A little of ‘The 12 Days of Christmas’ goes a long way.
Why didn’t anyone think to stop at half a dozen?
Or at those slow golden rings? The song stalls there anyway.
Plus, most of those gifts are utter nonsense. If my true love gave me any of that crap he’d be gone before we got to three French hens.
And what the hell is anyone going to do with eight maids-a-milking? I don’t drink that much milk in a year.
I cannot think of a more stressful situation than doing a yoga class with co-workers in the middle of a work-day.
Nama-stay-away.
Remind me again why everyone loves Christmas?
This ball of ornament hooks is SOLID.
Impenetrable.
Unextractable.
Biggest waste of a cookie: the snickerdoodle.
There. I said it.
What is the point of this bland and boring thing?
Food Network holiday cooking championships have filled the void left long ago by those classic Christmas cartoons.
{See also Hunk of the Day Jesse Palmer.}
I’m a short person living in a tall person’s kitchen. There are cabinets I have never opened. Don’t tell me my life is all rainbows and unicorns.
Riddle me this: how can ‘care-giver’ and ‘care-taker’ mean the same thing?
Some days you just can’t tie the tie on the first try.
The way a wasabi pea bites you back, so you keep eating more.
Overanalyzing anything so often leads to unhappiness.
Yes, those of us who work on the 10thfloor judge those who take the elevator to the 2ndfloor.
When it comes to making trouble I’ve always had one motto: you can fuck around with everyone but Andy. I mean, I’m not stupid. He is a retired police officer.
