Meditation State Is A Place Of Deep

I Figure If The Kids Are Alive At The End Of The Day, I've Done My Job.

My Daughter Made Me A Jerry Springer-watching Kit, With Crackers, Cheez Whiz, Polyester Stretch Pants And A T-shirt With Two Fat Women Fighting Over A Skinny Guy.

This Bugs Me The Worst. That's When The Husband Thinks That The Wife Knows Where Everything Is, Huh? Like They Think The Uterus Is A Tracking Device. He Comes In: "hey, Roseanne! Roseanne! Do We Have Any Cheetos Left?" Like He Can't Go Over And Lift Up The Sofa Cushion Himself.

My Husband Is Almost As Heavy As I Am. We Were Married In Adjoining Churches.

The End Of My Addiction To Fame Happened At The Exact Moment Roseanne Dropped Out Of The Top Ten, In The Seventh Of Our Nine Seasons. It Was Mysteriously Instantaneous!