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I wrote BROKEN on a box of perfectly intact dishes just so the movers could feel like magicians.
Gmail needs a feature where you can not only undo a sent message but undo being the kind of person who wrote it in the first place.
People might roll their eyes at my vanilla sexual tastes until they realize "vanilla" is short for Van Morrison-impersonating gorilla.
No one has to live-tweet the Golden Globes. It doesn't have to happen. Plenty of time. I repeat: It does not have to happen.
Attention choking victims: I'll definitely try to save you, but as an introvert, I need an hour or so to "warm up" to a new person.
Always a bummer when a woman has a picture of her niece in her online profile because I am not ready to uncle some other guy's kid.
The smell on this subway can only be described as never-washed Kinison beret.
I am 100 percent certain that someone meeting me for the first time can tell I only own two forks.
I feel weird gawking at car crashes, so I just walk around the wreckage like I'm looking for my Frisbee.
"So help me, if you pack animals chip a single wing feather on a single ceramic angel..." -- first words the movers heard out of my mouth.
Truth be told, I spent jury duty figuring out what eight other people's tickle boundaries were.
But what if your friends are even happier than they seem on Facebook and are toning it down to spare you and your heartbreaking life?
I will pay $50,000 for a video of Jaden Smith telling his father that he wants to be a social worker.
Finished Freaks and Geeks. It's overrated junk. One season was one too many.
Kidding! But now you know what a murder impulse feels like.
I got soup instead of the salad I ordered, and now I know exactly how a patient feels when the surgeon amputates the wrong leg.
I had 12 items in the 12 items or less express lane, but I put one back because it just felt like playing with fire.
If you poke the Pillsbury Doughboy anywhere else, he bends your finger back till it snaps.
Make the front desk nervous by checking in with 10 buckets of glue and 200 feet of wallpaper.
Right when my girlfriend discovers the ring in the salsa bowl, I signal for the mariachi band to come over and play Aerosmith's "Pink."
My erotic novel is 186 pages of a man worrying that condoms, while very effective, are not 100 percent effective.
Senior editor, The Onion. Former writer, Adult http://Swim.com. New Yorker, McSweeney's contributor. Coauthor, Oh, the Humanity; Our Bodies, Our Junk.
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