Why does every press feel like it’s going to crush my windpipe?

The weather channel says it’s raining right now, but my window disagrees.

The year of a creative challenge every week was too much of a time commitment for me. New Year Resolution fail.

My favorite phrases today: “Heroic nudity” and “reluctant sexual partner.”

In movies, you sometimes see happy revelations that turn horrible things into good things all along. In life it’s usually the reverse.

My calendar has an alarm for my birthday every year. Repeat: Annually on May 29. Start: May 29, 1985. End: May 29, 2016.

My calendar reminds me of my birthday every year. I’m thankful for this: it gives me time to get myself something nice.

I want to start a journal called “the Scientific Community” so that when we accept submissions, it fucks with journalists.

If I worked for Nature, I’d try to be witty in my correspondence: “Your paper, unfortunately, is not fit for Nature.”

Getting rejected from Science magazine must suck. “We’re sorry, your paper was not appropriate for Science.”

So Google Buzz and Google Wave suck, but why don’t more people mock Google Phonebook? Or… any online phone book, really.

I have now been vaccinated against the flu. Also, my math abilities have skyrocketed and social skills plummeted.

I was told the soporific in NyQuil was alcohol. That doesn’t seem fun.

Watching (500) Days of Summer on repeat. Nice. Different. Heart-wrenching.

Got chills and coughing up the consumption. I feel like death only with less fashion sense.

I need to keep me away from myself. That guy is such a loser.

We’re going on a road trip. Across the world! Except we’re only going to one place. And we’re flying there. And you pay

“I just need a chick to get over that hump.” -Daniel