
(Fancy restaurant)
Me: One food please.
The average person has sex 103 times a year and it’s almost March so that means only 103 more to go.
(Fancy restaurant)
Me: One food please.
This is an example of the shit I text my kid. I know, I know. Mom of the Year material right here.
You don’t need to put “narcissist” in your bio.
This is twitter, that shit goes without saying.
Not sure who graded these eggs as Extra-Large, but I’m guessing it was a guy.
Inside Out 2:
The girl enters puberty.
Her emotions get out of control.
She goes Goth.
Sadness murders the other emotions in their sleep
Nobody warned me that my child could possibly develop an attitude similar to mine.
I just wrote a check for 6 dollars, so I don’t really wanna hear about your ‘summer’ house.
There’s a bag of Hersey’s chocolate in the kitchen.
I’ve been smothering myself with kisses.
Home Alone 2? Shame on you. Home Alone 3? Shame on me.
Me on the toilet: HEY I NEED SOME TOILET PAPER
6: *running around dressed like a mummy* we’re all out