ME: I was born a tree…
ALSO ME: …but I’ll dialog.
Is Lent nearly over? I don’t know how much longer I can hold my breath.
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This is a little film called, “Trying to Describe Myself to My Lyft Driver So He Can Find Me”
A single text to my mom is like pulling that loose thread on a sweater.
“Where are you from?”
-Trumpsylvania, how about you?
Some fancy kids just egged my house with quail eggs. I went out to yell, and one of them garnished me with chives.
*snaps wife’s nighttime eye mask*
You give great word of mouth
that picture of all the construction workers sitting on a steel beam eating lunch except its me & the boys sitting on the floor at game stop
[45 minutes after seeing someone fall down the stairs]
For once I would like to find a babysitter that doesn’t get all upset when she gets to my house and realizes I don’t have kids