God, I was so happy when I was 18. I wasn’t at the time, but in retrospect I was.

If you wish me a happy Thanksgiving, don’t be surprised if I whip out a ziplock bag and ask you to bring me home some leftovers.

Husband and I were blissfully happy for 25 years. Then we met.

Some people call me crazy. I prefer the term happy with a twist.

I’m a simple person. All I need in life to be happy is to have everything go my way and work out how I want it to.

People singing Happy Birthday to you feels like a real-life unskippable ad.

The only team building exercise we had when I started working was called “Happy Hour.”

If you’re a mad scientist, put a note in your laboratory reminding you to sometimes be a happy scientist.

I’m starting to think that the secret to having a happy life is avoiding people.

If I don’t text you saying Happy New Year, we still gang, I’m just lazy.

I was really happy about it being Friday until I realized it was only Wednesday.

As long as I can dip something in something, I’m happy.

Happy to report that “what time is it/time for you to get a watch” is still being used by the youths.

Is it stupid and irresponsible? Yes. Will it make me happy? Also yes.

Might start signing off emails with ‘well, I hope you’re happy’

People acting all happy and energized first thing in the morning. Chill out! You aren’t a Teletubby.

Out of sheer boredom, I opened the front door and rang the doorbell. I was so happy.

Happy return of “yes of course it’s bedtime, see how dark it is outside” to all parents who celebrate.

I think Cinderella should have lived a happy life with all her animal friends rather than settle for a man who had her try on a shoe because he didn’t recognize her without makeup.