The full moon looked angry as it rose. Or perhaps it was just a phase.
Hieroglyphs, lately discovered scratched in a wall in Tutankhamun’s tomb: “You must be joking!! Can’t a pharaoh oversleep once like everyone else??”
Too late for coffee, too early for wine: the unhappy hour.
In my dreams I’m on Jeopardy! and they’re asking questions only about my family. The host says, “Aunt Mimi,” and I buzz in. “Who is Rob’s wife?” “Correct.” “Aunts for a thousand.”
Literary spin-offs I completed during the pandemic: “Journey to the Center of My Couch,” “One Trapped in the Cuckoo's Nest,” “Little House Wanted on the Prairie,” “Every Man is an Island.”
Who do I talk to about new punctuation for rhetorical questions? I mean, really?!
“This town ain’t big enough for the two of us,” said Tiny Tim. “I agree, and to be honest, I think that’s mostly my fault,” said Enormous Tim.
When I could travel in time, I would travel back to the moment I wrote the first word of this sentence and change it to “If.”
“Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” Juliet ponders after Romeo turned his phone location off after getting “drinks with the boys.”
Tell a man a joke and he laughs for a second. Teach a man a joke and someone else laughs for a second, later.
Groundhog Day means six more weeks of winter. Ground Beef Week means we’re eating like kings.
My first grade teacher was Mrs. Password.
You are not you're mistakes.
Hanging with art friends and repeatedly pointing at graffiti and shouting “Is THAT a Banksy?!” until they snap.
Anthropologists believe Bigfoot will remain hidden until he has finished his screenplay.
Magicians don’t retire, they become disillusioned.
No matter how well read you are, there’s always someone weller read.
I knew this failed sculpture—huge chip on his shoulder.
Non sequitur? I hardly know her.
It's not my fault I say dumb things. It's in my D&A.