Kid's Honest Career Choice
My kid asked what I wanted to be when I grow up. I said, 'Financially stable.' She replied, 'You're already grown up.' She's five and already crushing my dreams.


















My kid asked what I wanted to be when I grow up. I said, 'Financially stable.' She replied, 'You're already grown up.' She's five and already crushing my dreams.
Adulting requires three things: a calendar to track your life, a second calendar because you forgot the first one exists, and a third thing that I've already forgotten what we were talking about.
Seattle's fireworks got out of hand. First night: nice display. Second night: professional pyrotechnics. Third night: the Space Needle just texted everyone 'I'm moving to Portland, good luck.'
My kid asked why I talk to myself so much. I said, 'Because I'm the only adult in this house who listens.' Now he does it too—we're both just narrating chaos to an empty audience.
Social media has me so addicted, I'm not living my life anymore—I'm just filming it in vertical. My therapist is now a horizontal line I scroll past.
I heard Tanner Scott is trending with 500+ searches. People are really looking for him—turns out his WiFi password was that complicated.