When you’re dirty and dripping wet, moaning from pleasure, you know those were some good chicken wings.
*hip thrusts my way to the buffet table*
*Texting* “Yeah sorry I’ve just got something very important to do. You go without me.”
*Pan out to me laying on the bed with a pan of brownies*
Why do we call it losing weight instead of lightening up?
“No, no, I’m fine. This is how I live now.”
-Me laying face down on the floor
Thank you lady with the screaming kid I almost forgot to pick up more condoms.
*licks lips*
Me: “Do that thing I like babe.”
Him: *orders pizza*
I’ve been buying men’s hoodies for years for myself. It’s all about skipping the middle man.
“Curiosity killed the cat”, only it’s me looking up my symptoms on the internet.
I love how once you hit 30 every conversation can be turned into a competition for how little effort was put into pulling a muscle.
I hate it when after installing a new app, it automatically puts it on the home screen. Like no. You have to earn that place. Now sit back down.
I can’t commit to plans with friends who wear fitbits.
-“No, I don’t want to take the stairs again, you psycho.”