Finding a guy to marry who is rich enough to pay off my debt, but not so rich he wants a prenup is, like, so much harder than I anticipated.
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Man claims world will end Saturday. My producer tried to book him for an interview tomorrow. He said he wasn’t available until next week.
My daughter in college texted me and asked where to go to get air in her tires. I told her the gas station and I swear on all that is holy her response was this, “I only have $88 in my bank account. Will it cost more than that?”
Why is my kitchen floor so gross I just mopped like 3 months ago.
Oh no, it’s raining! What do I do? What’s a green light? What’s a stop sign? What’s a blinker? Where’s the brake pedal?
H: “You’re walking funny”
me: I hurt myself in the hot tub
H: “Did you fall in?”
me: … sure.
Me: Sometimes you need to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, enfarcorate, and move on. You know what I’m saying?
*sitting in a blind, in the wilderness, waiting for a house to come*
*chimney slowly appears on the horizon*
Is it that you think I can’t eat this rotisserie chicken with my bare hands while driving 75 mph, or that I won’t?
Either way, you’re wrong.
[after the thousandth time making a mess while cooking eggs]
ME: there’s gotta be a better way!
WIFE: *hands me a pan* stop using the toaster dumbass