After sitting in the labor and delivery waiting room chairs for 12 hours, I need an epidural as much as those women in labor do.
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[having sex]
Her: HARDER!
ME: Divide 110 into two parts so that one will be 150% of the other. What are the 2 numbers?
Her: 44&66 HARDER!
ME: how can i prepare for my date
FRIEND: get her some flowers. roses, orchids
ME: definitely roses, we’re not ready for kids yet
I’m really bad at measuring the correct amount of pasta, so if you and 79 of your friends want spaghetti tonight, come on over.
If you lead a horse to pretzels and then to water, he will definitely drink.
There’s no such thing as bad press.
Johnson & Johnson: Hold my Beer!
I’m still in disbelief that 9/11 coincidentally happened on September 11 (9/11)
i wear a mask when i sleep, because who knows who’s going to come into an Arby’s bathroom this close to the highway
*takes bite of Pringle* yes *nods at date then waiter* we’ll have the tube
You know what I really like about you, girl? You’re really down to earth. *waits for response, nothing. Goes to next tombstone* You know wha
Adobe update is ready to install *gazes longingly into the distance*, but I don’t think I am.
Netflix and awkward silence?
Me: Ahh finally, some sleep
My brain: Do saltwater fish get thirsty?
Me: Goddamnit
When I say something embarrassing I immediately follow it up with something even more embarrassing so everybody will forget the first one
I can’t go to jail…
I have serious food allergies!
I don’t know what happened but the entire pan of brownies is gone and I only had 4,500 slivers.
Fool me once shame on you.
Fool me twice I’m buying a potato gun.
STEPHEN KING WRITING ABOUT LIVING IN NEW ENGLAND: The old man who ran the town dump communed with darkness. He kept a Hand of Glory in a 1982 Boston Bruins mug. Crows and bats were his to command.
ME AFTER MOVING TO NEW ENGLAND: Jesus, I used to think Stephen King made shit up.
Sent this guy 27 texts in the last hour and haven’t heard back so I guess I should probably drive over to his house and make sure he’s okay.
My gal pal: “Are you on a diet? You look so nice & thin… What’s you’re secret?!”
Me: “Poverty.”
When there were a lot footprints in the sand, that was a bunch of jesus’s chasing you
Sheep
It was probably the machine that kept the world from turning to shit.
You know you’re getting old when you sound like a women’s tennis match just trying to get out of bed.
[in hell journal day 211]
I’ve asked if it was hot in here 932 times in 211 days. the dark lord is angry but he has nowhere else to send me
*feels comfortable*
comfortable: *slaps hand away*
Throws caution into the wind.
Comes back and hits me in the face.
DON’T INTERRUPT ME!!!
(me, in a drunken argument with your dog)
Doctor: That does it for the stitches. How did you bust your lip open?
Husband: I was sparring with a buddy yesterday.
Me: He was pulling up the duvet when his hand slipped and he punched himself in the face.
Well excuse me all to hell. I thought you’d be flattered with a mosaic of pictures of you at the gym. No, you don’t need to call the police.
ME: what came first the chicken or the egg
FRIEND [putting an ice pack on my head]: I’m not sure, people were throwing so many things at you