God created man, but I could do better.
Why would anyone steal a shopping cart? It’s like stealing a two-year-old.
When the history of guilt is written, parents who refuse their children money will be right up there in the Top Ten.
Limousines used to be reserved for the ruling class, or, on special occasions, for the working class. Today, limousines are like taxicabs with the door handles still intact.
Kids need love the most when they’re acting most unlovable.
I will buy any creme, cosmetic, or elixir from a woman with a European accent.
I was terrible at straight items. When I wrote obituaries, my mother said the only thing I ever got them to do was die in alphabetical order.
Who in their infinite wisdom decreed that Little League uniforms be white? Certainly not a mother.
I’m so bored. I went to the food locker yesterday to visit my meat.
The bad times I can handle. It’s the good times that drive me crazy. When is the other shoe going going to drop?
One meal a day is enough for a lion and would be for all of us if all we did all day was swat flies.
All of a sudden, I feel very old and very tired. Maybe when I get to California, the smog, brush fires, floods, and earthquakes will cheer me up.
My mother won’t admit it, but I’ve always been a disappointment to her. Deep down inside, she’ll never forgive herself for giving birth to a daughter who refuses to launder aluminium foil and use it over again.
Grandma told me Mama was once caught by the Principal for writing in the front of her book, “In Case of Fire, Throw This in First.” I have never had so much respect for Mama as the day I heard this.
I never go to a college reunion that I don’t come away feeling sorry for all those paunchy, balding jocks trying to hang onto youth. I feel sorry for the men, too.
Cats invented self-esteem; there is not an insecure bone in their body.
For the first two years of a child’s life, we spend every waking hour tryibg to get the child to communicate. Then we spend the rest of our lives trying to figure out how we can reverse the process.
I’ve always been intrigued with the variety of answers this generation will give their children who ask, “Where did I come from, Mommy?” They will range from “Number 176 vial in Buffalo, New York,” to “You were defrosted.”
My son did not show signs of a money deficiency until he opened his small fist in the nursery and found it was empty.
I got so much food spit back in my face when my kids were small, I put windshield wipers on my glasses.