I’d donate my body to science after I die, but they’d find 42 packs of chewed up and swallowed Hubba Bubba and my mom would be disappointed.
My armpits smell like garlic bread.
Him: what’s your favorite season?
Me: Reese’s Egg Season
Expectations of quarantine: I’ll clean out my closets, cupboards, and book shelves. I’ll cook, bake, read, exercise, and catch up on paperwork.
Reality of quarantine: I’m a 600lb blob of mashed potatoes on the couch with a hot pink post it note that says, “She tried.”
I just panic bought 7 gallons of wolf urine and I’m not even sorry.
Me: I’d like “Intercourse” for $1,000, Alex.
Alex Trebek: I bet you would.
If I refer to myself as, “sauced up,” it probably just means I have honey, BBQ and ranch to dip my nuggets in.
I’ve never owned a pair of spanx that didn’t eventually own me.
A lazy eye is just like a regular eye except it won’t take out the garbage, leaves up its Christmas lights all year and will text someone in the same room.
Me: What am I going to do with these sick time management skills?
Twitter: hold my beer