My smart friend just told a story about Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald and I nodded the whole time, thinking to myself “Yes, I recognize both of those names.”
When I die, please don’t do an autopsy. Whatever happened is fine.
Of course this is the year I bring my famous Romaine pie to my in-laws.
“Something in the way she moos / attracts me like no udder lover”
My stomach just made the sound of a 68-year-old Long Island woman seeing her granddaughter for the first time.
Next time you’re on an elevator with a stranger say, “If the doors open and it’s all zombies, let’s team up.”
“Wanna pop a xanax in the Civic and kayak with mom and dad at noon?” “Can’t. Scared.” “Of the water?” “No. Palindromes.”
Just picked up an unknown call with a “Hello?” An old woman said “Joan?” So, I can cross “mistaken for a Joan” off the bucket list.
I have no beef with vegetarians.
How do male civil unions not end with the phrase “I dude”?