When I first met Matt Gaetz, I couldn’t get around his jumpiness. Do you ever meet those people who immediately make you think “No coffee for you!”
I had this other fleeting thought upon seeing his hyper, infantile, pinched-up face. I pondered, “I wonder if he’s allergic to anything that I could dose him with.” I didn’t want to kill the guy, but I did want to subdue him. He had that witness protection flightiness like he always needed to be facing the door.
I’m a cocktail-wise lady. I pride myself on it. I know what drink goes with what…
A local mom was shocked this morning to discover that she’s an asshole.
Local mom had been too busy to read the news for the past decade, due to soccer, chess club, math Olympics, gymnastics, travel, and volunteer work. Today, she picked up a newspaper. You could have knocked her over with an Evite.
“Oh my god,” she said. “I’m an asshole.”
While reading about families of 12 having to share one case of water, during a pandemic, during a power grid outage, when the refrigerator was warmer than the house, local mom spits out her Nespresso coffee.
What’s the deal with salads? Why are they so fucking hard to make? Why do they have to be such dicks? I’m sorry if I’ve offended dicks, but that’s what salads are. Just a bunch of dicks.
“Why dicks?” You may ask. “Is this gender bias? Can a salad be a vagina?”
No, a salad cannot be a vagina. Thanks for asking. A salad can only be a dick.
“Why are you comparing dicks to salads?” You may ask.
Good question. I’m not. I’m using the word dick as an insulting word, like “Gosh, Marcie, don’t be such a dick.”
I don’t know about the rest of you, but I plan on getting rich on Medium. Why not? Better place than any. I like the neighborhood. The people who live here read books and watch old movies, I think. People here aren’t afraid of talking about politics, religion, or sex. Why not get rich here?
Yet, you write articles telling me that I will not make money on Medium.
I don’t want to be rude, but you’re killing my dreams, Smalls!
Stop telling me I’m not going to get rich on Medium! You sound like my mother. …
I miss the memory of my grandma. Or shall I say, the non-memory of her?
It can be frustrating talking to someone who cannot keep track of the conversation you're having with them. It harder for them, but it’s hard for everyone once dementia kicks in. There’s not a lot of flow.
When I used to talk to my grandma, it was hard to figure out what she was grasping and what was floating by her. Sometimes 1924 was clearer than five minutes before. …
Hi, I’m a banana peel without a slip. You can only imagine how awkward that can be. All the other bananas are knocking people onto their asses and sliding people onto their faces. Not me. Never been able to trip anybody like that. Not once.
I’m totally erect. I have the posture of that prima ballerina at the New York City Ballet, Tiler Peck. I do her noon dance class on the Instagram. She has directly messaged me, complimenting my ability to not trip anyone, even when they’re wearing socks on a shined wood floor.
She doesn’t know how badly…
Everyone had a butt story growing up, except me. As a little girl, I always felt like Rodin’s The Thinker statue, fated to sit and think on his ass since 1904. Like Rodin’s The Thinker, I wanted to stand up, stretch out my legs, and shake my ass story at the world.
“Where is my butt tale?” I shook my fist and howled at the full moon each evening, in the cemetary behind my house, sitting beside the coyotes, as they chewed through rabbit ass after rabbit ass.
I traveled the whole wide world gathering other people’s butt tales, in…
Well, now you’ve done it, America. You’ve gone and made a passport for sex! Good for you.
Now, everybody gets a stamp whenever they get laid. You can’t get laid without it. The stamp says where you been, whatcha got, and when you got tested last.
The passport money belt is free. You keep your passport belt where you would have kept your chastity belt, if you lived in those sexually frustrating times. Do you see where that champagne bottle is placed in the above photo? That's where you keep your passport.
Your stuff isn’t available until your passport has…
Do you know who will empower the shit out of you when you need it the most? Drunk Girl in the Bathroom Line.
Do you know who knows what you’re worth, and would never let you go back to that fucking asshole who cheated on you? Drunk Girl in the Bathroom Line.
Do you know who loves you more than anyone in the world even though you just met her?
Do you know who thinks you have the prettiest eyes she’s ever seen and the best ass? Drunk Girl.
Do you know who’s gonna go back out there with you…
How are you, Ewok? Are you sleepy? Did you need more night night? Do you want soft soft? Do you want decapitated fluffy bunny? Are you still tired from yesterday? Did that walk wear you out? Did we make too many step steps?
What do you think Brad Pitt is doing right now?
Do you want breakfast? Do you want yum yums? Why are you looking at me like that? Do you want scratches? Do you want so many snuggles that there aren’t even any snuggles left in the world? Do you want play play?
Do you think Brad Pitt…
4 X Top Writer. Satire, Humor, Food, and Fashion Top Writer. If I find the punchline, I've found the truth.