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My closet is really just a pathetic shrine to the skinny girl I used to be.
Thanks to facebook, I no longer need a reunion to see who married poor, got fat & had ugly kids.
Daughter: When I grow up am I gonna have boobies, too? Me: Like me? Daughter: No, big boobies.
Blow jobs are like ductape for relationships.
Remember dialing up and being excited to hear "You've got mail"?
Now when I get an email alerts all I think is "What the fuck now?"
My kid wants dinner. I want her to work on her problem-solving skills.
It's safe to say that I never would have graduated if I'd had twitter in high school.
Sometimes when your tweet isn't funny but it gets a bunch of stars anyway I remember that I'm prettier than you and I feel a little better.
I don't use Tumblr because I generally don't have thoughts that exceed 140 characters.
Today needs to be a little less thinky and a lot more drinky.
I hate when so many people retweet a stupid tweet that I have no idea who to unfollow for retweeting it.
My phone's battery was only at 14% when I blew a tire today during rush hour, and now I totally get what all those pioneers went through.
I just walked into my closet and inventoried all of the blow jobs I've given since I got married.
Just talked my kid out of her jammies by telling her to take them off while she was dancing.
Probably not the best life skill to teach her.
Being married means that sex is my preferred method of payment.
How did people with weird fetishes find each other before the internet?
Charlie Sheen got kinda boring when he didn't die right away, huh?
I'm not going to plan my own funeral because I don't want typos on my tombstone.
I'm not nearly as flexible as I should be, considering how often I manage to put my foot in my mouth.
Am I the only one that thinks Snooki looks like Miss Piggy's skanky daughter?
Trophy wife. Soccer mom. 420 enthusiast. Caffeine junkie. Candle smeller. Curb tripper. Laugh lover. Thought thinker. Soul seeker.