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.
Lots of people have prayed for my downfall. You’re just going to have to get in line, mom.
Look, I just feel like I shouldn’t have to bend over backward to get an exorcism.