“Now, remember,” I say, waving my tweezers. “You eyebrows aren’t twins; they’re nearly identical cousins trying to outdo each other in order to become executor of their grandfather’s will.”
A woman asked me if I’d be having any more kids. When I said no she said “you can’t have just one!” and I told her she was thinking of potato chips.
When I told my parents over the phone that my husband has the flu, my dad said “Have you tried euthanasia?” and in the background my mom yelled “For the last time, it’s echinacea!”
A kid at the park said a giant hemorrhoid is heading toward Earth. I know he misspoke but in the closing days of 2016 one can’t be too sure.
*tucks an errant lock of my gynecologist’s hair behind her ear with my toes*
4yo son said the word prototype. When I asked him what it meant, he said “People are a prototype” and I was too scared to ask what he meant.
I’m wearing black with navy blue today. Fight me. Any bruising will only serve to tie it all together.
I said I was mad at myself.
My 4yo son looked at me. “There are fancier words for mad,” he said, fixing my hair. “You should say irritated.”
An alien makes contact. I take it home, give it a sandwich. Then ice cream. And then, to show we’re an advanced race, an ice cream sandwich.
Listen, you should really give your mother a call. She’s concerned that “the haters” in her Zumba class are organizing and gaining power.