That does sound like fun, because pizza is always fun. Remember that. It’s a Rule to Live By.

Hi, I’m not Sarah McLachlan.

I am making myself go to a party by reminding myself that if you never go, people stop inviting you.

I was planning on going out with my sis but she changed her mind. Also bars are packed with drunk assholes, and going out sucks. So I’m staying home, and I think i’m ok with it. What are you guys up to?

They are the second most beige couple so I don’t even care.

She’d just be learning from her family’s former Sith Master:

Yes. When someone is so beautiful it becomes pointless. Like what could I possibly do with this? Same feeling I get when a desert is too cute/pretty. Can't eat it. Maybe that isn't the same thing. I'm stoned

He was probably using that newfangled social media ap: Splatchat.

As a food scientist, I can tell you that sex is extremely important in food preparation. It’s not a matter of gender; it’s entirely biological. A few science facts:

So we all agree that he went out and had a copy made, right?

I have a (now-married) friend who once dated a guy with an entire dresser where each of the drawers was made up as a teddy bear bed. And when she accidentally left one of the drawers open, he screamed “but the pterodactyls might get them!” They never went on another date.

My dad had me at 37. Everyone thought he was my grandpa until I told them he was my dad. He turned grey at a young age.

Oh no. I also said something along the lines of ‘what did you name that crystal you’ve got shoved up your ass?’

girl you know it’s girl you know it’s girl you know it’s

Every time I am reminded that Seth Cohen and Blair Waldorf are married, an angel gets his/her wings.

I’ve been campaining to get my sister to name my future niece Jane on the basis of:

I know a Quin Noah. Close enough?

“Fuck Steve Harvey,” was met with resounding agreement in my family, which is rare. Steve Harvey is such a douche it brought my family together, I’ll call it a Christmas miracle.

In this moment, I am Edvard Munch’s The Scream. It's the only way I can think to describe my level of mortification.