My therapist told me I can ask him anything I want. So I asked him, ‘How does my lack of progress make you feel?’
“Four more years! Four more years! Four more years!” The parole board chants, as I enter my hearing. This was not a good sign.
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Grim Reaper: You know why I’m here.
Me: Heavy drinking? Unhealthy diet? Texting and driving?
GR: You should’ve forwarded that chain email.
How come when my kid wants to show me something, she has to place it directly inside my cornea?
Do we want 2020 to turn 21 and be able to drink?
I should probably do some housework before they try to film the next Febreeze commercial here.
You can tell Tim Horton’s is a Canadian franchise, because my donut just apologized for making me fat.
Doctor, seeing scratch on my arm: oh geez, do you have a cat?
Me: …a daughter.
Who cares about throwing stones? How do people in glass houses hide when somebody knocks on the door?
Nope. Not gonna follow anyone whose name is upside down. I got enough problems.
[Folding my wife’s laundry after 7 years]
Pile 1 – I have folded these correctly
Pile 2 – I think I have folded these correctly
Pile 3 – I have no idea how to fold these
Pile 4 – I don’t even know what these are