“I submitted a poem last night to The New Yorker. They said it can take up to three months to hear back. I got rejected immediately.”

“And the next morning, after a night of passionate sex, I said those three little words I knew she’d been waiting to hear: woman, I’m hungry.”

“I got hit on at the bar last night, and this morning I have a black eye. Sometimes you can be so sexy that you offend, I guess.”

“I picked up a new language a few months ago. It was just laying on the ground, dirty, so I scooped it up and popped it in my mouth.”

“I went on a date last night and things went well. If you must know, I got lucky. I found a four-leaf clover.”

“The answer is three, I said as I held up three fingers—my middle through my pinky—and I formed a loop with my index finger and my thumb, which also shapes the universal sign for “asshole.” A verbal response, backed up by its unspoken reflection, with a hidden hand gesture buried in the sub context.”

“Last night I placed a handwritten note on the front door of my neighbor’s house that said, “Sorry, we’re closed. Come back tomorrow after 9 am.” I wouldn’t have done it had I known he’d knock on my door and ask to spend the night because he thought I was open.
”