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.

My handbasket will be in the express lane to Hell.

OK, listen…

Suicide is bad, please don’t do it, SOMEONE needs you. I am very lucky in that whatever may be wrong with my brain, I’ve never actively considered it.

HOWEVER. I also have a fucked-up way of looking at things. So, an acquaintance posted this on Facebook…

…and I know what they’re TRYING to say, but suicide *absolutely* ends the chances of life getting worse. It ends the chances of…LIFE.

Does it ALSO eliminate the possibility of things getting better? Sure. But this is just a faulty construct.

(I’m leaving out that things don’t always get better for everyone, and if I were suicidal, this might make me feel worse, like things get better for everyone BUT me and I’m just not trying hard enough, but I’m just focusing on the biology.)

Hi. I’m a bad person.

Saw this on the Women at Forbes page and…sorry, I had to…

I’m done being shitty about Mother’s Day, though, I promise.

“I’m going to hell,” part 2

Would it be wrong to say I’m gonna go get gender reassignment surgery entirely so Comcast can kiss my dick?

It would?

OK, fair enough.

Glad I didn’t say it, then.

The road to hell is paved with my tweets.

I’m going to hell.

2016: “Not all men!”

2017: “Hold my dick.”

Of Mice and Man Voice

My OkCupid profile says I’m looking for someone smarter than I am, and when the site asks what I’m “really good at,” one of my answers is “aural fixation (man voices are the BEST).”

Today I got a first message that included: “I am not smarter, as you say you often prefer, and don’t have a man voice, but you sound like a good person I’d like to talk to anyway.”

1. I don’t “often prefer,” I always prefer — everyone I know is smarter than I am, so I’m pretty much constantly learning. But why would you assume, let alone lead with, not being not smarter than I am? I clicked his profile, he seemed fine. How does he know I didn’t blow my entire intellectual load setting up that profile and then wander away to have George tell me about the rabbits? (<– I’m going to hell for that.)

2. OMFG, I love man voices. My friends wonder why I end up having phone sex so often before I meet these guys — I don’t mean to. But I get all squirmy hearing man voice and one thing leads to another and all my blood rushes downward and then my hand decides to investigate and then the guy hears a catch in my voice and then he gets on board and then it’s all the entire hell over.

…Shut UP. I’m gonna bring phone sex back! (I am not. No one is.)

I’m about to go high-five this woman’s vagina.

I was debating what to post today but couldn’t decide. And that was CLEARLY because the Lord Baby Jesus knew I’d see this 5 minutes later and laugh so hard my stomach hurt:

“Jesus be a fence around this baby’s mother’s Love Pocket. May it recover, in His MIGHTY name. I IMMEJATELY started doing kegels upon seeing the picture because I got stressed by proxy.”

“This baby walked out of his mothers vagina with a career and bills.”

“…My uterus just put up a ‘closed forever’ sign when I read this. Any eggs that were left over just scrambled themselves to save my poor lady bits from that type of destruction. I’ll be over in the corner with my legs crossed thinking about ice packs and Percocet.”

P.S. I am aware I’m a bad person. But some of the comments are so, SO funny.

Via Awesomely Luvvie: Whose Precious Giant Newborn is This?

Priorities, people.

Well, yeah, don’t be silly — we only care where Dennis Hastert’s dick is if it’s in the wrong restroom, not in a minor.

— Via Twitter

I feel as though the Asshole Ratio is pretty even here.

I understand this goes against my general “do unto others” philosophy — I would NOT want this done to me. I feel bad about it, it’s a dick move, and makes me a GIANT asshole.

We all on board? Excellent, ’cause I’m posting this screenshot of an OkCupid message, anyway. There’s too much majesty in it to be confined by a mere retelling. You must behold the glory in its entirety.

Identifying information has been deleted/changed to protect the overly cheerful at 8:goddamn-13 in the morning.

Damn, that’s a lot of emojis when you’re 52. (Or any age, really. But 52 for sure.)

P.S. My profile mentions Carlin’s seven dirty words, but just generally, gentlemen — pro tip? Never lead with farts. I’m still a lady, fuckface.