[watching murder documentary]
Her: That’s not how I would have done it.
Me: *never sleeps again*
When we go back to in-person office meetings, I’m going to start out by soundlessly moving my lips until people yell at me, just for continuity.
Utility company website: Are you a bot?
Me: No, but if there are bots trying to pay my utility bills, mind your own business.
[6 months after the pandemic ends]
Me: Oh, so THAT’s how you unmute yourself on Zoom.
Seeing men with their noses sticking out over their masks makes me hope I never see how they wear swim trunks.
Me: [trying to be smooth] Did it hurt?
Her: Excuse me?
Me: When you fell from heaven?
Her: Dude, I’m just here to get my kids from school, like all these other parents.
Me: I may have misunderstood the term “pickup line.”
I’m extremely upset with myself for speeding, Officer. Giving me a ticket now would only delay the healing process.
Time machine jokes are offensive to me. A time machine killed my great-great-grandson.
It still hurts that my parents never came to any of my violin recitals. I never bought their flimsy excuses, like “You’ve never had any lessons” and “You don’t even have a violin” and “That’s a banjo and a stick.”
“Found another body, sheriff. Just like the others, she didn’t forward the letter to 10 friends.”
-from The Texas Chain Letter Massacre