Well. They can’t all be winners, I guess.

It was really funny in my head.


The snow day is throwing me off entirely. ENTIRELY.

Oh man. That was funny.

Dammit. Gonna have to find a new favorite Scotch now. Thanks a lot, Johnnie Walker. Bastards.

“Least Masculine Society In Human History Decides Masculinity Is A Growing Threat” So sad when satire is actually truth. Also I love you Babylon Bee.

Wow. These jokers get this wrong every. single. year. Unbelievable.

No one is ever bloody happy.

I for one would like to see the shutdown end in Thunderdome. But I’m a little bloodthirsty, so …

20 rounds per month?? What even is the point? Also why does anyone live in Oregon??

Here’s the thing I don’t get about My Favorite Murder. Why is everyone always showering them with gifts? Shit. I talk about murder and also death all the time and no one’s saying OMG JEN! Here’s a cross stitch of your face!!!

I like free shit too. That’s all I’m saying.

Well. At least that’s caught up. Still feeling woefully behind.

I thought Google+ was going away.

Sorry, Ash Williams.

Seems like it’d be really hard to pee in one of those blue Gillette catsuit thingies.

It never fails to crack me up when people use illicit when they mean elicit. It is never not funny.

What is it with Democrats and blonde women?

Where the fuck is Chuck?

Ohhhhhhh. I like that theory! That’s actually incredibly plausible.

Now this made me cry.

I’m just so fucking tired of ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING being politicized. It’s fucking SCOTCH. Just let it be Scotch. Just let me have my fucking Scotch.

I did my best every time. So. Whatever.

I don’t think you should get kudos for half assing the entire thing. But you will. Because that’s how it works.

It’s a shame you can’t mark email from your own organization as spam.

Sometimes I think “Maybe The Bustle is just REALLY clever satire …” But no. No it’s not. They’re completely serious. So tediously, obtusely serious.

This man is a hero.

I can’t help it if you don’t understand hyperbole when it’s slapping you in the face.

The Penguin Press Instagram account really needs a proofreader.

Damn. What’s a girl gotta do?

I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder in the summer when there is no escape from the giant ball of face melting death floating in the painfully clear blue sky.


Why do I try to read The Atlantic. Ever.

I don’t care about this topic. I don’t want to go to this meeting. That could be said of nearly every single meeting I ever have to attend, actually.

Hey. I don’t smoke weed. I could be a marijuana billionaire. He’s probably a billionaire because he doesn’t smoke weed.

I still hate Zac Efron’s eyebrows.

If you’re not 17 years old or younger, stop making heart hands at people.

(Totally guilty of making heart hands for a photo. But also to my son. Who is FOUR, which makes it ok.)

I should go back to never posting on FB. I was doing alright when I was being self deprecatingly humorous. I think now I’ve just pissed people off.

But you literally just said the end of the world was nigh.

I was thinking about getting the mail, but I’d rather not break my neck on the ice.

“New York just protected access to abortion.” “New York just legalized murder of fully developed human babies.” I guess this sums it up for me – all of politics I mean.

I don’t want to know the kind of person who is OK with aborting a baby up to the moment of birth. Sorrynotsorry.

This woman just gets dumber and dumber.  But also more and more hilarious.

It kind of breaks my heart that people actually voted for that level of stupid purposely.

I got the mail!

OK Let’s just go with it.