Weekends don’t count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless.
Talking with you is sort of the conversational equivalent of an out of body experience.
Reality continues to ruin my life.
As a kid, I knew I wanted to be either a cartoonist or an astronaut. The latter was never much of a possibility, as I don’t even like riding in elevators.
Leave it to a girl to take the fun out of sex discrimination.
Sometimes I think the surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that none of it has tried to contact us.
People who get nostalgic about childhood were obviously never children.
Careful. We don’t want to learn from this.
I’m not dumb. I just have a command of thoroughly useless information.