such as

I am your grandma.

Whenever my brother Marty refers to something as “tight” (a colloquial term applied to something you find agreeable), I always like to yell, “No, it’s loose.”

And that's six expressions more than all them Barrymores put together.

I have cable! I have cable! The sorta good kind! I reinstalled TWC because AT&T was overpriced and super shoddy.

I spent the day getting reacquainted with the fire of my loins, Anthony Bourdain and the fire of my bowels, Paula Deen.

Now I am getting comfortable without any trousers and will watch Funny Girl while Domino’s gets here. No I will not put on pants. The pizza boy will have to take seeing me in my silk grannies as a tip.

Decisions.

I have a case of donuts. Awful store bought ones. I’m thinking about letting myself have these donuts as I don’t feel so well as to consume that nasty Paula Deen pie just yet. Everytime I eat these donuts, it is murder on the bowels. But yet, they’re across from me. Smiling, almost. I could have them with a glass of milk. I’m kind of itchy.

I remember reading on Jez or here, I think, about a type of diet, well eating style, really, one does where you could think about the implications of a certain foodstuff once consumed and use it to bench whether or not you should have certain foodstuff? I don’t know. I don’t remember very well except that that idea sort of stuck with me.

I could have some two donuts and be on the toilet in 20 minutes with the Geneva Convention on line #1 or I could not. Decisions.

I am a child.

I whine, kick and scream to get out of things that are really no trouble.

Yet I can’t do them, even when calm.

I probably don't say this enough, Mo, but I love you like a gray-haired southern chick loves butter.

(via crabbyalissa)

If we were in person, I would reciprocate this love in true Paula Deen-style and lick chocolate off your face.

I have a Paula Deen pie from WalMart that I will be eating tomorrow.

rosasparks:

suchas:

Apparently, it’s disgusting. I had to try it.

I am crying with laughter over the emails sent.

You have to write about this tomorrow. It should include pictures of the product.

The original post was so hilarious, I needed a diaper change. Someone really, really hated their Paula pie.

I have a Paula Deen pie from WalMart that I will be eating tomorrow.

Apparently, it’s disgusting. I had to try it.

I didn't mean that heart thing, you guys.

Finicky peoples do, though. Heart their stuff because they followed you.

Nyah!

If you don’t validate me you have to get out of my room!

And shut the door too! Don’t even think about making small talk with my mom on your way out, neither! Put the hotpocket down!

Some people on tumblr sure do feel important.

It’s a blog. Christ in clogs.

Dear zits: get the fuck off my fucking face. Love, Aaron.

(via inothernews)

Can you cc that over to the volcanoes on my face? Kthnxbai.

My butt itches.

I’m by myself right now. I shouldn’t be so self conscious as to dig in there and relieve myself.