Dopamine Soup

Adulthood is googling whether a smell can be structural.

The wine rack knows what the cleaner found behind the headboard. That is why it refuses to work when observed.

You are one unexpected parcel away from shaving your head in a Travelodge.

A background check is less useful than observing how long they keep a cracked phone screen.

You have not replied for six days. At this point the message is a historical document.

A rotisserie chicken is a handbag for people who have stopped pretending.

A ring light is currently illuminating the claim that Mercury retrograde deleted the spreadsheet. A discount code now exists.

The body keeps score. Mine has started adding service charges.

You can tell a lot about a person by how they pronounce chorizo after two drinks. Mostly whether they are a liar.

Cheese eaten over the sink has no calories because the body respects urgency.

Every office has a mug nobody owns and everybody fears.

You are one supermarket substitution away from owning seven chickens and one unresolved feud.

A message from our sponsor, a voicemail from an unknown mobile number: absolutely not.

Somebody online now believes the algorithm is suppressing their garden-centre content. They are answering comments from the bath.

The family role of a relative who brings Tupperware to funerals is currently being performed by a tub of Celebrations.

Your ex is probably rewriting history in a Notes app screenshot. This information should not improve your day, but it might.

A chihuahua wearing a suspended driving licence is technically a local authority.

The family group chat has wished the same dead relative happy birthday twice this year.

Nobody looks dignified putting a sock on while standing.

A man named Craig lied about understanding wine on a first date.

He swirled balsamic vinegar, said it had notes of oak, then drank enough to commit to the lie.

They married three years later because she needed to see how far this could go.

The phrase ‘weaponised cardigan’ has contaminated the rest of the sentence.

Your bladder can sleep through eight hours at home but panics the second the motorway sign says services 24 miles.

Never trust a charging cable that has a tiny red light that never stops judging. It knows which guest clogged the upstairs toilet.

Your manager saying ‘we are a family’ means Christmas will be unpaid and somebody is stealing milk.

If someone uses your good scissors on cardboard, it is legally a crisis.

Masculinity remains confident until confronted with a duvet cover with buttons, even after a stag do in Prague.

Nothing restores perspective faster than accidentally opening the front camera from below.

This afternoon’s unnecessary panic comes courtesy of a voicemail from an unknown mobile number.

Adulthood is having a favourite hob and refusing to explain yourself.

A jar of pesto can become dinner if you stop asking legal questions.

You are one forgotten password away from opening an Etsy shop for emotionally damaged mugs.

If one more app asks for a review, I am reviewing oxygen.

A ‘haha’ with no extra letters is not laughter. It is a locked door.