I hate that theres no way to know if you’re on track or not for your annual consumption of 8 spiders

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Him: You okay?

Me eating a tube of cookie dough like a banana: Yeah, why?


Only death will keep me from you. Or cake. Or Netflix. Or kittens….hold on, I have a list.


Salad in a bag. What’s next, spaghetti in your purse? Ham in your backpack? Lobster in your luggage?


Crabs always look like they’re walking themselves out of an awkward situation.


Autocorrect changed “I’ll make better tweets” to “I’ll bake better tweets” so now I suspect my tweets are also cake.


I think if we leave a bunch of cell phones in the forest, eventually Big Foot will be tempted to take a selfie.


My son just told me he knows all the lyrics to Despacito and then just sang “burrito” for every single word.


I would really love to see how Michaelangelo managed to paint that ceiling with his nunchucks.


True embarrassment lies within your first email address