A man I know used to buy rotisserie chickens and eat them in his car while rage listening to conservative talk radio. I think about that a lot.
That man is my husband.
Going to be pissed if my best friend likes her baby more than me. Babies can’t bring you Cinnabon because they can’t drive and don’t own money, so keep that in mind, please.
Totally unhinged that I used to sleep off weekday hangovers in my car during my work lunch break in single-digit degree weather. These days I don’t even like taking Benadryl before bed when I have to wake up before 10 am the next day.
One time in college, my roommate and I got drunk and she accidentally sprayed herself with pepper spray. I thought she just had mascara in her eyes, told her she was overreacting, and then passed out in her bed. Seven years later I was in her wedding. That’s friendship.
My husband has gotten really into woodworking and keeps asking me insane questions like, “the legs are going to be tapered by 10 degrees instead of 15. Is that ok?”
My villain origin story is that @Lowes won’t let me return my unused Christmas tree that I bought during a manic online shopping spree the day after Christmas
Wild that bakeries will make you a cake and put just about any photo you want on it. For this reason I will take photos of absolute strangers and put them on your birthday cake. Just watch me.
It wasn’t until I was an adult that I learned that Clarissa did not, in fact, explain it all. Not once did she talk about why men can’t schedule their own doctor’s appointments.
Work place gossip is hilarious because after you get past a certain age it goes from who’s sleeping with who to what garbage human never chipped in the $5 for your boss’ birthday gift.
I love seeing Venmo transactions that are clearly for something illegal. You did not pay Jeremy for “Bar mitzvah.” You’re a 30-year-old with a coke habit.