The conditions inside my car have drawn attention from my boyfriend, my mother, and the Center for Disease Control.
Sorry I used the word flaccid twice in your wedding toast.
Somewhere in my brain is a tiny gland that blinds me to unwashed dishes.
Nothing puts me in touch with my mortality like stepping onto a downward escalator.
I’m smart but not “know when to stop eating” smart.
I’m just a girl.
Standing in front of a girl.
Wondering how she got her eyeliner on so perfectly.
You don’t know humility until your Ouija board gets snippy with you.
I bought a designer body bag and now I’m scared to gain weight.
I have a time phobia.
*looks at watch, panics
*looks at clock, panics
*looks at thyme “This I can handle.”
I’d get into a lesbian relationship just to mooch my girlfriend’s hair care products.
Doctor, reaching for a piece of paper: “Are you on any meds?”
Me: “You might want to grab a notebook.”
“Go ahead, caller. . .”
“Yes, hello. My dog dug up a femur and I’d like to make soup. Would you suggest carrots or potatoes?”
I was eliminated as a contestant on Fear Factor after running screaming from a bee.
I just got a text from someone I don’t know. They say they’re sick and vomitting.
Should I tell them that vomitting only has one T?
5 year old niece to me: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Me: Let’s not rush things, OK?