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No illustration. Just the line that does the work.
DARTBOARD ON THE CEILING. UNCLEAR IF GOAL.
Dad's garage = emotional detox zone.
The hardest part of cycling is the front door.
Currently buffering my emotions.
Currently being lapped by a chatbot.
Currently Accepting Apologies from my Children.
Cupid still owes me money.
Cupid called — he's drunk again.
My cultural references peaked in 2009 and I am at peace with it.
Craft beer, craftier excuses.
Took the day off for a cough I have not yet developed.
Corporate peacock. All display. No substance.
Copilot was wrong. Loudly. About something I knew. We promoted it.
Won the argument. In the shower. The other person was not invited.
Confidence: faked daily.
Took away the coffee and discovered I am no one.
Christmas cheer on tap.
They loathe the content. Not because it's wrong. Because it's working.
Cheers to tax-deductible Hangovers.
I am certified in films you now study at university.
Cat hair: the glitter of my life.
Career Goals: Fewer Meetings, More Snacks.
Carbon footprint? I wear Sandals.
Can't fix stupid, but I can sedate it.
Air travel is finally back to its normal level of awful.
All my friends are tired. We thought we'd outgrow it. We were wrong.