I don’t think I even WANT answers.

I recently downloaded a word game, and this is one of the ads they show for a different game, and I have a LOT of questions.

PMS: The Mother(fucker) of Invention

If my pizza place had any sense, they would sell my dinner tonight as some kind of PMS Special. Like a McDonalds combo — you could just ask for the PMS #5 and it’d be nachos and a chocolate milkshake. Or there could be a column system: one salty and one sweet, with an optional drizzle of our house-blended mansplainer tear reduction.

Yeah, this should definitely be a thing.

This needs more science.

One of the things I hate most about depression is… OK, fine, I COULD be. I’ll allow it. But has anyone considered that everything actually IS boring and shitty, and that staying in bed IS, in fact, the solution?

It merits investigation, is all I’m saying.

Adding this to my resume

Y’all. I am GREAT in bed.

Not sexually, I’m just really happy to be here.

Diggin’ at the Duggars

So…when I search my library’s app for books about clutter, one of the results is a book about the Duggar family.

I couldn’t make that up. I am nowhere NEAR that funny.

Sweet Home Anxiety

I’m watching Sweet Home Alabama, and even when I saw it in the theater, when he takes her into Tiffany and tells her to “pick one” engagement ring, I got anxious. That’s too many choices, I’ll be here for 14 hours. YOU pick one. I’m-a go get a pretzel.

(And by “YOU pick one,” I mean pick one at Kohl’s and use the rest of the money to take us to Italy.)

(OK, fine, not really Kohl’s — I’m not THAT bad. But he’d know which friends to call.)

A fundamental flaw in the system

FAR too much “self care” requires getting out of bed, which defeats the whole idea.

Ahh, fork ME…

“Brain. Come on. Work with me.”

“I will sit on the couch, watch The Good Place again, and eat chocolate chips out of the bag. These are my terms.”

*sigh* DICK.