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Did you know you can add "boom" to the end of any sentence and it's immediately awesome and you're amazing? Boom.
I am woman. Hear me talk. And talk. And talk. And talk.
I'm not wearing underwear in church. And I'm tweeting. I'm tweeting about not wearing underwear in church. Holy shit. It's like I SEE hell.
I hate when I have sex and then I accidentally have three kids and then I can't hear anything because EVERYONE IS FUCKING YELLING!
Every time I see a preview for Hoarders, I grab the closest thing to me and immediately throw it away.
My evolution of twitter has been "Oh you have to get a twitter and follow me!" to completely avoiding eye contact when someone mentions it.
I get tons of stars!!!
From the same, like, 13 people.
But still. Lots.
I'm still not sure where we stand, Pluto is or is not considered a real dog?
Facebook: where we complain.
Google+: where we go to be alone.
Twitter: where we go to be inappropriately amazing.
If you don’t mumble “fuck off” to your children under your breath for the first two hours every morning, then tell me your secrets, wizard.
RT'ing without starring is like saying "here look at this, I don't like it but fuck it, maybe you will."
INSTAGRAM IS DOWN. I REPEAT. INSTAGRAM IS DOWN. HOLD THE DUCKFACES. HOLD THE MEALS. HOLD EVERYTHING.
I just pushed a beautiful baby girl out of my vagina. Nice try, girls complaining about their periods.
Ok teeny, tiny, shitty little smart car, one day I'm not gonna stop when I rip into that parking spot thinking it's empty. Shifty bastard.
The RT button. Because sometimes other people just say it perfectly.
Hey, people without kids, I have a message for you when you wake up in like 5 hours, "fuck you."
That is all.
Ok, guys serious tweet here: RIP to the box of fruit roll ups I just opened and murdered with my face.
As an adult, I'm most afraid when my children's toys randomly make noise and nobody is in their rooms....
I would never attend a tweetup. I know from your tweets that like 98% of you would be hiding in the shadows touching yourselves.
My son is seriously such a sweet heart. He's going to make a great husband some day when he's 30 and I let him start dating.
If the devil called, I’d probably “yeah” him to death without paying attention and accidentally sell my soul for something stupid like soup.