My mother always told me never to say “hate”, so let’s get together and talk about people we would enjoy murdering.
You really impress me, but to be honest, I’m still kind of blown away by the invention of the spatula. I mean, come on, that thing is genius.
I’m pretty sure the key to happiness is to not think too much about anything ever.
Life has its ups and downs and its turns and bumps, but sometimes there’s a bar up there on the left, so life is good sometimes, also.
I’ve been trying to convince my boss to wear a bell.
I like to think of my dating life as more of a catch and release program for wild morons. Next time you’re at a bar, avoid guys with tagged ears.
I look back to when we were younger, and I really feel like I owe you. But your birthday is not time to focus on revenge. That will come sometime later. When you least expect it.
You’re living proof of how high a person can rise from such humble, awkward, smelly, pimpled, webbed-footed, hunch-backed beginnings.
You’re the kind of sister that most people write stories about. With titles that usually start with Return Of, Revenge Of, or Curse Of.
The truth is that you’re not nearly as ugly as all the wilderness animals I will continue to compare you to. Happy Birthday, gorilla arms.