Once, I tried to teach my pet rock to fetch. It just sat there, reflecting on its own existence... and possibly wondering why it was friends with me.
I made a sandwich. The sandwich tasted like regret, which ironically is the same filling as my last few attempts at relationships.
Wouldn't life be easier if it came with an instruction manual? You know, something like “How to Avoid Awkward Silences: Step 1, Just Leave.”
There’s a 52% chance that when I trip over nothing, the nothing is laughing. Maybe I should start tripping over things that actually have substance.
Did you hear about the claustrophobic astronaut? He just needed a little space... or perhaps he should consider a career in accounting for a less 'out of this world' experience.
If life offers you lemonade, pretend it’s coffee, recite Shakespeare, and demand the universe respect your caffeination preference.