John Wayne ain’t got nothin on my fringe game.

Poetry in lyrics= “Open like the 7-Eleven.”

The novel is marinating so it will be even tastier.

“I be the keeper of trees, yo- my crib ain’t a rental; You mess with my nest, I’ll go enviroMENTAL.”

Thanks for introdouching yourself.

Only if there’s a zombie DiCaprio.

Remember: you’re the reason mom drinks.

The restraining order means I can only write to Joel Stein on the Internet now.

You can’t use the terms “clusterfuck” or “cuntasaurus rex” if you’re a mommyblogger, in case the advertisers don’t like it.

Don’t text and fly.