At 14 I asked my dad about a tattoo. He said ok as long as I got it someplace that doesn’t matter. So I got it in Detroit.

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[at the club]

Me: …everyone seemed to be just fine with Superman wearing red knee high boots

Her: Just take them off


I’ve seen your area rug, and you sir are not single.


ME: Not gonna make it in today. I hurt my updog.
BOSS: What’s updog?
ME: Nothing much, prolly just gonna take a nap.


No, Grandma. Still not married; but the lady in the Popeye’s Chicken commercials keeps calling me “Honey” so we’ll see where that goes.


I am furious that some are willfully misreading my column, “Let’s Feed Babies to the Sharks”, as an endorsement of feeding babies to sharks. To be clear: I was merely representing the entirely legitimate view many have that some babies – let’s be honest – should be fed to sharks.


Probably one of the hardest things for Pinocchio to pull off was complimenting his friend’s experimental theater piece.


Army guy: sniper in the clock tower, 6 o’clock
Me [seeing the time on the clock tower says 5 o’clock]: we’ll worry about him in an hour then


*At a party*

STRANGER: Are you that guy who brags about weird shit?

ME: No I’m the guy who takes the longest baths in the city.


The existence of egg nog presupposes the existence of other, more obscure nogs.