Twitter | @lovelyjess @hannah_may21

16+ Hilarious Tweets From Women To Perk You Up When Coffee Just Isn't Enough

I'm currently on my third, possibly fourth, cup of coffee today and I still feel like a bag of hot garbage that missed pick-up and has been sitting curbside all week. So maybe it's time we try something else to perk us up a bit.

If your body is also inexplicably immune to the jittery, energy-boosting effects of a good ol' cup of joe today, you'll definitely appreciate these hilarious tweets from women.

So step away from the machine, it's not doing you any favors, and instead take a moment to enjoy some gut-busting tweets, courtesy of the wonderful ladies of Twitter.

The audacity.

I spent a lot of time thinking about how banging my booty would look in these jeans, and now they're over here giving me the kind of mom butt I definitely do not deserve.

Honestly, it's just insulting.

Oh no.

We're all finished. One of me walking around is bad enough but two? No no, that simply cannot happen.

It's a "no" for me.

Plus, you have to actually talk to people and that's just too much for me. I'll stay single, thanks.

We get it.

An entire week is just overkill. Even a simple phone call would do at this point. Maybe an email.

Well if this ain't me.

When I first started dating my boyfriend, I had him convinced that I was an independent woman who didn't need constant affection and attention.


It's like a super fun game.

I like that moment where you've tapped your debit card and you just stand there smiling reassuringly at the cashier while the machine tries to decide if your account's got what it takes to pay for that KitKat bar.

Sissy that walk.

I'm not sure if my dad was just a damn pro by the time that I, child number four, came out the gates in my new school clothes.

But he was always the best, most enthusiastic fashion show audience member there ever was, even asking me to give him a lil' spin in my new skort from Sears. Love you, dad.

A memoir.

Twitter | @emmabetsinger

She believed she could stay up until 11 PM to finish that episode of The Office she started but fell asleep and didn't because I guess 25 is the new 55?

Wait, why *is* this a thing?

I mean, I personally love my toast perfectly burned at setting number 4, but I also know I'm in the minority here.

So who the heck is cranking that thing up to number 8? Are we trying to zap-fry our bread to dust? Is that the goal here?

I need answers now.

The worst part about dating him was the dementors.

Honestly, if my boyfriend was Prison Mike then I, too, would be putting his mug on my key chain for everyone to see. The world needs to know of our love.

Someone call customer service.

Look, I'm pretty sure they're holding out on us and they're keeping the best-of-the-best hidden in a warehouse somewhere.


Twitter @laaayxo_

Also, I gotta keep an eye on my mom too because that lady also has a habit of dipping in my closet for some outfit options.

Just because I'm gone doesn't mean my wardrobe becomes a free-for-all.

Okay, but this is so true?

The way I talk about my beautiful rescue dog is definitely not the same way I talk about my demon cat that was found on the streets and still hasn't come around to the whole "domestic cat life" idea yet.

I can't even raise myself.

I have such mad respect for my mom because when I get home from work, I eat cereal out of the box and watch Netflix in sweat pants. But that lady was out here raising four terrible children and making beautiful meals every night.

Truly admirable.

It's just not possible.

My boyfriend also has a bad habit of buying us tickets to go see movies at 10 PM on a Tuesday night because it's "cheaper," but that's the perfect way to make sure I don't enjoy a 3-hour long movie like Once Upon A Time in Hollywood.

I'm just always worried. About everything. Ever.

For someone who says "I'm good!" all the time, I sure spend a lot of my day agonizing over things I did when I was 11, things I'm currently doing, and things I have to do in the near-future.

Someone get on this ASAP.

I can't keep getting my hands stuck inside those deceptively narrow tubes. It's 2020, this is just unacceptable.

Is this; right?

My English degree would make you think I have a good grasp on grammar, but I still end up throwing dashes and semi-colons into sentences without fully understanding the difference.

Lactose intolerance is just a suggestion.

"Maybe this time I'll be fine," I say as I shove a handful of mozzarella sticks into my mouth, knowing fully well it will not be fine this time, as it hasn't been any other time before.

What do we do now?

One time, I was walking through the subway and a group of men were walking towards me and I decided to do a little social experiment to see what would happen if I didn't get out of their way and we proceeded to play a very awkward, undesired game of Red Rover together.

I was the one who came over. And they did not appreciate it.

Dying, but make it cute.

I've become incredibly skilled at playing off cramps with pleasant smiles and totally un-bothered facial expressions. Until I'm alone in the women's washroom and am leaning up against the wall for support while I pop ibuprofen like Tic Tacs.

Your interests are no better.

We all like stupid things, so why bother making fun of each other for them? Let's just live and let live and enjoy our dumb interests in perfect harmony.

This is your cue to update your social media.

Showing your friends a guy's Tinder profile is just embarrassing because his only photos are probably from six years ago and look like they were taken with a flip phone but you still have to be like, "Isn't he cute?!"

I have yet to go to "night" once.

My "day to night" process means taking off my bra and putting on my boyfriend's Anchorman tee-shirt while I eat leftover spaghetti and text my mom.

Where's that look in the magazines?

It's that simple.

Let's just put it this way: most men agree with anything you say that requires very little thought and effort to support.

So maybe you need to be putting some more thought and effort into your conversations, sis.

"It's literally *never* changed, Kathy!"

Every time I get my hair done, I spend an hour in the chair, relaying my boring, do-nothing life to a woman who really couldn't care less, but has to ask out of societal obligation.

Please stop.

Other unacceptable S.O. references include hubby, bae, lover, and sidekick, just to name a few.

Let's all try to be a bit more original, okay?

You want it? You got it!

I mean, there is ice in iced coffee, so we're sort of giving our bodies the water they so desperately need. Plus, caffeine! Win-win!


I'm deeply inactive when it comes to everyone else's news but the minute I have something to share, I expect everyone to give their input and helpful advice. Non-negotiable.

No, they *really* did.

Ride, who was the first American woman in space in 1983, had to help struggling NASA engineers with one burning question: how many tampons does a woman need for one week of menstruation?

Incredibly, 100 was the number they landed on. Perhaps they were under the impression Ride had more than one reproductive system. Or liked to change her menstruation products once every 10 minutes.

I feel naked.

Odds are you definitely forgot something, whether it was that pack of stale gum that you've been transferring between purses for the last month, or that chapstick you've had for four years.

It really does though.

Twitter | @lovelyjess @hannah_may21

I have never felt as criminal as I do when I'm calling my boss to arrange for a sick day.

And even though I know I'm sick enough to justify staying home, I still end up coughing and sniffling because we really gotta sell my legitimate illness.