Sad vuvuzela.

E.T. didn't inspire Neil Diamond's "Heartlight." It was a tequila and burrito binge with Burt Bacharach. Original title: "Fartlight." #lmsa

They should call it "Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me 'Cause I Already Heard That Joke on Twitter Three Days Ago."

I am so gay for civil rights.

We're here in Arkansas, cradle of Walmartization, observing the People thereof in their original habi...Shhh...here's one now. Magnificent.

Don't you hate it when you're almost out of wine and you have to tongue the box?

Does this minivan make my uterus look big?

Welcome to community college. The only difference you'll notice from high school is the ash trays. That and the stench of broken dreams.

If I could harness the power of these uterine cramps, the US could achieve energy independence. I should contain the spillage first, though.

Doughnuts? No need for all that. I'll just slather this lard directly on my thighs, thanks.

Are you using that spatula?

The adverb makes it funny. Apparently.

Indian cowboy, sexy clown, patriotic fear. Rodeos are complex.

Ten out of ten mosquitoes agree: I am a tasty white girl.

Neighbor child's shouting, "Coochie's loose! Bad Coochie! Get inside, Coochie!" Giant vag attack or dog name fail? Either way, time to move.

WHO ATE ALL THE SLEEP?

Hi, neighbor! You're pretty generous with that cat food. So, what do you call a bunch of feral cats? A herd? A nest? A public health hazard?

I almost just got into a fight with a girl over a bar stool. Then she threw up. So...



She wins.

Tips for Drunk Girls #007: It may be "Sexy Cinderella" to you, but everyone knows that costume's really called "Stumblin' Attention Whore."

At Trader Joe's, a sad midlife epiphany: My superpower's catty passive aggression. My costume's good bone structure and no makeup. Me.

Ow.

Does this gang-related graffiti on my minivan make my ass look bad? Badass, I mean. Bad. Ass.



What if I replace the Steely Dan with NWA?