Texting 15 year old son after his high school dance:

Me: Hi baby! How was the dinner beforehand? Did you have fun? How was the dance? Did you dance with your date? Did you remember to tell her that her dress was pretty? Was it fun?

15: good

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*cop frisking me*
Cop: “theres nothin in your pockets that will poke me, right?”
Uh, no
Cop: “OW!”
*baby porcupine jumps out*


I’m not sure which is a gentler way to wake me up; my 2yo or walking barefoot through a pile of glass shards.


[after robots take over]
*drones crash into my kitchen*
ME: [mouthful of ham] whobithrayed me?
*fridge starts laughing*


Pal: “on your date, ask her about herself. Oh! And girls love a guy into animals”

Me: “how much do you weigh? about as much as baby cow?”


There are many effective ways of inviting me to your event but doing it on Facebook is definitely not one of them.


I’ve worked at my job for 7 years & my boss still hasn’t noticed that I only give Magic 8-Ball responses to all of his questions.


If they ban straws, that means I can no longer flirtatiously blow the straw wrapper at my date and that is literally my only move.


There is a disturbing amount of product placement in my dreams.


me: dinosaurs can’t jump

her: how do u know

me: they’re dead Linda