God: you’re a cat.
God: you really love the humans.
Cat: yeah I do!
God: but you don’t express your feelings very well.
Cat: oh no! what should I do?
God: try giving them gifts.
Human: is-is that a dead bird?
Cat: [happy whisper] I love you so much!
My 21yr old son: “Mom sometimes I think you only had me for the free, lifetime tech support”
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Being fat is when you watch Jurassic Park and wonder if dinosaur tastes good.
An old white man in a beard bestowing gifts from the sky? Please.
“I’d hit that.” Clearly what my head thinks about cupboard doors and other hard surfaces when I least expect it.
DOC: We think you may have a phobia of marriage. Do you know what the symptoms are?
ME: Can’t say I do
DOC: That’s one of the symptoms, yes.
If you can’t handle me at my worst that makes sense and I’m sorry for setting your house on fire.
In choosing clinical logic and detached isolation over laughter and passion, you went full-Vulcan.
Everyone knows you never go full-Vulcan.
Raisins are just grapes pretending not to be past their “sell by” date
Any woman with three or more exes in her city could have told Obama how to avoid Putin in Normandy.
ME: Your doll is creeping me out! Is it haunted?
NEW MOM: That’s my baby, you idiot.