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Oh gosh I'm sorry. I'm just so bad with names. And faces. Well, and people. And animals. And plants. Real bad with plants.
I just met a woman who told me she had "trouble keeping weight on" in times of stress. I ate her.
Living on the edge; bought a two-piece swimsuit. One piece is the actual suit and the other piece is a cloak of invisibility.
My forties have allowed me the freedom to yawn at totally inappropriate times without apology.
I occasionally eat chocolate every single day.
SIRI, make me 20 pounds thinner. "Mom? Uh, That's the TV remote control".
If only human babies were as cute as Polar Bear cubs. What. Someone had to say it.
What if I never liked the messenger anyway? Then can I shoot her?
My children will never know true horror. Like having to answer the phone with no caller ID.
I've had broken bones that hurt less than Nick Cage's southern accent in Con Air.
I'm at an age now where if I were granted three plastic surgery wishes it wouldn't be enough.
I'm more proud of the parallel parking job I did today than my college degree and it's quite possible I worked harder to get it.
Based on your avis I can see many of you can't afford shirts and I'm holding a bake sale to buy several of you pants.
Is it okay to write, "just trust me on this", on your résumé?
I just gained a few followers but it hasn't gone to my head or anything I SAID NO BROWN M&MS, DAMMIT!
There will be a grandmother named Britney in the next ten years. Sleep tight America!
The nice thing about twitter is if you have a stalker you can just block them before you end up in their refrigerator.
Oh, what happened to you poor 49 year old lady with bedazzled pink cell, pink purse, skinny jeans and high heels? Let me hug you.
Placing a clown gnome in your front yard is a great way to announce to the world you're a blossoming serial killer.
Remember young girls; Zumba always leads to prostitution.