You wrote a list. You had a plan. You were going to be the kind of person who meal preps and eats vegetables. Somehow you're now home with three bags of chips and no actual dinner ingredients.
Apr 23, 2026
You walked in for one simple screw. You're leaving with seventeen items, none of which are the screw you came for, and a growing suspicion that hardware stores exist in a different dimension where logic goes to die.
Apr 02, 2026
You've been sitting in the same spot for three weeks straight, and now some monster has the audacity to claim it like they own the place. Time to have a completely normal and proportional reaction to this devastating betrayal.
Mar 20, 2026
We've all been there: someone mentions a popular show and instead of admitting ignorance, you confidently nod along like you've been following it religiously. What follows is an elaborate performance that would make Broadway jealous.
Mar 19, 2026
We've all been there: trapped in a conversation about something everyone else seems to understand perfectly while you're frantically nodding along like a dashboard bobblehead. Here's your survival guide to the ancient art of confident cluelessness.
Mar 17, 2026
The self-checkout machine has one job and unlimited suspicion about your ability to do yours. This is the story of humanity versus technology in the produce aisle, where everyone loses.
Mar 14, 2026
Your brain has a foolproof plan for responsible behavior. Your actual behavior has other ideas entirely. The eternal comedy of knowing exactly what you should do and then watching yourself do literally anything else.
Mar 14, 2026
You fill your cart with ingredients for elaborate meals you'll definitely cook this week. Two hours later, you're on DoorDash wondering how quinoa and ambition turned into Thai takeout so quickly.
Mar 14, 2026
That gym membership isn't just a recurring charge — it's a monthly investment in the person you're definitely going to become. Any day now. Probably starting Monday.
Mar 14, 2026
Five friends. Forty minutes. Zero consensus. You end up at a place nobody suggested, eating food nobody wanted, all while silently agreeing this will never happen again—right before making plans for next weekend.
Mar 13, 2026
You two are absolutely going to get that coffee. You have been going to get that coffee for the better part of a presidential term. The coffee does not exist, but the friendship — technically — does.
Mar 13, 2026
There is a social contract governing the shared workplace kitchen. It is detailed, it is serious, and it has never been written down anywhere. You are expected to know it anyway. You do not know it.
Mar 13, 2026