Bob: What happened to you?
Me: Run over by a truck
Bob: [runs over by a truck] ok, now tell me what happened to you

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I regret to announce that my five year old is responsible for the nation’s ketchup shortage.


I installed a pet door over the weekend, and the dog barked at it, and the cat pissed on it, but the raccoons have got the idea.


I was just complaining to myself about how lazy my daughter is until I realized she gets that from me so now it’s adorable and endearing, of course.


“Deb, every year I tell you I don’t want to do a holiday card, you tell me it will be fine, and then Junior does something obnoxious in the photo that you claim is ‘cute.’ And look, we’re right on schedule.”


my diet starts tomorrow as it has every monday, and will continue to do so, indefinitely


I’m not saying I’m a hero, but I did just give a bottle of wine mouth to mouth.

It didn’t make it.


“pew, pew, pew!”

-me, pointing out seating options in a church


Why couldn’t the Mayans just make a calendar full of naked women like everybody else?


“What’s the worst that could happen?” I ask my son, as we enter the bear enclosure in matching Winnie the Pooh costumes