Does anyone ever finish a jar of Vaseline? I’m still working on the one my great-grandpa passed down to me.
Not to get political, but gravy is a soup.
Being unable to recreate this high is why we all have depression.
Letting my 4-year-old niece cook me breakfast in her Easy Bake Oven and acting like I’m not about to absolutely destroy her on Yelp.
Me: *spits soup into bucket*
Chef: This isn’t that kind of tasting.
Anxious person at a party: Oh! This is a lovely front door! Let me see what it looks like from the outside.
There is no worse place to receive bad news than sitting in a beanbag chair.
Cashier: You just have to tap your credit card.
Me: *cautiously taps*
Cashier: Not against my forehead.
Oh, the Queen can move in any direction?
Let’s see her walk backward.
Now diagonally.
Cha-cha real smooth.
Me: *stands on one leg*
My flamenco teacher: No.
In an effort to make strangers more comfortable around me, I will now be kissing the hand of everyone I meet.
My kid is really into Animorphs, so I think he is going to love whatever The Human Centipede is.
Every great and accomplished chef had to start somewhere.
Doctor: It’s really not that bad. I’ll get you fixed up with 8 stitches.
Me, uninsured: Do I hear 5 stitches?
When the rapture happens at a midwestern nondenominational church.
