WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?

What’s the confusion? The ‘weird thing’ on that giant ass is just a black coat.

Correction: An earlier version of this story identified a talk show host as Jimmy Kimmel. He is in fact Jimmy Fallon, a different white man.

I’m going to be honest with you here. I’ve never actually heard an actual human voice say that name out loud, so it could be pronounced “bash bimby” and I wouldn’t even argue. 

“After the run-in with her niece, Viola decided to comfort herself with McDonald’s burgers and vodka.”
I’m just here to cosign this kind of self-care when arguing with family members. You gotta take care of yourself.

I refuse to fly American until they let me bring my service animal with me. My pet crocodile even has his own red service jacket and everything.

It seems every year, airlines shrink the amount of legume I get on an airplane.

When I first meet Donald, he say he have money, so we make fuck.

“ But what if it’s her giant diary where she writes all of her thoughts at the end of the day? “

When I was in college, I went to a rodeo with a bunch of friends. We all were drinking a lot beforehand and then took a bus downtown to the rodeo. We were so rowdy, constantly yelling “RODEO!!!!”, the bus driver pulled over and a cop got on and made everyone wearing a cowboy hat get off the bus.

Ditto for me, except it was the floor of the N train platform at 59th st. That pile of shit stayed there for WEEKS, with shitty foot tracks extending down both ends. They never cleaned it up, it eventually got lighter till it was “gone”—so fucking nasty.

I once saw a man shit into a cardboard box while waiting for the L train. I now consider that the second most offensive thing I’ve ever seen in the subway.

seriously, this is like every public transit pet peeve of mine rolled up into one package. Eating on the train? Loudly screaming/woo-hoo-ing? Littering your piñata confetti and silly string all over? Like, you’re not the only person on the planet and this shit is not cute, it’s hella inconsiderate.

I don’t want this stupid birthday party on my commute. Nope. And I don’t want the Showtime dancers either. I want an uneventful ride where I sit quietly with my headphones. I never want to be smacked in the face by a flying Showtime foot, but I ESPECIALLY don’t want to smell your train lobster. Beat it, all of you.

I may be in a mood, but I hate these people and if I had been in the subway car I would’ve literally wanted to murder them.

So incredible.  Happy birthday, Joni.  You are the greatest.

Then I fully support you embracing postman pants and crop tops this time around if you so choose!! (Actually, I support anyone’s right to bring it back in middle age if they want to, but I’ll be refraining, personally.) 

Y’all, if you wore this stuff the first time around, you’re at least 35, and probably more like 40-45. I just don’t think it’s going to look the same as it did back then.... I doubt I can button my old jncos, and I’m pretty sure my post-kid boobs are not going to look as good in my glittery tank tops as they did in…

I told this story a few years ago under a different burner account but I think it’s creepy enough for a re-tell, so here goes.

Can I just say thank you to everyone for posting? This was exactly what I needed after Kavanaugh and with the state of the world right now. Love all the ghosty stories. “The Face in the Window” was my favorite. I also really liked "Family is Forever". This makes me miss “Celebrity Ghost Stories” so much. If you ever…