*does the Dirty Dancing lift with a slab of ribs*
Whatever, hissing raccoon. Sitting there, judging me. I didn’t mean to throw the cake in the trash so it’s still fair game.
This seems like a really, really bad idea.
*jumps in with both feet*
Him: It’s been like 30 years, I think you should let it go.
Me: It could still happen.
Me: [to my John Taylor Duran Duran poster] He’s just jealous.
Me: *points to donut case*
Her: How many would you like, ma’am?
So there’s a legend that in 1593, a soldier in Manila teleported to Mexico and I’ve never felt so connected to the lengths someone will go to for tacos.
Him: What are you doing?
Me: Rollin’ bones.
Him: I’ll roll your bones. *wraggles eyebrows*
Me: *does voodoo-y stuff*
Him: *turns into a hedgehog*
Dog: *turning in circles before she lays down*
Me: [extreme Ross voice] Pivot… Pi-VOT… PIVOT!
Chocolate: You’re a little emotional.
Ice cream: It’s gonna be okay.
Grilled cheese: I’m here for you.
Whiskey: Everything’s FINE
Tequila: LET’S WATCH THE HALLMARK CHANNEL
*sets up tent*
*unrolls sleeping bag*
*tosses down like fourteen decorative pillows*
Me: I’ll have the endless chips and salsa.
Waitress: But you can’t–
Me: –I LIVE HERE NOW