Rebecca

It has come to my attention that my loud coworker is days away from having a nuclear weapon

*artillery rains down around our trench*
"Smoke 'em if you got 'em," Sarge growls.
"Finally," I exclaim, arranging my cedar chips under a perforated tray of mussels.

it’s the middle of the week
we could all use more butthole

professor x: what's your power?

me: deflection

professor x: bullets? gamma rays?

me: criticism

professor x: that’s a stupi—

me: say, is that a new tie?

I adopted a dog from Iceland and everyone thinks he’s vicious, but his Bjork is way worse than his bite

There’s always a Starbucks drink that sounds like it spends the summer in the Hamptons.

I support women’s rights and women’s wrongs. Especially mine.

What wine pairs best with power? I want to be drunk with multiple things at once.

*making sounds of enjoyment while eating Reese's peanut butter cups*

Husband: Sometimes I think you love those more than me.

Me:

Husband: Well?

Me:

*goes back to eating peanut butter cups*

If I get possessed, I hope the demon at least handles the things I’ve been avoiding.

Liking my posts counts towards your completionist bonus.

VC Andrews taught me that if something feels off, it is. And it’s probably hereditary.

The Lost Boys is what happens when red flags have great hair.

Quit trapping your thirsts. Sounds unhealthy.

Grateful for the posts that make me giggle

If loving cheese is wrong, I don’t want to be grate.

I like long, romantic walks away from the Super Bowl.

Tell me my short paragraph texts are annoying then proceed to ping me 20 times in 30 seconds

*loves you, just the way you are.

Boogers ARE funny. Shut. Up.

Lately, my emotional range is somewhere between “Jimmy crack corn” and “I don’t care.”

pulling your hair a little at lunchtime

If I were a dog, I’d probably always be barking up the wrong tree.

It’s ok if you don’t like my posts, I’ll be here all week.

Me: Who the hell do you think you are telling me how it's going to be?

Random groundhog in my yard:

February, love is in the air.
So is a deep desire to go home and lie down.

*bites your thigh to wake you up

Sometimes I sit by the window like I’ve lost the love of my life. But I’m just waiting for my DoorDash to arrive.

hosting a molotov cocktail party for the folks tap dancing on the graves of democracies