My husband broadcasts the Imperial March over Google home when my mother pulls into the driveway.
It’s scarier than any movie I’ve ever seen.
Them: “Live in the moment!”
Me: “HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MOMENT?”
Thank God there is the super fit woman who constantly power walks past my window to remind me that I don’t want to do that.
“One box of murder hornets, please. And yes, it’s a gift.”
“Don’t make things all about you for once…”
My mother says hi.
Don’t forget to wear your lip gloss so you can constantly pick hair out of it and any flying debris you may collect throughout the day.
*mutes Coronavirus*
*Twitter disappears*
My neighbors hate me because I still haven’t taken my Groundhog Day decorations down.
One night my insomnia will pay off and I’ll witness a crime being committed outside my window.
Until then, I’ll keep eating.
My daughter returned from a birthday party without bringing me cake. She said they didn’t even have cake. They had cupcakes. And they were the mini ones. And they got one each.
This is not a birthday party, it’s a horror movie.
Find yourself a person who…NO. Scratch that.
Find yourself some cake.
If your husband didn’t just take down an old shower curtain, wear it as a cape, then run around yelling “I am Captain Mildew!” then you are not me.
I’m at a kids fun park and let me just emphasize that the word “fun” is used loosely here.
Whoever said “time heals all wounds” deserves a swift kick in the teeth.
In Canada at our Black Friday sales we fight to see who gets to hold the door open for others.