No thanks, Cosmo. I already know 20 ways to drive my man crazy in the bedroom. Any room really. Unintentionally. I’m difficult to be with.
Apparently “cool story, bro” is not an acceptable substitute for “congratulations” when your friend calls and tells you she’s pregnant.
I put my earbuds on just like everybody else. Frantically as someone approaches.
A guy with a ponytail wearing mirrored sunglasses and camouflage pants just checked me out and winked at me. Still got it.
Purchased an hourglass for my desk at work to flip when people stop by to make them uncomfortable.
Before Batgirl can become Batwoman she has to have a Batmitzvah.
If I knew you in high school and your Facebook profile picture is a baby I’ll assume you’re Benjamin Button and unfriend you.
My favorite thing about babies is that none of them are mine.
I wonder who the sorting hat will choose as the new Pope.
I bet Lance Armstrong is smugly saying “at least I didn’t kill anybody” to like every person he sees today.
Don’t forget to take a screen shot of the weather forecast today and post it on Instagram.
How does Disney decide who needs pants and who doesn’t?
I’d run way more miles a day if someone holding a bagel was running in front of me and someone holding a spider was chasing after me.
My cat is meowing loudly so I told her to use her indoor voice and she was like, “bitch, I’m an indoor cat. This IS my indoor voice.”
No thanks, babies. If I’m going to let something inside of my body that’s going to destroy my figure, it’ll be cheese, bread and booze.