Her: Are you naked?
Me (taking a shit): Yes
My wife must be the slowest reader ever.
I bought her a Kindle last Christmas and she still hasn’t finished it.
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[being murdered by cows]
more like (finger quotes) “moodered” amirite
[the other farm animals immediately join in, even some corn is mad]
Everytime I hold a baby, I have to talk my ovaries down like a hostage negotiator:
“18 to life man, I know it smells good. Stay focused.”
Landlocked countries with beach volleyball teams: who do you think you’re fooling?
When a big account that doesn’t follow me stars me suddenly, I crouch down and stay still, hoping it will tiptoe up and eat from my hand.
mario: what’s in this risotto?
me: mushroom, you’re not allergic?
mario: *grows to like 20 feet*
17: I’m locked out
Me: The spare key is in the fake rock behind the pillar
17: What’s the fake rock look like?
Can you imagine the reaction 20 years ago if you showed people a photo album filled with pictures you took of yourself in the bathroom?
ME: whose dog are you
DOG: I’M YOUR DOG I’M YOUR DOG YES YES YES TWIRL TWIRL
ME: whose cat are you
CAT: Possession is a solipsistic paradigm, Vivian. However, if I were to define myself as belonging to anyone, it would be myself. In this essay, I will DON’T TOUCH MY STOMACH