Morning

This morning I saw Leonardo DiCaprio driving an old Mercedes on the street next to my apartment. He was wearing a do-rag and looking at his phone. A woman in a Prius behind him honked.

If there were a button that would blow up every leaf blower and every person attached to one, I would press it without hesitation.

One of the things I’m looking most forward to about the apocalypse is being able to park in front of fire hydrants.

The sponges in the kitchen at work smell like mildew, so now my hands smell like mildew.

A surprising number of adults leave their dirty dishes in the sink here at work. I’m thinking of quitting.

The ant crawling on the urinal this morning misjudged both my aim and my scruples against peeing on the rim of a public urinal.

Muffins are the high-end escorts of fattening breakfast foods; donuts are the 2 a.m. street-walkers.

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