Date: So what do you do?
Me: I’m a script editor.
Me: Are you any good?
Me: No.
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I like to believe the Death Star was originally built for space billionaire gender reveal parties
Hate when you’re trying to take a nap and the dentist is all “Please open your mouth.”
[last supper]
“Tonight, one of you will betray me for 20 pieces of silver.”
“30.”
“Sorry Judas?”
[sips wine]
“I didn’t say anything.”
Them: Why are you late?
Me: I’m not allowed to run over cyclists.
Ah yes let me just fashion a mask out of a bandana. First I’ll head over to the bandana drawer in my dresser, where I keep my myriad bandanas.
Whenever I see a couple sitting on the same side of a restaurant booth I like to imagine they’re on a double date with ghosts
Date: What do you do?
Me: I’m a cleptozoologist
Date: That’s interest…wait, what??
Me: *is already stealing lobsters from the tank*
Remember when that really cute guy held the door for you at the book store? He doesn’t.
*tries to discreetly wipe up my spilled drink with your cat*
[physicist excited about a misprinted real estate flyer]
“Honey, check this out! Four mathrooms!”
When there were a lot footprints in the sand, that was a bunch of jesus’s chasing you
Whenever I start to feel old, I just remind myself I’m still young enough to play a teenager on Beverly Hills 90210.
Her: I’d love to be a kept woman.
Me: [trying to impress] I happen to have a basement I use for keeping women.
This summer, West asked, point blank: “Dad, is Santa real? Tell me the truth.” And I told him & said he could now help carry the flame of Christmas magic for younger kids. He seemed proud. Last night he put it to use. He said, “Give me ice cream or I’ll tell maison about Santa.”
WIFE: Wanna split the last slice of pizza?
ME: Nah, you take it
KING SOLOMON (entering dramatically): You, sir, are the pizza’s real mother
You don’t want grapes on your cookie? What if I told you the grapes were crazy old?
Why do we call them “restrictions,” anyway? Do you look at a life-jacket and think “there’s my drowning restriction”?
Bad comedy:
“Gonorrhea, but not forgottenorrhea. Am I right?”
*crickets*
“Jeez, y’all sure know how to avoid the clap. Am I right folks?”
*workers slide massive stone block into place entombing me alive*
me: *finally starting to wonder if this might be a pyramid scheme*
PC: You quit improperly.
ME: You froze.
PC: Next time quit properly.
ME: I didn’t quit.
PC: You lost your data.
ME: YOU lost my data.
PC: Would you like to send a report to Microsoft?
ME: That you fucked up?
PC: That’s not how it’ll read.
ME *reboots
PC: YOU SHUT DOWN IMPROPERLY.
Her: I’m really into eating clean.
Me: (trying to impress her) I also use many napkins.
There is no doubt in my mind, I would trade my ovaries for another liver.
Me: I’m terrified of random letters
Therapist: You are?
Me: (Screams)
Therapist: I see
Me: (Scream intensifies)
“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.
“Ho ho oh my God I can’t stop giggling!” -Santa Claus, after eating cookies in homes across Canada
The first rule of Oedipus Club: mum’s the word.
Ok parents who have really clean houses, do you have outdoor pets and outdoor kids? How does this work?
[goes to museum of fine art]
“Just how fine can this art be, anyway”
[sees a vase in a thong]
“oh damn”
Me: *pressed against glass* they can’t keep us apart, they can’t deny our love, you’re my lobster
Aquarium owner: *into walkie talkie* security
Me: *being dragged away* WAIT FOR ME LEONARDO DA PINCHI
Step 1:Establish a medical history of “sleep walking”
Step 2. Murder your neighbor who mows their lawn at 6am
Step 3: Return to bed