When I get to somebody’s house, I text them, because knocking on doors is for poor people.

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Her: I’m leaving you

Me: Why though?

Her: You lie to me constantly

Me: Ha! You don’t just leave the man who invented the spatula!


All I’m saying is, the minute Canada starts refining its maple syrup reserves into weapons-grade Aunt Jemimium, we’re all French toast.


Boss: Where’s the progress report I asked u for
Me: I haven’t made any progress that’s my report

What I imagine it’d be like if I had a job


Him: Brunch tomorrow?
Me: No, I’ll be asleep.
Him: What time will you be awake?
Me: I don’t understand the question.


dad: where do you think you’re going

me: *caught applying for an art history degree* uh nowhere?


Break bad news to teens by talking on THEIR level.

ME [spinning on chair in daughter’s room]: Yo, turns out grandma’s heart is weak af.


Farmer Dad: Having a good party son?

Farmer Son: No. The music sucks.

FD: Well then-

FS: Don’t.

FD: Lettuce turnip the beet.


*I cycle off mt Rushmore and fall to my death but my bicycle lands on the end of Lincolns nose and makes a perfect pair of reading glasses*


When people say they did something “like a boss” I just picture them doing it fatter and with less hair


I miss being a baby and having milestones. No one cares if you’re an adult and can lift your head or roll over on a blanket.