I once met a guy who said he was so tired of life that he wanted to become a book.

“Why a book?” I asked.

“Because,” he said, “people keep me on the shelf, rarely open me up, and when they do, it’s usually just to dust me off. Sounds like a peaceful retirement.”

I told him he was confusing a book with an antique vase. At least with a book, you get a chance to share your story, even if it’s just a bedtime tale to help someone fall asleep.

My friend asked me if I thought marriage was like a prison. I said, “No, marriage is more like a gym membership. You sign up with high hopes, spend a lot of time there at first, but eventually, you just pay for it without showing up.”

He laughed and said, “So, divorce is like canceling the membership, but you still have to pay the fee?”

“Exactly,” I replied, “and if you’re lucky, you get to keep the treadmill.”

—

I once heard a plant complain to a cow, “How come humans eat us without any guilt, but they feel bad about eating you?”

The cow chewed thoughtfully and said, “Well, when they eat us, they at least admit it’s for our meat. But you? They say they’re just trying to be healthy. It’s a tougher pill to swallow, being eaten under the guise of wellness.”

The plant sighed, “I guess we’re just the silent victims of the ‘clean eating’ movement.”

—

A man once told me he wanted to quit his job because it was killing him. I asked if he’d considered smoking instead, since at least with smoking, you get a break every hour, and it’s socially acceptable to do it in a group.

He looked at me like I was crazy and said, “But smoking causes cancer!”

I shrugged and said, “So does stress, and at least with smoking, you get to choose your brand.”