“I may have to take you up on that,” I say to a person I will never speak to again.
Detective: I need to dust for prints, but I can’t find my kit.
Me, eating Cheetos: Here’s a wild idea…
Spanish Government: Anything further to report?
Shakira: No.
Shakira’s hips: YES!
I want my funeral to have invitations with RSVP requests so my introvert friends can decline but still feel good about being invited.
“Don’t ask.”
Oh. I wasn’t even listening.
Oh, you’re a witch? Name three children you’ve eaten.
The newest Teenage Mutant Ninja Jurtle: Thiccelangelo.
White guy in horror movie: I think we should split up.
Me, antisocial: Solid move, Thad.
Look, I just feel like I shouldn’t have to bend over backward to get an exorcism.
Me: Could I trouble you for a knife?
Waiter, knowing that all they have is 10,000 spoons: I have some inexplicably bad news.
Mom in the 90’s: We need to get you a light coat and warm pants for fall.
Me, showing up to school the next day:
Gordon Ramsay: Can you explain to me why this kitchen is so ghastly? Do you ever even clean?!
Manager: I have an elite cleaning team working tirelessly in this restaurant.
Cat on Roomba: *rolls by making unbroken eye contact*
M: …ignore that.
“Don’t be a stranger,” I say, having already forgotten the name of the person I’m talking to.
Me, whispering to myself: When it’s time to party, we will always party hard.
“If that isn’t doing it for you, just give it a little smack. On the bottom. Harder. Little harder. Almost there.”
– The waiter explaining to me how to get ketchup out of the bottle.