I’m no candle in the wind. I’m a flamethrower at a baby shower.
My daughter and I decided to play Monopoly, and we’ve been arguing about the rules for the last hour.
Someone called me “down to earth” and I was like, “hey look, mister, you’ve got the wrong woman.”
I don’t really like pie, but I will still eat six pieces to be polite.
I don’t care which way the toilet paper faces. I was raised with real problems.
Prosecutor: What exactly were you doing May 26, 2016?
Me: According to my tweets, I was sitting in my car eating Wendy’s.
Wow, the Fire Marshall really has no sense of humor these days.
Magneto: Never trust a beautiful woman, especially one who seems interested in you.
Me: *on the couch eating Ruffles in sweatpants* Yeah.
I caught myself in the mirror eating a peach and instantly realized why so many people have boundaries with me.
My kids pissed me off so much I bought some overalls to wear every day in public when they’re with me.
I’m about to go for a run as soon as I text all my enemies and let them know.
The Pillsbury Doughboy is a goddam monster who sacrifices his own people so that he can get a finger poke.
I don’t want to establish dominance. I want to take a nap while someone else handles everything.
I want to be the woman in the neighborhood rumored to be a witch that eats children.
Astrology isn’t real. Oh wait- I share a birthday with Lizzie Borden? Okay, that checks out.