I taught my son how to roll down a hill and then I taught some passerby’s how I clean puke off my son.
Finding Nemo. Grilling Nemo. Eating Nemo.
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My 3 moods:
1. I’m too tired for this shit
2. I’m too old for this shit
3. I’m too sober for this shit
BOSS: Can we meet in 20 minutes?
ME: Can it wait until tomorrow?
BOSS: Sure. Busy day?
ME: (pauses video of a dog playing in crunchy leaves) Yes.
I got a free wallet and watch today. It’s like this gun is magic.
Great. Only a single slice of bread left in the bag. That means until I find another slice, everything that happens today is in the sandwich
“We need to kill the terrorist NOW”
“The human body is 70% water”
Jesus, you know what to do
*terrorist dies of alcohol poisoning*
5: are there people coming tomorrow?
me: no why?
5: well you guys cleaned the house
Anyone who says ‘they wish they could be a fly on the wall’ has clearly never been attacked by a woman with a rolled up newspaper.
I knew my kid inherited my artistic abilities back when she drew that cute little pig. She called it a dog, but whatever.
boss: you’re fired. clean out your desk.
me, a janitor: look, am I fired or not?