My husband reminding me that Heidi Klum also has 4 kids is going to be the official cause of death on his death certificate.

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<during sex>

Me: Can we pretend I didn’t just call you Uncle Joe?

Her: Not sure, it’s pretty disturbing.

Uncle Joe: It didn’t bother me.


The current world population is 7.67 billion people. In 1971, when “Imagine” was written, it was 3.78 billion.
So if you’re listening today you should really only be expected to imagine 49.28% of the people.


I hope that when everyone returns to my office they appreciate the pole I installed in the conference room. I can’t wait to show them the routine I’ve worked so hard on


*angrily whispering over crib*
“Sheila you know I was raised by wolves. I have to pay it forward.”
“But why do they need their own cribs?”


me: [teary eyed] if anything ever happened to you i would kill myself

her: ur kinda weird for a surgeon


I say “Andrea” you say “Aun-dray-uh” and that’s why nobody likes you, Andrea.


Alcohol is like Lysol for feelings, it won’t kill all of them.


what’s the point of a quarantine if I’m not going to be quarantined with my incredibly beautiful mortal nemesis for days on end until our sexual tension builds and we fall in love but before we have the chance to kiss the quarantine ends and we must go our separate ways


Wrong hole.
Wrong hole.
Wrong hole.
Wrong hole.
-trying to put on my distressed denim jeans


The last time I danced in public people gave me money to find a cure.