“I have a Black husband/boyfriend”

“I have a Black husband/boyfriend”

No fucking sympathy for you MAGAts. Don’t write (tax) checks your asshole can’t cash.

Cognac and Coke, not me, but a really dumb friend.

Peach Schnapps. Tasted like Angels’ ambrosia going down. Tasted like Satan’s rectum coming back up. 

I used to do that with my coffee, always leave at least 1/4 in the cup to get cold and scummy. I still do it sometimes. 

We did macaroni and ketchup.  Nothing else added, nothing. 

We used to eat macaroni with ketchup as our pasta sauce. I was in my teens before I had real pasta sauce. I wanted to go home and shake my mother.

Try “12345678"

Blazing Saddles and the original King Kong, even if they’ve already started, I’ll sit through them to the end. 

Also try to use one when a kid is using it like a toy and the parents are yukking it up as the funniest thing they ever saw because jr just ordered 17 Big Macs. No thank you.

I offered my Netflix to three persons. One friend never used it because he didn’t like anyone knowing his viewing habits. The second friend never found anything she liked. The third person watched it almost 24 hours a day to the point that I knew he was streaming even when he wasn’t watching it. I changed my password…

She had her usual long convoluted excuse about how everything went wrong that day.  I told her I wasn’t interested and walked away. 

I stopped seeing a friend because she always ran late. She knew it and always had a bullshit excuse. I told her if she was late for my wedding the friendship was over. She was late. She is also no longer a friend. 

Jesus, I’m itching to smack their smug faces.  Sometimes violence is the answer. 

Chicken. My grocery store marks chicken 50% off the day it expires. I bought breasts, put them in the fridge and forgot about them for a few days. They seemed a little slimy and smelled a bit off but I figured cooking will kill any germs. Cooking does not kill everything. I spent the night and next day stretched out…

Should just stick with turkeys.  According to WKRP they can fly. 

I never talk about the tip, I just give it. 

A friend with no personality often hits on waitresses in the firm belief that they find his 50 something pudgy pasty dad wearing jeans persona the best thing that walked in the door. He doesn’t realize that those smiles and friendly banter are paid for.

She’s basically a dumb Stacey Dash.