Our refrigerator door is full of stuck-on notes, pictures, cartoons etc. that a sign in its center says “No Vacancy.”
If they’re not talking your head off, they’re texting your eyes out.
People no longer talk through their hat. They text through it.
If you can’t wait to give birth to an idea, go to a brain surgeon and have it Caesarean.
The neighbor kid hit a hole in one today. The hole was in one of my windows.
In a normal train of thought, what I’m thinking now would be the caboose.
Instead of flowing, the creative juices sometimes ebb.