How a Work Trip to the Hallmark Christmas Universe Royally Fucked My Marriage
I apologize, she giggles and our shared weakness for Snickerdoodles suggests we will fall madly in love by Christmas. Her name is Lacey Sherbert.
I apologize, she giggles and our shared weakness for Snickerdoodles suggests we will fall madly in love by Christmas. Her name is Lacey Sherbert.
Marcus makes you miserable playing ultimate frisbee inside and then using his Frisbee as a plate, but are you willing to give up the incredible gifts.
I promise no more pretending the calendar’s a ventriloquist dummy with Jersey accent when I have my fingers inside Santa’s slot.
My mom mailed me back my matching pajama set with a note, “Don’t bother wearing our family Christmas pajamas unless you ask for something fun."
The man who I had married, the man who I’d seen get into a shoving match with a JV baseball coach, had become something unrecognizable.
Using the Instagram photos you got at the wedding, pick your poison: "does improv," "romantic photos with sibling," or "talks a lot about sneakers."
And what about that day I wore my ORGASM DONOR t-shirt and kept asking everyone in her family if they wanted to find out if they were a match?
Since you just ate at Taco Bell, you might be interested in knowing you are 8 minutes from home, which is where your toilet is. Traffic is clear.
Spending the night with your wife is now HAVING A SLEEPOVER WITH YOUR BESTIE. Dinner dates are now EATING WINGS WHILE YOU GOSSIP ABOUT NON-BESTIES.
I am overwhelmed with reports I have to finish, so I need someone smart to finish them, but not smart enough that my boss knows it’s not from me.
Our relationship---scratch that---friendship started when her sorority hired a petting zoo for a charity fundraiser.
I finish my first Peloton class and am so proud of myself I have a small panic attack. You can get panic attacks from joy, right?