Everyone needs to eat healthier. Except the guy sitting next to me loudly eating an apple. That guy should be in prison.
No I don’t want to “just follow you” give me the damn address.
When my kids are grown, I’m coming over to their house and taking their forks and then scattering them around town.
My daughter has decided instead of drying off with bath towels, she prefers sheets, and I love her and promised to never stamp out her individuality, but no.
You look stressed, let me pour you a hot cup of pasta.
Everyone keeps asking me if I’m okay, and I think it’s because I keep showing up to places looking like I was hit by a truck.
I want to go to bed without cleaning the kitchen but I don’t want my mother to wake up in a panic 300 miles away.
I don’t use chocolate chip cookies to solve my problems, only treat the symptoms.
Not sure what to say when asked about the bruise on my face, because the truth is I walked into the side mirror of my truck.
Hi, I’m Amanda and I stew on things that could’ve been handled in an hour for thirteen years.
*Addressing the crowd that just watched me take 23 moves to park my truck*
ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!
-You were standing in the lobby of The Astor Hotel wearing a blue sweater. It was April 9th. Your first words were, “It’s you.” You had a stain on your left pocket.
-Amanda, where did you park your car just now?
-No clue.
There’s a subset of women with baskets of spray painted pinecones displayed in their home, and my mother is their king.
I got an online ancestry test done, then fourteen of my relatives were arrested.
Team leader: This is a do or die situation.
Me: It absolutely is not.