Oh sure, E.T. can look for a snack in the fridge and end up drinking all the beer, but when I do it I suddenly “have a problem”, “get arrested” and am “banned from this supermarket”.
My problem isn’t that I lose all my chapsticks. It’s just that I don’t remember which one I used the last time I had the flu.
Me [crying]: I just don’t understand what I did wrong. Please let me in.
Automatic Door: Screw. You.
No coupon is really “expired” if you cry hard enough.
Him: I like a woman with a healthy appetite
Me (acing this date):
HR: In the kitchen, you wrote “Say hello to my lil dough friends”
Me: They were donut holes
HR: You also wrote “I know it was you, free dough- you broke my heart”
Me: Yes. Am I in trouble?
HR: Of course not. We’d like to promote you from Janitor to VP Marketing
Me: I used to use baby oil so I’d fry faster in the sun, then of course the eventual peel and tan that followed
Satan: I honestly don’t know where you belong. You’re very insane.
Me: *runs up* if anyone asks, we’re friends. just be cool.
Dog: *wags tail*
Me: oh you’re good.
Him: Sometimes I worry about you.
Me: Yeah, I worry about me, too.
*drinks beer from my glass slipper*
If you say ‘poo freed’ instead of proofread, literally no one can tell the difference.
Nope, that’s a tampon. Another tampon. Tampon. Jesus, how many tampons do I have in here?!
-me trying to blindly grab the chapstick in my purse
[enters elevator]
Me: *audible toot*
Them:
Me: I am not here to make friends.
Dude. It’s just a crayon. Don’t do anything drastic.
I’m always fascinated when people in movies run from a madman and then hide and hold their breath. Sometimes I snort for air and get a little sweaty while reaching for a puzzle piece that’s juuuuust out of reach across the table.