i mean, i wouldn’t kick you out of bed for eating lasagna.
i put my exercise bike together, no spare parts, i am absolutely drunk on testosterone, i’ll never need another map.
if you knew my origin story, you’d stop asking what’s wrong with me, and start asking if i want crayons with my placemat.
my family was too poor for a gene pool, so we soaked our genes in rye whiskey.
i like my men the same way i like my coffee; steadily getting cooler, as i inevitably forget they’re sitting next to me.
i’m a 10 (tion deficit)
was Jim off killing horses or…
i transcended “cat lady” 10 cats ago, i’m now “cat mother goddess” in some select circles. so worship meow!
don’t ask me “what dat mouth do?” if you’re not prepared to hear it burp the alphabet.
live, laugh, laundry.
this isn’t threatening at all
been a while since anyone declared a thumb war, peace has made us all soft.
pronouncing “vegan” like “began.”
listen, Geppetto made a marionette to replace his dead son, so technically Pinocchio is “mourning wood.”
twice now the building diva has stormed off angrily after i spoke up in defense of myself, she gets one more, then i unhinge my jaw and finish her.