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The cashier seemed to appreciate that I bagged my own groceries until I unpacked them all and said, "That's how I want you to do it."
I'll not only eat at a restaurant alone, I'll hang a banner that says "Happy Birthday" and stare at the door all night.
Weird when someone vanishes from your Facebook feed for 3 years then suddenly reemerges with the results of a "Which Muppet Are You?" quiz.
I don't think my neighbor knows my rule about not interacting unless we're both pointing at the same tornado.
If your 5-year-old hasn't already invented a technology that redefines how we consume media, you can gently place him in the garbage.
For me, the hardest part of the driving test was escaping before the car filled with ocean water.
I don't get it. I made eye contact, I made her laugh, I listened, I said her head looked like an Easter Island monolith, I—ah, there it is.
Most yogurt places will let you fill a CPR torso you bring from home.
All the worst people find their voice.
My ex-girlfriend did this thing where all the gumballs in her transparent plastic head holy shit I just realized something.
"Hey, nice to meet you! I'm essentially a labyrinth of inhibitions with no exit. Can I get you a drink?"
I'm the guy who goes to the farmers' market and walks away with nothing but an oversized cookie.
I told the Gap cashier I wanted the receipt halfway between me and the bag, in limbo, moving but never arriving.
Thanks for the "serious tweet" warning. Had a moment to steady myself.
I realized my apartment had a bug problem when I saw a millipede on a throne holding a thousand scepters.
I was like, "Ten bucks for a soda and a popcorn?! You must be a low wage-earner who has no control over these things!"
When you're accused of buying someone a gift last-minute at Walgreens, don't reveal you actually went to Walgreens a month ago.
Guy near me on the plane remarked that "they sure don't make stewardesses like they used to." Problem is, society doesn't owe you a boner.
I wrote BROKEN on a box of perfectly intact dishes just so the movers could feel like magicians.
Hate when my server waits until my mouth is full before swooping in and asking, "What regret will haunt you until the day you die?"
Senior editor, The Onion. Former writer/producer, Adult Swim. New Yorker, McSweeney's contributor. Coauthor, Oh, the Humanity; Our Bodies, Our Junk.
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