*goes to grocery store
*puts “gently used” sticker on all their cucumbers
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Stretching and yawning at the same time might not look so sexy but it looks like you’re a Pokemon evolving so that’s cool.
Me: Quitters never prosper.
12-year-old: What about people who quit drugs?
I’m out of wisdom for today.
Salons always have hair on the floor. Garages always have oil on the floor.
Banks, what is your problem?
Of course I’m not going to use my cat’s real name. Lord knows what all these internet perverts would do with that information.
Wife is painting the upstairs bedrooms. It’s not in my nature to sit still while she slaves away so I went up and complained about the color
God: *creates sunset*
Angel: That’s beautiful. What purpose does it solve?
God: *creating Instagram* You’ll see.
Kissing a girl usually tastes like 3 bottles of wine, not cherry chapstick.
I always carry a yoga mat with me so I can take a nap right after eating at the Golden Corral.
*wakes up due to construction noise*
*tosses and turns all pissed off*
*finally decides to get up*
*construction noise stops*
Chicago releases 1,000 feral cats to end reputation as rat capital of America
the closest I get to a manicure is when I jam olives on my fingers and pretend I’m a tree frog
I could never do time in prison – The handshakes are way too complicated.
[being buttered]
Me: are you sure about this
Murderer: [stops buttering] you know what I brought the wrong knife
Nothing says “thought of you, and masturbated” like ‘liking’ a girl’s Facebook photo from 2009.
I thought white noise was the sound of people complaining at Starbucks.
“that dude just checked out your mom” –two trees outside a library
“Can you cook dinner tonight?”
Can’t. New meds say I can’t operate any heavy machinery and that stove doesn’t look light
I wish my husband was as concerned with “preheating” me as he is with the oven…
Mario: YAHOO!! *throws banana peel at another cart, eats a mushroom*
Me: This. This is why I don’t take you grocery shopping.
Don’t confront someone who puts cottage cheese in lasagna, leave crazy alone.
Bond. Trauma bond.
If I were a wrestler, my fighting name would be Pain Austen.
For the last 60 days, a guy from Tinder has texted me some variation of “Hi. How are you?”
I reply, “Good. You?”
And the conversation trails off there or after a few more texts.
He never makes plans to go out.
I guess he’s just making an Excel spreadsheet about how I am.
Daughter: Daddy, can I have breakfast?
Me: *puts up hand* Talk to the hand.
Daughter: *into my hand like she’s ordering at a drive thru* I’d like some pancakes.
I tried to pause the baby monitor when my baby woke up early from a nap instead of the Netflix show I was watching. It didn’t work.
My kids asked me what people were protesting about on tv so I had to sit them down and very carefully explain that people are still angry about the horrible Mother’s Day gift they bought me.
*bees surround guy*
AHHH GET THEM AWAY
“Don’t make any sudden movements” *suddenly the Macarena comes on*
Oh no…
If elected I will pour out three fingers of scotch and fill the bottle back up with water so my dad doesn’t notice.
I’m stoned. Either the smoke alarm is beeping or the house is backing up.