Editor’s Note: Every couple weeks, we roll out Midweek Musings. Bad one-liners that are actually (sadly) rejected column ideas. We apologize in advance for the three minutes you’ll never get back.
I think credit bureaus should be in charge of writing people’s obits. That way we can find out who they really were.
Unlike in the movies, I always read letters in my own voice. Maybe that’s why I don’t get any in the mail.
Fleetwood Mac would be a really good name for a consignment shop selling high-end women’s fashions online for those who are 55-plus. Too bad it’s already the name of some band.
Whenever I see pictures of people in their skiing or golf outfits I think, man, money can’t buy taste but it sure can buy a lot of bright shit.
I don’t watch zombie movies. I take public transit instead.
I must be getting older because I’ve started to think the key ingredient to every good bathroom selfie is a clean countertop.
Why can’t I ever find my GPS watch?
Has anyone ever done a study about how the older men get the longer they wander around naked in the locker room?
I think a good campaign to help bring back cigarettes would be someone saying, “I used to be a quitter, until I started smoking.”
My friend recently showed me this thing called Google. Immediately, I thought: so THAT’s where they keep all the porn.
Did the General Lee have cupholders? If not. Coffee everywhere.
Just once I’d like to see a Sesame Street-style segment at the end of The Bachelor that clarifies, “This episode was sponsored by the words ‘journey’ and ‘connection’ and the phrase ‘…at the end of the day.'”
I still can’t believe they got away with naming a cartoon character Woody Woodpecker.
I’m pretty sure Anthony Hopkins’ impersonation of Nixon is worse than my impersonation of Nixon.
Too bad every career doesn’t give you the option to just do your job as a duet after you’ve run out of creative energy.
Every time I think how advanced technology is, I remind myself about shoelaces.
I was going to go see Britney Spears in Vegas till I realized I have no desire to see her outside of Vegas.
I’d like to read that someone died at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Only then would I think, finally someone got his money’s worth.
If dogs were on Facebook would there be comments like this on ultrasound posts: “Seven! Oh my – go girl.” “LOL — yes, but we’re giving four to good homes and two to neglectful families. We’re only keeping one :(”
I bet the guys in U2 hate having to hear U2 songs even more than you do, but at least they’re getting paid for it.
When I’m in line at Starbucks, I think, somewhere, right now, there’s some guy in line at another Starbucks thinking about a guy standing in line at Starbucks.
I want to walk over to a Bachelorette Party and say, “She knows she’s marrying a dude, right?”
I’ve had a lot of pretty incredible ideas in my day. But I’m pretty sure: Kenny Loggins’ Celebrity Bikini Tennis Tournament is the best of all.
I used to ride my bike to work. Then I got tired of doing something I love to arrive at a place I hate.
I’m glad insurance companies can afford to hire talking animals as their spokesmen. Otherwise, I’d probably think the whole thing is a scam.
There was a band called Climax and their hit was ‘Precious and Few’. Ironically, it was an all-male group.
There are times I purposefully eat, text and drive all at once. That way, at that moment, at least I know I’m the biggest asshole on the face of the Earth.
Do strippers have a hard time riding in subway cars and not getting tips?
One day I’m going to go to a party with no shirt, continually raise my hand in the air and yell “whooo” for no reason and spill my entire drink on the kitchen floor every three minutes. The next day, I’ll call the host to apologize and say, “Sorry, I thought you lived on a boat.”
We all know March Madness cuts mightily into productivity. But why has there never been a study about how much basketball is missed in March because of work?
I wonder what scenario marketers thought of when they said, this guy will want to eat a salad and be at a McDonald’s at the same time.
When my father used to say, “How many times do I have to tell you?!” I used to think, “Um, at least one more.”
A friend of mine recently said his child is “very good at hide-and-seek.” I instantly felt sad for his loss.