I wear the hats in this relationship.
“Remember your birthday when we got you the doll cake?” “Yeah, that was when I got my knees crushed.”
Your under-boob is driving me nuts.
I’m jeopardizing my body! I’m jeopardizing my body!
That shit belongs on Twitter.
I wish I had a pool in my backyard. And a backyard.
He was in hospice. They stay with you and help you die.
Maybe it wouldn’t get done well, but it would get done.
This Scotch just opened my ear canal.
You’re not lactose intolerant. You’re pretentious.
I’m gonna spend a little time in my man cave at Starbucks.
By 30, you should probably have something you can cook—besides frozen pizza.
So we’re the none-percenters?