I went to New York City last weekend, and I brought back black and white cookies for my closest girlfriends. They all prefer the white side of the cookie. I prefer the black side. Racists.
I thought I always liked the smell of hair salons growing up, but I recently realized that I actually just like the smell of warm (but not burnt) hair.
In the shower this morning:
Husband: (Referring to monthly breast exams)You need a lump check friend.
Me: Yeah, I probably do.
H: Yeah, then I could watch. He he.
Me: Um, your friend REMINDS you to check for lumps, they don't check for you.
H: Oh, that's not nearly as hot.
You may now return to your regularly scheduled life.
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2 comments:
I think this qualifies as an overshare.
Thank you, dear Jim, thank you.
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