Refreshing New Nightmares to Fret About Now That Voting is Over

If you met Idris Elba, you would disappoint him.

Hackers can mess up way more than your vote. I’m thumbing through your medical records now, and I don’t think dog ear drops are supposed to be used in that manner.

Ladies, some guy at work is calling you “strident” this very moment. You just smiled at him as he passed your cubicle on the way to his office.

Sudden Adult Death Syndrome is not a thing I just made up.

Thousands of new serial killers are probably taking notes from all these true crime podcasts. I know I am.

You still majored in the wrong thing in college. Voting cannot change that.

Have you listened to “Dr. Death”? Ha ha, how many of your doctors have you found on the internet? There, there, it’s okay. Probably none of them graduated from Tallahassee Swamps Medical Establishment & Vacuum Repair.

Constance Wu will never get paid enough.

Take a moment to consider the sheer size of our galaxy, and your place in it. How far apart we are from the next star. How cold the nothingness blows between these swimming points of light. Empty. Black. Do this until you’re lightheaded, and then return to this list.

No, you didn’t lock the door today.

Did you know fire can be invisible? Like the raise they promised you.

All the nerves in your body are wispy, fine tendrils that can get squished like overcooked spaghetti from a flying frisbee tossed by Chad.

Googling “ways the world will end” yields 1,400,000,000 results. Whoops, 980,000 more were just added.

I’m sure she likes you. She says so all the time. Why would she lie?

Can you die if a spider leaps into your mouth? I haven’t looked it up, but the answer is yes.

Later in the week, you’ll have to place a phone call.

I’m sorry, but your favorite shirt doesn’t hide what you think it’s hiding.

Why are you itching that way?

It absolutely matters whether or not you buy organic fruit, but no one knows for sure which is rotting you slowly from the inside.

If the venomous animals on Australia ever learn to swim, we’ll never have to worry about anything again, because we’ll all briefly function as egg sacs and then explode.


Lucy Woodhull writes funny books full of feminism, sexy times, and general awesomeness. Follow here for more mostly funny stuff! Check out her novels, or friend her on Twitter, for she is needy like that.