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Yay! The healthcare reform bill passed! Waitress, a round of celebratory abortions for all my friends!
Oh, you know, just working on my great American autoerotic asphyxia novel, The Great Gaspy. WHAT.
Taking the baby for shots. She's a baby, so I'm thinking Schnapps.
Watching this romantic comedy and the guy and the girl hated each other but I think they're starting to fall in love now! THIS IS CRAZY!
The ultimate feat in traditional curling is pushing a sleeping kitten without waking it, called Schweepen der Sleepen Katzeh. #curlingfacts
I like my men like I like my butter. Lay it on thick, get every crevice, and I'll worry about what you're doing to my heart later.
Twitter break (n): An interlude in which you focus on real-life grownup-type things. See also: A supposedly fun thing I'll never do again.
He's gone quite mad and has taken to calling himself Man of LaMancha, but don quixote me on that.
Yes that's my nightstand. No I don't think there are eggs hidden in here. Yes that's an egg. No I don't know why there are batteries in it.
Spending National Grammar Day the way I spend every National Grammar Day, hoping it will end in a proposition.
Guys, making love to a woman is like washing a car. Top to bottom, front to back. Cover every inch. And don't forget the rims.
Sorry if that offended you. Seriously, there's no such thing as celebratory abortions. Only celebratory food-stamp foie gras parties.
The Vitamin Shoppe. Because nothing says perfect health like the Middle Ages. Look it uppe.
Stand back, I'm about to rock the hell out of this entrance. It will go down in Chili's history.
The trophy-blonde hair I owe to the salon. But the cold, polystyrene heart? That's all me, baby. All me.
There is no ill that great sex can't cure. Except nymphomania. Then, I guess you're fucked.
At the gym for the first time in months. I don't remember the quiet longing for death's sweet embrace being this pronounced.
I'm so old, I remember when Birdhouse was called Notepad. Put that in your iPhone and tweet it. A week from now.
My husband informed me that COWBOYS DO WHAT THEY WANT. The fact that he was dressed like a cowboy for this proclamation didn't go unnoticed.