Face Palm
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It’s not just me, right? |
Other works in this series include:
The counter above the dishwasher is NOT the dishwasher!
and
![]() |
It’s not just me, right? |
Other works in this series include:
The counter above the dishwasher is NOT the dishwasher!
and
“Oh God… gag… gag… BLECH… shudder “What? What is it?” David asks from upstairs. “Putting molasses on top of peanut butter toast doesn’t help,” I say. “Anne-Marie was wrong.” I shudder, still gagging, as I begin to scrape the molasses layer off of my peanut butter. gag… gag… Two days ago, when I was complaining…
“Don’t shave them DRY!!” I gasp, horrified. “Ah, but my pits are youthful, Mama…” “Oh, I get it, and my pits are elderly, decrepit, crabby pits?” She shrugs and shaves her own dry armpits. “You’ve got to watch out for them though,” I say. “The hair in the elderly, decrepit, crabby pits is so strong…
In the mid-80s the bus dropped me off on Ness Avenue and I walked two major blocks south to get to high school. I walked down the alley behind Ainsley Street – this was Winnipeg – we had alleys everywhere. I had two goals every morning: get to school early and walk faster than Francine…
There he is, seated on the love-seat next to the kitchen. In his striped onesie. Trying to blow his nose. “Morning love,” I say. “Borning,” he manages. He is adorable. “You hungry?” “Yeb, pleebe.” “How about some eggs?” He nods sadly. “Pleebe.” Poor guy looks so exhausted. I know that he didn’t sleep well last…
Is one of the by-products of peri-menopause bigger boobs? Because I’m pretty sure that my boobs are growing. Swear to God. I feel like I have pregnant boobs. I’m ALL boobs. I look in the mirror and they’re just… there… I mean really, there. Like KAPOW there!! I walk into the room and they…
“Hey look at this!” says Rissa. She’s just received her “prize” pack for selling a shit-load of magazines subscriptions for her school fund raiser. They give the kids a bag chock full of items they must get in bulk from higher end dollar stores. They’re all pretty much craptastic, but it is, after all, a…
“Oh God… gag… gag… BLECH… shudder “What? What is it?” David asks from upstairs. “Putting molasses on top of peanut butter toast doesn’t help,” I say. “Anne-Marie was wrong.” I shudder, still gagging, as I begin to scrape the molasses layer off of my peanut butter. gag… gag… Two days ago, when I was complaining…
“Don’t shave them DRY!!” I gasp, horrified. “Ah, but my pits are youthful, Mama…” “Oh, I get it, and my pits are elderly, decrepit, crabby pits?” She shrugs and shaves her own dry armpits. “You’ve got to watch out for them though,” I say. “The hair in the elderly, decrepit, crabby pits is so strong…
In the mid-80s the bus dropped me off on Ness Avenue and I walked two major blocks south to get to high school. I walked down the alley behind Ainsley Street – this was Winnipeg – we had alleys everywhere. I had two goals every morning: get to school early and walk faster than Francine…
There he is, seated on the love-seat next to the kitchen. In his striped onesie. Trying to blow his nose. “Morning love,” I say. “Borning,” he manages. He is adorable. “You hungry?” “Yeb, pleebe.” “How about some eggs?” He nods sadly. “Pleebe.” Poor guy looks so exhausted. I know that he didn’t sleep well last…
Is one of the by-products of peri-menopause bigger boobs? Because I’m pretty sure that my boobs are growing. Swear to God. I feel like I have pregnant boobs. I’m ALL boobs. I look in the mirror and they’re just… there… I mean really, there. Like KAPOW there!! I walk into the room and they…
“Hey look at this!” says Rissa. She’s just received her “prize” pack for selling a shit-load of magazines subscriptions for her school fund raiser. They give the kids a bag chock full of items they must get in bulk from higher end dollar stores. They’re all pretty much craptastic, but it is, after all, a…
“Oh God… gag… gag… BLECH… shudder “What? What is it?” David asks from upstairs. “Putting molasses on top of peanut butter toast doesn’t help,” I say. “Anne-Marie was wrong.” I shudder, still gagging, as I begin to scrape the molasses layer off of my peanut butter. gag… gag… Two days ago, when I was complaining…
“Don’t shave them DRY!!” I gasp, horrified. “Ah, but my pits are youthful, Mama…” “Oh, I get it, and my pits are elderly, decrepit, crabby pits?” She shrugs and shaves her own dry armpits. “You’ve got to watch out for them though,” I say. “The hair in the elderly, decrepit, crabby pits is so strong…
In the mid-80s the bus dropped me off on Ness Avenue and I walked two major blocks south to get to high school. I walked down the alley behind Ainsley Street – this was Winnipeg – we had alleys everywhere. I had two goals every morning: get to school early and walk faster than Francine…
There he is, seated on the love-seat next to the kitchen. In his striped onesie. Trying to blow his nose. “Morning love,” I say. “Borning,” he manages. He is adorable. “You hungry?” “Yeb, pleebe.” “How about some eggs?” He nods sadly. “Pleebe.” Poor guy looks so exhausted. I know that he didn’t sleep well last…
Is one of the by-products of peri-menopause bigger boobs? Because I’m pretty sure that my boobs are growing. Swear to God. I feel like I have pregnant boobs. I’m ALL boobs. I look in the mirror and they’re just… there… I mean really, there. Like KAPOW there!! I walk into the room and they…
“Hey look at this!” says Rissa. She’s just received her “prize” pack for selling a shit-load of magazines subscriptions for her school fund raiser. They give the kids a bag chock full of items they must get in bulk from higher end dollar stores. They’re all pretty much craptastic, but it is, after all, a…