Being a woman is trying to guess what the hell is going on with your body three times a week.

The first guy to clap after seeing something cool must have been like “what the hell am I doing?”

I’ve never been to hell, but I once forgot to buy batteries for the toys on Christmas morning. The sound is still ringing in my ears.

Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company.

Telling an introvert to go to a party is like telling a saint to go to Hell.

Can’t stand British posts on my timeline. β€œI bought this for four squids and a halfpenny!” What the hell are you talking about?

Being an adult is crazy. Because what the hell is going on?

Starting the second half of your sandwich is like “hell yeah, baby, let’s run it back!”

I think if you ask Kanye for a million at the right time, he’ll give it to you.

This too shall pass, but what the hell?

Why the hell is my laundry bin always full? I’m not even going anywhere.

Why the hell is it called the restroom? I am fighting for my life in here.

There are so many people going to hell. I’m thinking of investing in some property there.

I’m starting to think the real hell is just being stuck in an infinite loop of self-doubt and bad life choices.

Never signed up for a 401k cause there’s no way in hell I can run that far.

I love cutting off Teslas. Like you may not let me merge over but your car sure as hell will.

Does my special place in hell have wi-fi?

I generally don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I’m really good at it.

Since the beginning of time itself, people have been wondering, what the hell is going on?

Weekends are a scam, you spend one day exhausted and the other day anxious. Like, what the hell was that?