Thank God for church or I'd never find a parking space at Wal-mart.

I talk to an imaginary live studio audience when I'm cooking dinner.

Dear Lexus Sales Guy: If you think it's worth risking this $50k sale, you go ahead & keep answering my husband whenever I ask a question.

I always get my Cookie Monster on when confronted with a fresh sleeve of Thin Mints.

Maybe I shouldn't have washed that Vicodin down with a cup of coffee and a Peeps chaser. I'm hyperactively comatose now.

I think I've reached my recommended daily allowance of couch.

Watching porn at 1.5x speed makes me appreciate my husband's bedroom stylings just a little more.

I know it's going to be a great day when I get up and take such a massive and satisfying piss that I drop a dress size afterward.

Dammit! I just flushed that crap I was gonna give.

Pulling on Spanx should count as my cardio for the day.

Jim Beam ice cream is a thing?! I think I just orgasmed a little.

When I lean forward, it's not an invitation to oggle at my boobs...

It's a demand.

Husband: *tapping furiously at his phone* I'm trying to flash my phone. Me: You're doing it wrong. *lifts shirt* There!

We feed this dog dog food. Dog. Food. So, how is it her breath smells like month-old anchovies stuffed in a meth whore's twat?

"Winning taco?" Really, Taco Bell? Really? I'm sorry, but no. The only "winning taco" is a pink one.

I'm surprised how many Southerners are on Twitter... given that most of their syllables are more than 140 characters.

Dude. Your failure to recognize my redheadedness as nature's warning signal does not constitute an onus on my part to put up w/your crap.

I am quite certain the zombies, ninja assassins, axe murderers, and under-the-bed monsters only come out when my husband is out of town.

1lb of candy in my mouth = 2lbs of fat on my ass? Who did that math? Gonna plant my size 9 boot up his rear & do size 18 worth of damage.

Umm, duh? Has nobody else done the math on this new coupon show? Extreme + Couponing = Food Hoarders.