I’m sure they’ll work it out. It sounds like a miscommunication.

NO. FANK. YOU.

I think maybe we’re a groundhog’s day situation. I’m going to grab a toaster and get in the tub to test out the theory.

Cholula is better, and it already comes in adorable, little, 2oz bottles. Suck it sriracha lovers.

“Because she has probably been aborted,”

Great, another chance for me to disappoint my mother. She will again ask me why I didn’t become a detective, despite my never having shown any interest in such, and she will want to reminisce about Nancy Drew books that I never read because I was so bored by The Secret of the Old Clock.

Mine falls in in with the always destined to go woefully awry “good intention lie”. My mom and my biological father divorced when I was about 9 months old. My mother immediately started dating my stepfather (here after referred to as “Dad”). They had dated before but broke up because my dad felt he was too young to…

I thought the Vice President was the guy who lost the election. Like it was the second-place prize.

I’m super late on this, but when I was 4 or 5, I was presented with eggs benedict at a fancy breakfast. I did not want to eat them because they weren’t scrambled. So my dad told me that I used to eat them all the time “when you were younger”, and that I loooooved them. I gobbled them right up.

I don’t get it. They died? She killed them? Fed them to a neighbor’s snake? What?

Chad is the worst.

My parents told me that the lyrics to Guns n Roses Paraise City were “take me back to Prairie Dog City.” Because I liked prairie dogs in elementary school and used to draw them and write books about them.

When I was a little kid, one of my relatives told me that if someone killed the president, they got to be the new president. I believed that for longer than most kids believe in Santa Claus. :/

I’m the liar.

I learned from a young age to never trust The Man, but my sister must have been too busy breaking our stepmother’s unicorn figurines and blaming it on me to pay attention to that particular life lesson.

I am so god damned gullible i can’t even remember all of them. Most recently, JUST THIS WEEK, a coworker emailed to say her kid was reciting a poem at his school for the Christmas pageant and that “it would be on CNN.”

For some weird reason, my father told me that if you cut off your belly button, your butt would fall off. This fucking fascinated me, and I would spent way too much time thinking about what the inner workings of the human body could possibly be to make sure a thing happen.

This month I fully investigated myself and found myself guilty of being awesome. This, of course, was a completely unbiased investigation with comprehensive notes and interviews with my grandparents who know me to be without any flaws whatsoever. I’m pretty much perfect in every way.

This story coincidentally is one of the memories I am going to get EMDR for soon, so I can Men-in-Black that shit from my brain.

Alex Trebek. We were going to town, sweaty and frantic and he kept yelling, “Who is....your daddy?” over and over again like they phrase it on Jeopardy. Suddenly he pulled out and I was standing naked in front of the studio audience, crying.