
I love writing because it combines my two favorite hobbies: sitting and self-doubt.
I love writing because it combines my two favorite hobbies: sitting and self-doubt.
A pack of coyotes shrieking outside your house at 11:59 PM is slightly less unsettling if you imagine one of them just won a new car.
Life is a constant balancing act between wondering why you weren’t invited to something and wondering how to get out of it.
No member of any family has the same interpretation of the sentence “We need to leave in ten minutes.”
I’d be fine with a ghost in the house if every time a message in blood appeared on the wall it was something helpful like YOUR KEYS ARE IN THE FRONT DOOR.
ME: Why can’t I sleep?
CUP OF COFFEE FROM 4 PM: I’ve put together a list of everyone who might be mad at you.
I’ve studied enough modern theater to know that inviting another couple over for dinner never ends well.
I hate cooking, but I am excited to debut my cookbook “Toast On A Paper Towel, 365 Ways.”
I want my house to be tidy enough so that if people stop by unannounced, it doesn’t look like I adopted a bear with a jug stuck on its head.
God returns to his desk with a midnight snack. He squints at a video feed of Earth. The plate of nachos falls to the floor in slow motion.