girl in novel: hi my older brother who is 17 years old and popular, do you want breakfast ?

her brother: yes, remember when mom died when you were 4 and our dad is an alcoholic ?

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I’m in pretty decent shape for a dude who was in a serious car accident and spent the last six weeks recovering in a hospital bed. That didn’t happen to me–it’s just a good yardstick for the kind of shape I’m in.


I just want to be fit enough to reach into my glove compartment, without crying.


*watches an extremely cute guy flirt with an equally cute girl at the gym from the floor above like an old witch on a mountain*


[my car launching off cliff]
oh no google maps you rascal


4 AM

BLADDER: Get up. You need to go
STOMACH: And you’re hungry
BRAIN: Imagine if Hammer Time was a real time zone. We’d have to move there


I have been reporting moms on Facebook who brag about how perfect their lives are as fake news.


ME: whose dog are you


ME: whose cat are you

CAT: Possession is a solipsistic paradigm, Vivian. However, if I were to define myself as belonging to anyone, it would be myself. In this essay, I will DON’T TOUCH MY STOMACH


90 years from now, they’ll sing songs about the courage and bravery you displayed during the great “Instagram Selling Your Photos” skirmish.


[Walking thru a dark alley late at night]

Thug: This is an arm robbery!

Me: Don’t u mean “armed” robbery?

Thug: *takes out chainsaw* Nope