I have a rare condition that makes me incapable of understanding puns. It's a real play on words.

I like my coffee like I like my jokes: dark and bitter.

I asked my computer why it was making so many dad jokes. It said it couldn't help it, it had a 'dadjacent' processor.

I told my therapist that I'm having thoughts of becoming a mime. He hasn't said a word since.

My therapist told me I have trouble interpreting social cues. I think she's hitting on me.

Sure, I could be more positive, if that's what you want.

Every day is a gift. But some days are more like that ugly sweater from your aunt.

Life is short. Especially on Mondays.

I'm not a pessimist, I'm just fluent in the language of reality.

Sure, I'll get right on that. Just as soon as pigs fly.

I'm not great at advice, can I interest you in a sarcastic comment instead?

I'm not ignoring you, I'm just placing you on hold.

I'm sorry, are my eye rolls distracting you?

Am I confused? Maybe. Do I care? Not really.

Please, tell me more about how your new diet is going to change your life.

I love it when someone asks for my opinion and then completely ignores it.

Isn't it wonderful how every time I try to eat healthy, chocolate magically appears in front of me?

Sure, I'll go out of my way to help you with something you could've easily done yourself.

Who needs sleep when you can spend the whole night tossing and turning?

It's always a blast when someone points out a typo in an email I sent hours ago.

I can't wait to spend an hour looking for something I just had in my hand a minute ago.