Humor

Well, I'm sorry guys, my detective skills only go so far.  I'm a beat reporter with an opinion column, ain't nobody looking to me for serious answers. 

It's a site comprised of reader submissions where they explain their nightmare interactions with the public. Think of all the worst Karens you've ever heard of, or shoppers who just refuse to read signs, people who holler at the cashier when their coupon is expired, you get it.

You can read signs, but you can't comprehend them. You know facts, but you can't recall them.

Is it just one maniacal genius that is trying to tell us something about life through pickles?

Cue more hand raising, what looks to be a heavy sigh and a "What can you do?" look from me.

WEE WOO WEE WOO Stranger Danger, my friend.

It stupefies him further that I don't want second degree burns in the dang shower.

Every year Gramma would be sure to go and get her free yard stick and those little paper fans you could bring to church.

I have a lot of thick, curly hair, and I just don't need to be reminded of that every time I'm trying to just live my life.

You'd think it would be easy to make a great grilled cheese sammitch, and you would never know just how insanely wrong you are.