My sunglasses are always prescription so if they’re stolen, it becomes two idiots who can’t see.
There’s a fire burning in my heart, no wait, it’s acid reflux, carry on.
My new rescue dog has figured out how to step on the pedal and open the trash can.
I don’t think my children ever learned that.
I did errands without my phone and it took 6 days, 17 hours and 59 minutes less time.
“We no longer use straws,” he said, handing me two plastic bottles of water. “They’re bad for the environment.”
People who race to pull out in front of me and then go below the speed limit, explain yourselves.
How many towels can your young adult son use when he visits? All of them. Even ones you’ve forgotten you own.
Remember when we thought 2016 was a terrible year and wanted it to be over?
Good times.
Some generations will never know having to drive by someone’s house to see if they’re home.
A minute, 45 seconds.
How long I’ll hold my hands under a restaurant faucet before I finally realize it’s not motion activated.
“I left my carrot cake from the restaurant in the Uber” and other sad tales of city living.
A man approached me at a bar and tried to woo me with burritos. This is next level genius.
My son, frantically calling and texting, as if life depended upon it.
He’s brokered world peace?
Severed a limb?
Celebrating an international business deal?
No.
How does one make tacos.
TACOS.
I’m whitening my teeth while I bake so I don’t eat and OMG, guys, did you know brownie batter is still amazing mixed with hydrogen peroxide?
I’m sporting Cameron Diaz’ *Something About Mary” hairdo, but tragically, the magic ingredient is Cadbury Crème egg filling.