Learning how to eat a bowl of soup while skydiving is simple. Open mouth. Pour. Pray. That’s the whole technique, and it works about as well as a screen door on a submarine. Because the second you exit that plane, gravity and a bowl of minestrone form a labor union, and their only demand is…
Aunt Brenda keeps mailing you single AA batteries because, in her beautiful chaos-soaked brain, one loose battery counts as a complete and thoughtful gift. There is no card. There is no note. There is one naked Duracell rolling around a padded envelope like a tiny metal hostage. She is not sending you power. She is…
The itch is democratic. It arrives without warning, without mercy, and almost always the exact second a stranger makes eye contact. Down there. Your crotch does not read the room. It never has. Somewhere right now, a fully grown adult is at war with their own underwear in public view. They are losing that war…
Why foaming at the mouth isn’t always a bad sign comes down to one unsexy truth: most of the time, your mouth is just doing a bubble impression. Sure, sometimes the foam means a seizure or an overdose, and those genuine emergencies are coming up. But far more often it means you brushed your teeth…
The worst college degrees to fake on a resume are the ones where somebody eventually hands you the actual job. That’s the whole filter. A fake philosophy degree never gets tested. Nobody alive can prove your Kant take is wrong. A fake nursing degree gets tested the second a stranger codes in front of you…
Skydiving tips for blind people start with one beautiful truth: you get to skip the single most terrifying part of the jump. That part is looking at the ground. Sighted jumpers spend the whole plane ride staring at the earth shrinking into a Google Maps screenshot, slowly leaking sweat through their crotch. You, meanwhile, are…
