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I'm not saying I'm smarter than you because I use proper punctuation; I'm implying it with semicolons.
Just once I'd like to see a realistic tampon commercial, with the actress sobbing herself to sleep with a half-chewed Snickers in her mouth.
Day 2 without Tumblr: Have started asking people on the street if I'm pretty and if they like this song I found.
"I could never date a girl who smokes." "That's convenient, I could never date a guy who wears a Coldplay shirt." *lights up*
My kids are texting each other on their DS(es) while sitting on the same couch. Dear The Future: I'm sorry.
I'M GOING TO DIE ALONE AND CATS ARE GOING TO EAT MY FA... Oh for fuck's sake, give me that.
Sorry, my uterus was trying to tweet again.
Divorced life reminds me of my college days sometimes, only without the sex and partying. What I'm saying is I'm eating ramen.
This isn't a fucking campground, humans, it's a Target aisle. I will hit you with this cart, so help me Baby Jesus.
Playing that fun game where I boil all the different kinds of pasta left in boxes together and see what happens. I call it poorsta.
How much is Twitter paying NPR to awkwardly mention them in EVERY DAMN STORY? Nina Totenberg saying tweet is like my mom saying butt sex.
"I know a good drinking game, it's called drink the fucking beer. That's the game."
Footsteps on the roof of my bedroom and I live on the top floor. Obviously zombies or a serial killer. If it was ninjas I'd be dead already.
"Why are people's breasts so big in this movie?" complains my son, who is apparently going to be an ass man when he grows up.
I just stabbed myself in the chin with my fingernail while fluffing my pillow. There is blood. I'm amazed I've managed to live this long.
My boss is threatening to Google me if I'm late tomorrow. The future is here and it is terrifying.
Singer. Ukulele plinker. Joke maker. Cheese lover. Laundry avoider. Pastry Chef at The Herb Box.
