Couldn’t find my keys so I retraced my steps back to when I was a piece of phosphorescent algae floating in the primordial sea, and yep there they were

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“This is the fourth lot of bacon to go missing this week. It can only mean one thing.”

“What’s that Sarge?”

“Someone’s building a pig.”


Whenever someone knocks on the door of a bathroom I’m in, I like to yell back at them to come back with a warrant.


[Heart: Tell her her eyes are windows into eternity, filled with fire…
Brain: Beacons, stars in a vast darkness]


toddler *banging his hammer on the coffee table*
me: What are you making?
toddler: Noise


Teacher: Write what you know.

Student: *writes “what you know.”*


[very obviously being hit on]
hahaha ok well, see you around

[4 days later, cutting open a cantaloupe]
wait a second


I think my downstairs neighbors are beginning to suspect I’m living in their attic.


I haven’t asked any of my coworkers what they’re doing for Thanksgiving bc I treat people the way I want to be treated.


I believe meat is murder, vegetables are burglary, bread is mail fraud and dairy is impersonating a police officer.