So let's just end this whole dog-and-pony show and admit that I've cracked your little code

If I sort the products on your website by price, and then you throw in one product that says "Add to cart to see price," but that product is between two products that show the price, let's cut the shit, I know what that price is

My doctor: So how have you been feeling?

Me:

"I threw in some new underwear to help with the smell, but it seems to be making it worse!"

(My neighbor steps down from his ladder to admire the painstakingly intricate shrub sculpture of a phoenix rising from the ashes that he'll be entering into an international shrub contest)

Me, yelling from over our shared fence in the distance: "Hey, Neil! What is that? Like a duck or something?"

(I get momentarily distracted from being the divinely-chosen scribe for a new sacred text and start looking out the window for a second)

A booming disembodied voice: "Return. To. THE TEXT."

Me: "Oh, right, right. The sacred text. Sorry."

I thought that group of teens at the beach was being mean to me, but maybe they were just commenting on the color of my jeans

I usually don't leave bad reviews, but these pancakes were terrible

Donna Summer: I want some hot stuff, baby, tonight.

Waiter: I'm sorry, but we only have cold stuff. The kitchen closes at 10.

My malaise has been working its way into my erotic tapestries and my clients are starting to notice.

Very limited produce section at my local grocery store today

I'm filling out a form and it wants the name of my primary care physician. Sorry, form. I'm not a child or a millionaire.

You: The average American eats a credit card worth of microplastics every month

(I inconspicuously put a lid on my huge, simmering pot full of hundreds of credit cards while trying to gauge your opinion on the correct amount we should eat)

Me: Wow, that seems like... too much?

I'm pitching my new show to HGTV today. It's called, "Move It Or Lose It" and it's about potential homebuyers who need to get out of my way or I'll bump into them.

They only let you use your own oxygen in the JP Morgan Chase pavilion, and you have to sign a mandatory arbitration clause to go there

I want to publicly apologize for my behavior during a heated argument in my Cantaloupe/Honeydew Facebook group today. Despite differing opinions on optimal germination temperature, I regret telling Diane to, "Eat my ass with a melon baller." It was unprofessional and I'm sorry.

I think I might catch a football game down at Lincoln Financial Field, eat a Bank of America hot dog, maybe take a few Wells Fargo breaths

Detective: Can you describe the suspect?

Me: He looked like he was in his hair's mouth

Next on House Hunters: Psychology Edition

Young professional Ann wants a 2-bedroom bungalow in the suburbs. But her mom Joan has attachment disorder, causing enmeshment. Ann would like to stick to her $400k budget, but Joan is unable to see her as a separate adult capable of decision-making.

My dog's DNA test results came back today. Turns out he's from Arkansas. I thought it would have some kind of breakdown of his different breeds, but nope. It just says he's from Fayetteville.

I have an important announcement: Although I will retain my title as the rootinest cowboy this side of the Mississippi, I regret to inform you that I've been resoundingly supplanted as the tootinest

Whoa, whoa, whoa. In layman's terms, please.

I would describe my body as Christian Bale trying to win an Oscar

*pumping the knockoff Coffee Mate creamer directly into my mouth in the office break room, while everyone else is getting their coffee*

"Mmmm! Is this vanilla from France?"

I was once in a circle of people, talking about the comedy festival we just watched, when Todd Barry walked up, stood next to me for a couple of minutes, then walked away

Prove it

Our two pictures are gonna be used as proof of voter fraud

*Yelling to my wife from another room*

Hey, honey! The guy who invented (I put my tiny reading glasses on the very end of my nose and hold my phone out to full arms' length) "drinking water" died today!

(I walk onto an elevator with Francis Ford Coppola and we stare straight ahead in silence for the first 45 seconds before I work up my nerve to speak)

Me: So... just how big is this lopolis anyway?

City councilman: And that concludes the proposal portion of our high-speed rail meeting. We will now be taking questions. Yes, sir, you in the back.

Me, twirling my handlebar mustache: Will this rail, hypothetically, be able to support, oh I don't know, let's say, an average-sized damsel?