Co-worker: I completed the project ahead of schedule with this simple hack

Me: I told you, I’d rather you didn’t refer to me that way

Moody sky battle

Go on moon. You show that cocky, overbearing bastard. If only for a little while.

Why call them Meta glasses, not Suspectacles?

Call corporate social media De Beers the way it profits off your engagement

Sorry I called your chickens egg-ass motherfuckers

Street smart (can almost-consistently identify traffic lights and bicycles)

Yeah, get out there, touch grass, talk to strangers about piss and Linux

Leaving a whole tuna in your bed as a warning not to forget about omega-3 fatty acids

Admittedly, I did just go down to the Barras market in Glasgow and start shouting

Lacklustre response to the IPO on my Fediverse account sends shockwaves through the market

Astronomers confirm that moon now has rockets stuck in both eyes.

Carefully building up my post history here as evidence for my defence when I eventually commit a crime that involves being really funny.

So you make these AI things work by repeatedly giving them prompts? They’re like a floundering improv group?

Animated public health campaign mascot punk band, The Sex Pimples

Your four-digit reactivation code will be communicated to you obliquely in a dream

In case you’ve been seeing lots of bad posts on my account, those actually escaped containment, so they are, in fact, fiendishly clever

The Old Gigafactory definitely sounds like something future kids play in the ruins of.

Occasionally glancing up from my phone, for inspiration.

Petitioning to have the anxious attachment style renamed The Limpet of Love