No thanks Olive Garden, the last place I wanna eat is somewhere that treats me like family.

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I don’t think nachos cure hiccups, but I’m willing to test this theory for the good of humanity. I will report my findings post haste


My husband is driving with his ex 7 hours home after moving their daughter to college. I suggested they stay at a hotel instead of driving through the night.

Husband, “I’m smart enough to know this is either a set up for real life or for Twitter and either way it’s a no for me.”


me: a man once told me these woods are haunted by a demonic entity

him: how

me: with his mouth


[raises hand during kickboxing lesson] when do we get to kick boxes?
[instructor] that’s not what we-
[me] I just hate boxes so damn much


hate when the barista asks “do you want whipped cream?” it feels there are only two answers: “yes please, i’m fat.” or “no thanks, i’m fat.”


what if peach and bowser were married the whole time and we were really just controlling a paranoid schizophrenic plumber trying to kidnap his old highschool girlfriend


I hate when people stare at me during sex. Like, seriously I don’t know you.


Sorry I dressed up like Captain Caveman when you asked me if I wanted to go clubbing.


Do you sell bloodpants?







“Right this way…”