March 23: Trump pretends to drive big-rig. House bill falls apart.
July 17: Trump pretends to drive firetruck. Senate bill falls apart.
If my dog’s front feet move while he’s asleep then I know he’s dreaming about playing the piano. If it’s his back feet, tap dancing.
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Drank enough whiskey to talk the husband into a Titanic reenactment. He’s laying in the snow and I won’t share the picnic table with him.
The only time my ex will ever scream “DEEPER, DEEPER” is when they are lowering my casket into the ground.
My ear is bleeding because I tried to shave it. Now I have to create some elaborate lie to tell ppl how I cut my ear.
Every day I ask myself deep existential questions like, “If I were me, where would I park the car?”
Geez, I’m so sorry…I’m not normally ticklish.
(me to the nail lady I just kicked in the face during my pedicure)
My husband just walked in, told the dog how cute he is, and how much he loves him. Held his face in his hands, stared into his eyes, and gave him forehead kisses. Then left the room.
I’m sitting right next to the dog.
[SyFy pitch meeting]
Me: A hurricane of cats! PURRICANE!
Me: A tidal wave of cows! MOONAMI!
Producer: I’m gonna say no
Me: An earthquake of ducks! EARTHQUACK!
Producer: Please leave
Me: *being dragged out by security* FLYPHOOOooon
[standing in bushes with binoculars watching neighbor who is also in bushes watching me though binoculars]
A search party sounds like a fun way to look for someone.