I’m shopping online for hiking shoes, which are apparently a thing I need for my goddamn VACATION? Fucking nature people. 🙄
Anyway. Guess which hiking shoe I’m NOT buying?
Fuck you, you fucking “fashionable for ladies” fuckface. I don’t give a flying fuck if my fucking shoes are fucking fashionable!
…OK, fine, I totally care, but that’s not the MAIN thing I’m looking for. ASS. How ’bout you take your fashionable shoes for a hike up to Shut Fuck Mountain, jackass?
“I rarely see children. I’ve organized my life in such a way, I never have to talk to or be around a child.”
— Bill Maher (sorry)
Me: “My scale still hasn’t moved, but I can see and feel changes in my body, so I know the scale is just being a jerk.”
Therapist: “I’m glad you blame the scale. Some people blame themselves, thinking they have to exercise more often or restrict their diets more.”
Me: “No way. Why should *I* change? He’s the one who sucks.”
Aaand that’s how I decided to name my scale Michael Bolton.
The good news is, my new neighbor is either a hot, young-ish guy, or has hot, young-ish guy visitors at 10 pm on Saturday nights.
The bad news is, I learned this by passing said hot, young-ish guy at the common door, as he was walking in and I was walking out to meet the grocery delivery guy…and I was wearing mismatched pajamas and slippers, with hair I THINK was last washed on Thursday?
Um… it’s… um… fashion?
Quotable therapist: “I promise, you don’t hit menopause and automatically become a Republican.”
You heard it here, folks.
Adele: “So I’m reading this wrong?”
Felix: “Well, you did just mix mood stabilizers with gin, darling.”
Adele: “That’s brunch.”
— Orphan Black
“Hello, Katarina. Make anyone cry today?”
“Sadly, no. But it’s only 4:30.”