I took way too much xanax over the weekend. None of my friends or family heard from me and the only record I have of my past 2 days is a google search history of: Vodka Jacuzzi, human hamster wheel, and how to tie a tie.

I use to joke the Netflix knew me better than I knew myself. I was proved right when it recommended a documentary on cheating husbands.

I woke up this morning to look at my cracked iPhone. I was informed by my friends that I told it to " find cocaine" and got furious when all Siri would show me was rehab centers.

After 5 rounds of interviews, I got my application to work for the FBI rejected. Apparently, they're pretty good at finding old sex tapes.

I got tired of giving my co-worker the, "Yes, I know we're both on a swingers matchmaking website. I won't tell anyone if you don't" look.

Thanksgiving dinner was interupted by the sound of hardcore pornography. In my rush to not get noticed, I knocked my headphones out of the plug and was oblivious to the fact that pornhub was blasting out of my speakers and not out of my headphones.

My Nike fitness app is pretty good at showing the world how many miles I've run. It's also pretty good at getting me fired for lying about being at home sick with the flu.

I swallowed a thin baggy of glitter to win 1st place on a poop rating website. It's the highest honor I've ever been bestowed.

I did nothing when they increased prices, I even put up with the idea of qwikster, but when Netflix thinks it's OK to put a Justin Bieber Documentary in my Top 10 Recommendations, it's getting canceled.

It went to the point where our "sex bat signal" became my boyfriend fertilizing my crops on farmville.