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Sometimes, if I tweet something I think is brilliant but nobody stars it, I want to tweet it again -- but louder.
I am a feminist. Which is why I will never use the fact that I have VERY LARGE & BOUNCY BREASTS to get people to star my tweets.
Note to self: next time you try a smash and grab, be sure to get all the glass shards off the pastry before eating it.
I might hate myself, but if it's any consolation, I'm not so fond of you either.
Sometimes I feel like a hollow speck, alone, drifting in a vast and meaningless universe. Then I buy something on Amazon and all is well.
I can tell a drunken email right away: the subject line is in caps, it's full of self-pity, and it's in my sent mail.
Sadly, I suspect I may not be beautiful enough to justify being this shallow.
There is a fine line between "whimsical" and "crazy". But I'm pretty sure that dancing around naked and throwing glitter crosses it.
My 6 year old (after pledging to never do drugs): Um, what are drugs again? Is that when you go down the stairs on your belly?
Work sucks. It's all "copy this" and "scan that" and "you left your bra in the breakroom again".
It was raining hard when I went outside this morning. "Raining for realsies," as we used to say in black ops jungle training.
Happiness is an illusion, I tell him. He tells me sadness is too.
"Choose your illusion," he says.
I'm so much better at cursing the darkness than lighting a candle. I should probably stick with my skill set.
I wanted to make havoc, but I don't have the ingredients. So...does anybody have a recipe for disaster?
I do have a superpower. I can make my kids trash an entire room just by cleaning it beforehand.
If Apple ever comes out with a special pedometer for depressed people who walk slowly, they should call it the iPlod.
Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to discuss this in men's group and hug it out. #calmmovielines
