[son hands me a picture he painted]
Me: what’s this
Son: it’s our house
Me: have you ever actually looked at our house
Hubs: Hey, was that tweet about me?
M: No, they’re never about people I know.
*writes another tweet about him*
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I’ve started slipping an occasional “meow” into everyday conversations with people to see if they’re really listening meow to me.
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
*turns off lights*
SON: Dad, can you call me an uber?
ME: You’re an uber!
SON: No, with your phone
ME: Oh, sorry [types]
SON: [gets text] “You’re an uber!”
I love how once you hit 30 every conversation can be turned into a competition for how little effort was put into pulling a muscle.
Every time you hire a clown for a kid’s birthday party, a therapist gets a new car.
Did you know that it takes 0 facial muscles to give you the finger
If you’re wondering what all these scratches on my chest are from, it’s because my cat hates to get in the hot tub with me.
Robber: KEEP YOUR HANDS UP OR I’LL SHOOT EVERY ONE OF YOU!
*Friends theme begins to play over PA*
*Everyone sweats nervously*
When your great-grandchildren call you racist for thinking all monkeys look the same.