Look picnics, if I wanted to spend three hours protecting my food with a spork, I’d just go to prison.
I told my husband that instead of leaving his dirty dishes on the counter, he should leave them in 1952 so a nice housewife cleans them up.
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He shouldn’t have died so young, but he also shouldn’t have cut the grass at 7:30 am on a Sunday. (I’m writing my neighbors obituary)
Like a lioness protecting her cub, but it’s me lunging at the coworker about to nibble on my favourite pen.
1995: the information superhighway will mean anyone can do anything from anywhere
2015: must be willing to relocate to San Francisco
date: what do you do for a living?
me: i make trojan horses
date: that’s not what i’d expect
me: yah that’s the idea
I turned off the TV today and made my kids play board games like it was 1955 and now I know why all of our grandparents were alcoholics
Just finished reading a book on Stockholm Syndrome.
I really didn’t like the first couple of chapters, but by the end I loved it.
I like that Linkin Park song where the guy suddenly screams.
[surgeon in the recovery room] in addition to the hernia we also found $20 in change
[me who’s always been a good tipper] you’re welcome