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.

Before you try to keep up with the Joneses, be sure they're not trying to keep up with you.

The odds of going to the store for a loaf of bread and coming out with only a loaf of bread are three billion to one.

My mind works . . . two boobs never get me a job.

Most mothers entering the labor market outside the home are naive. They stagger home each evening, holding mail in their teeth, the cleaning over their arm, a lamb chop defrosting under each armpit, balancing two gallons of frozen milk between their knees, and expect one of the kids to get the door.

Maybe you know why a child can reject a hot dog with mustard served on a soft bun at home, yet eat six of them two hours later at fifty cents each.

No One Diets on Thanksgiving.