[dinner party, setting out the main]

Friend: Wow! Is this edible gold? You’re really stepping up your game!

Me, thinking about my kid’s art taped to the kitchen cupboard shedding glitter like a damn Head & Shoulders commercial: Isn’t it fancy?!

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The date was going really well until he told me to stop calling it Pasghetti.


I can tell my 5yo will make a great politician someday by the way he uses other kids as human shields in dodgeball.


I don’t mean to brag, but I don’t need to buy a new Tamagotchi. The one I got in 1997 is not only still alive, but it’s healthier than I am.


Rent should be due every 90 days, every 30 is dramatic. Let’s riot.


Wife [walking into house]: Ummm..

Me: [recreating “You Better Shape Up Scene” from Grease with my dog dressed as Sandy]: You’re home early.


“Omg there’s a picture of him blowing smoke out of his mouth. I must bang him this instant”- no one, ever.


[Planning Rustic Vacation]

Me: Should we rent a cabin or a cottage?

Her: What’s the difference?

M: Well, cottages are usually home to witches who eat children; cabins usually contain partying teens who get murdered by a psychopath.

H: I meant in price.


Thank God the conventions are over because now we can get back to the real issues: FOOTBALL.


Uterus: cry

Me: What? Wait, why I’m not even do-

Uterus: CRY.