i’m eating chili cheese fries past 7 pm like i’m not someone who pulled a back muscle on the toilet reaching for the toilet paper roll.
My 6 year old asked if we could have hotdogs for dinner and I suggested letting her mom choose the meal given the occasion. She said, “it’s Mother’s DAY not Mother’s NIGHT.”
Mother’s Day: Ideally, the one holiday I don’t personally have to handle.
The Reality: “Mom, where’s the tape? Wrapping paper? How do you spell ‘mother’?”
Why did they call it an Amazon wishlist and not an ‘Oughttobuyography’.
Life is just an endless cycle of buying a little drink so a store owner will let you use the bathroom, then walking a little, then needing to use the bathroom because you had a little drink
I don’t watch a lot of UFC fights, but when I do, I like to pause them when someone gets punched or trapped in a weird position, and say, “I bet you’re wondering how I got here”
Whenever my “advanced placement” tween gets too brain cocky I like to remind her that I’ve had to pull a jellybean out of her nostril not once, not twice, but 3 times
One of the great things about being a dad is how easy it is to launder my own desire for ice cream through my children
You only live once. Go talk to that gorgeous person… ask them for their phone number, steal their identity, buy yourself a big screen TV
Me: Busy day?
Singer: Working on my scales
Map maker: Same
Scale maker: Same
Mountain climber: Same
Guy who draws fish: Same
The cicada invasion is like insect spring break: a bunch of horny teenagers, everyone knows when they’re arriving, no one wants them in that quantity, and they’re going to leave a mess
What can I say? Your script is great. A cop in a supercharged patrol car fighting insane mutant gangs along limitless stretches of highway in a desolate, post-apocalyptic landscape. Fantastic. But the title, Annoyed Max. We need to punch that up
It’s Mother’s Day Eve so remember to leave out a bottle of wine for Mom when she comes down the chimney.
I’ve decided to stop wearing a very comfortable maternity romper I love. I figure it’s finally time, now that I’m 84 months postpartum.
A Tinder type app, but it matches you with sandwiches.