3-Minute Stand-Up Comedy Routine

(Walks on stage, looks around, shakes head.)
You ever wake up in the morning, stretch, take a deep breath... and immediately regret all your life choices?

I woke up today, my body made a noise I’ve never heard before. It wasn’t a crack, it wasn’t a pop… it was more like my bones whispered, “You did this.”

Aging is wild. When you’re a kid, you fall off a bike, scrape your knee, and just run it off. As an adult, I sleep slightly wrong, and now my neck is on strike for a week. Like, it doesn’t even negotiate. Just full-on protest mode.

And it’s not just the body. My patience has disappeared. I was in line at the grocery store, and the guy in front of me had, I kid you not, 19 coupons. That’s not a couponer; that’s a mathematician. He was doing long division at the register, carrying the one, solving for X… Sir, I am here for bread. I did not sign up for an SAT exam.

Speaking of the grocery store… why is it that no matter what I buy, the cashier always asks, "Do you need a bag?" Like, yes. I’m buying 17 things. You think I’m gonna carry them out like some kind of overachieving circus act? Balancing a watermelon on my shoulder, eggs under my chin?

And self-checkout? That’s just unpaid labor. I scanned three things, and the machine had the nerve to say, “Unexpected item in the bagging area.” First of all, you put the bag there. Second, don’t make me feel like I’m stealing when I clearly don’t have the coordination for crime.

Look, I know my limits. I’m not built for a life of crime. I can’t even jaywalk without looking both ways five times. Like, I’ll see an empty road and still be like, “Mmm… let me wait.” Meanwhile, some 80-year-old woman is just strolling past me like she owns the city. I saw a guy jaywalk in New York without even looking up from his phone. That’s next-level confidence. That’s a man who has made peace with whatever happens.

I respect it. I really do.

Anyway, thanks for listening to me complain. I hope all your bones stay silent tonight.

(Walks off stage.)

Here's a 3-minute stand-up routine:

Hey everyone! You know what's weird? How we all pretend we know what we're doing as adults. Like, I was at the grocery store the other day, standing in the produce section, just staring at avocados like I have any idea how to tell if they're ripe. Everyone does this little ritual where they squeeze them gently, nod thoughtfully, like "Ah yes, this one's telling me secrets." But we're all just guessing! I've bought exactly two types of avocados in my life: rocks and brown mush. There's no in-between.

And don't get me started on buying wine. I love watching people in wine shops, especially the ones trying to look sophisticated. They'll pick up a bottle, examine the label like they're solving a murder mystery. "Hmm, yes, notes of oak and... [squints at label] ...Mendoza region..." Meanwhile, my entire wine selection process is: "Ooh, pretty label! And it's on sale!" I once bought a wine because it had a cute dog on the label. Turned out to be terrible, but you know what? I deserved that. That's what I get for trusting a marketing team that thought, "You know what sells wine? Golden retrievers."

Speaking of pretending to be adults, can we talk about office small talk? Every Monday morning, it's the same conversation. "How was your weekend?" "Good, yours?" "Good." That's it. That's the whole thing. We're all living the same lie. Nobody's weekend was just "good." It was either "I binged an entire series in my pajamas and now I'm questioning all my life choices" or "I tried to assemble IKEA furniture and almost ended my marriage." But no, we stick to "good." Because Karen from accounting doesn't need to know that you spent Sunday googling "why does my houseplant hate me?"

And don't even get me started on trying to schedule anything with friends once you're over 30. It's like trying to coordinate a military operation. You send out a group text suggesting dinner, and suddenly everyone's checking three different calendars. "Let me see... I can do the third Thursday of next month, between 6:43 and 8:17 PM, but only if Mercury isn't in retrograde and my dog's yoga class gets cancelled." Remember when we were younger and could just say "Want to hang out?" and it would just... happen? Now I have to file a request in triplicate just to get coffee with someone.

But hey, at least we're all in this together, pretending we've got it figured out. And if anyone tells you they actually do have it figured out, they're either lying or they're trying to sell you something. Probably both.

Thank you, you've been great!

3-Minute Stand-Up Comedy Routine

Here's a 3-minute stand-up comedy routine that doesn't rely on puns:

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[walks on stage, adjusts microphone]

Hey everyone! Great to be here tonight. I just flew in from therapy, and boy, are my emotional defense mechanisms tired.

I've been trying to get in shape lately. My fitness goal is to be able to climb a flight of stairs without sounding like I'm auditioning for a horror movie. You know you're out of shape when people mistake your breathing for a obscene phone call.

I downloaded one of those fitness apps that counts your steps. After a week, mine sent me a notification that said, "Are you okay? Should we call someone?" Apparently "from the couch to the fridge" isn't considered a proper workout circuit.

My doctor told me I should start eating healthier. He suggested I try the Mediterranean diet. I thought that meant pizza and ice cream, because that's what I ate when I visited Italy. Turns out, there's more to it. Who knew?

Dating in your thirties is weird. People ask different questions now. It used to be "What's your sign?" Now it's "What's your credit score?" and "How's your relationship with your mother?" I once had someone ask about my retirement plan on a first date. I was like, "My what now? I'm still trying to figure out dinner for tomorrow."

I tried online dating. My profile said I enjoy long walks on the beach. That's technically true, if by "long walks" you mean "sitting in one spot" and by "beach" you mean "my living room watching beach documentaries on Netflix."

Speaking of Netflix, I finally understand what "Netflix and chill" means. It means watching three episodes of a show, falling asleep, waking up confused during episode seven, and then spending forty minutes trying to figure out what you missed. That's romance in 2023.

I have a cat now. Getting a pet as an adult is basically announcing to the world, "I can barely take care of myself, so I've decided to be responsible for another life." My cat judges me constantly. I'll be eating ice cream straight from the container at 3 AM, and she'll just stare at me like, "This is why you're single, Karen."

Anyway, that's my time! You've been great! Remember, if you enjoyed the show, my name is [your name]. If you didn't, I'm [name of another comedian]. Good night!

[exits stage]

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"Life in the Digital Age" - A 3-Minute Stand-up Routine

Hey everyone! Great to be here tonight. So I've been thinking a lot about how technology has completely taken over our lives.

You know what's crazy? We now have smart everything. Smart fridges, smart toilets... I got a smart mattress last month. It tracks my sleep patterns and sends me reports. Last week it sent me an email that just said "Please... see other mattresses." Not even my bed wants a committed relationship with me.

Dating apps are wild these days too. I signed up for one where you have to verify your identity with a government ID. I uploaded my driver's license photo, and the app rejected it saying, "This can't be you. The person in this photo looks like they've seen sunlight."

And don't get me started on those video calls with family. My grandmother got her first smartphone during the pandemic. Every call starts with ten minutes of looking at her ceiling fan, followed by her asking, "Can you see me?" while her face takes up the ENTIRE screen. I can count her pores! Then she'll turn the camera to show me something in her house, but it's moving so fast it looks like found footage from "The Blair Witch Project."

Everyone's obsessed with their screen time now. My friend showed me his weekly report - 9 hours a day! I was like, "That's terrible!" while quickly hiding my 11-hour average. At this point, my phone battery has a better work-life balance than I do.

Social media has us all living double lives. I'll post a photo captioned "Living my best life!" from a fancy restaurant, but what you don't see is me calculating if I can afford the appetizer while drinking the free water. And I spent 45 minutes arranging that food for the perfect shot. By the time I ate it, it was colder than my ex's heart.

The worst is when your phone dies in public. It's like losing a limb! I was at a coffee shop when my battery hit 1%. I started panicking like I was diffusing a bomb. "Does anyone have an iPhone charger?! This is an emergency!" A guy offered me his Android charger and I looked at him like he offered me a fax machine.

You know what's really sad? I realized recently that my most stable relationship is with my Wi-Fi router. We've been together for three years. Sure, it ghosts me sometimes for no reason, but don't they all?

Anyway, that's my time - gotta go check if my refrigerator posted on Instagram without my permission. You've been great! Thank you!

Stand-Up Comedy Routine: "Modern Life is a Joke (But Not the Pun Kind)"

[Opening with confident energy]
Hey, how’s everyone doing? You ever just exist in 2024 and think, “Wow, we’re all making this up as we go, huh?” Like, dating apps? Let’s start there. Swiping through people like we’re browsing Netflix for a horror movie we’ll regret later.

[Pacing, mock-serious tone]
And why do all dating profiles look the same? “I like hiking, tacos, and my dog.” Wow. You’re a human being, not a “Live, Laugh, Love” poster. And why do guys always hold fish in their photos? Is this Tinder or Animal Planet? “Swipe right if you want someone who smells like bass and bad decisions.”

[Lean in, conspiratorial]
And bios! “Looking for someone who doesn’t take life too seriously.” Translation: “I will forget your birthday and borrow money.” Once saw a bio that said, “Fluent in sarcasm.” Oh, cool, so you’re… everyone’s ex.

[Shift to social media bit]
Speaking of red flags, let’s talk Instagram. Nothing’s real there. You ever see those “candid” shots? “Oh, this? I just woke up like this.” Bulls--t. You posed for 20 minutes while your friend yelled, “Look like you’re having fun but also dead inside!” That’s the vibe.

[Mocking pose]
And the “perfect” lives? “Here’s my avocado toast in Bali!” Meanwhile, I’m in sweatpants eating cereal from the box, watching your stories like, “Teach me your ways, wizard.”

[Pause, then upbeat]
But hey, at least we’re all failing together. Ever get sucked into a 2 a.m. TikTok spiral? You start watching DIY crafts, then it’s conspiracy theories about birds, and suddenly you’re learning to yodel. At dawn. Your neighbors hate you, but hey, you’re TikTok famous in Slovenia.

[Transition to adulting]
And can we talk about “adulting”? Laundry is my nemesis. I swear, clothes multiply like gremlins. You do one load, and suddenly there’s a sock cult in the hamper. And groceries? Every week I buy spinach like, “This time I’ll be healthy.” Spoiler: It liquefies in the fridge while I UberEats McDonald’s.

[Exaggerated despair]
Don’t even get me started on LinkedIn. It’s just Facebook in a tie. “I’m excited to announce I’ll be breathing air in Q2!” And why do people post, “Open to work” like it’s a dating status? “Looking for someone who can handle my Excel skills and crippling self-doubt.”

[Wrap-up, upbeat]
But honestly, life’s chaos is what makes it fun. We’re all out here winging it, swiping right, burning toast, and pretending we know how to fold a fitted sheet. So here’s to us—the generation that turned surviving into a spectator sport.

[Closing grin]
And if you’re single, hit me up. My bio says, “Will love you more than my plant… which is dead.” Mic drop.

[End on a wink, exit stage.]

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Note: Adjust delivery for timing—keep punchlines snappy, milk reactions, and vibe with the crowd. No puns, just relatable absurdity. 🎤✨

(Walks confidently to the microphone, adjusts it, looks around)

Alright, alright, settle down, you beautiful bunch of… mostly clothed individuals. It’s good to be here. It’s… tolerable to be anywhere, really, at my age. I've reached that point where my back goes out more than I do.

I've been thinking a lot about technology lately. Specifically, how terrifying it is. Like, we’re all walking around with these little rectangles of doom in our pockets. They know everything about us! My phone knows I looked up “symptoms of existential dread” at 3 AM three nights in a row. And you know what it suggested? More cat videos. Thanks, algorithm, that’s exactly what I needed to spiral further.

And don't even get me started on smart homes. My friend got one of those smart refrigerators. It tells him when he's low on milk. Like, dude, open the door! You’re standing right there. Are we really that lazy? Apparently, yes. He also confessed that he once argued with his fridge. Apparently, it insisted he was out of kale, and he was adamant he had just bought some. Turns out, his wife ate it. He lost an argument to an appliance and his wife in one go. That's a special kind of defeat.

Speaking of defeat, I tried online dating recently. Disaster. Absolute, dumpster-fire disaster. My profile picture is me, you know, looking reasonably presentable. My bio says I enjoy long walks on the beach, which is technically true. I just… prefer them to be solitary, and involve a lot of internal screaming.

Anyway, I matched with this woman. She seemed great! Smart, funny, shared my love of… well, breathing oxygen. That's a low bar, I know, but you take what you can get. So, we’re chatting, things are going well, and then she asks the dreaded question: "What are you looking for?"

Now, I panicked. What am I looking for? World peace? A decent night's sleep? A sandwich that doesn’t fall apart the second you bite into it? I went with the honest approach. I said, "I'm looking for someone who won't judge me for wearing socks with sandals."

Silence.

Then, a single, devastating message: "Unmatched."

(Shrugs)

Apparently, sock-sandal synergy is a dealbreaker. Who knew? Maybe I should have argued with her fridge. It probably would have been more understanding. You know, at least it would have offered me some kale.

(Bows slightly)

Thank you, you’ve been… present. Tip your waitresses, try the veal… and for the love of all that is holy, don’t argue with your appliances.

(Lights up on a slightly rumpled comedian, in jeans and a t-shirt, holding a mic)

Hey everybody, how we doin’ tonight? Good? Good. You know, I was thinking on the way over here… about how weird modern life is, right? Like, we live in a time where you can order groceries from your phone, and they magically appear at your door… which is amazing. But then, you also spend like, twenty minutes trying to decide if you really need organic kale chips delivered, or if you can just walk to the corner store. It’s a real crisis of modern convenience.

And the delivery drivers, man, they're the unsung heroes of our generation. They navigate traffic, bad weather, and my apartment building’s bizarre numbering system – which, by the way, makes absolutely no sense. It’s like they designed it to be a spatial reasoning test for pizza guys. I swear, apartment 3B is closer to apartment 7F than it is to 3A. I once watched a delivery guy just stand in the hallway for five minutes, staring at the numbers like they were written in ancient Sumerian. I almost went out there and offered him a compass and a Sherpa.

Speaking of technology… voice assistants, right? Siri, Alexa, Google… they’re supposed to make our lives easier. “Hey Siri, set a timer for ten minutes.” And she’s like, “Okay, playing ‘Tenth Symphony’ by Beethoven.” No, Siri! Timer! T-I-M-E-R! It’s like talking to a toddler who’s fluent in classical music but has no concept of temporal measurement. And then you try to correct her and she gets all passive-aggressive. “Okay… pauses dramatically… setting a timer… for… whispers …ten minutes.” Like she’s doing me a huge favor. I just wanted to boil an egg, Siri, not negotiate world peace!

And social media? Don't even get me started. It’s all curated perfection, right? Everyone’s living their best lives, on vacation in Bali, eating avocado toast artfully arranged on rustic wooden boards. Meanwhile, I’m at home, in my pajamas, eating cereal straight out of the box, and my highlight of the day was finally finding matching socks. And then you feel bad about yourself, because your Tuesday doesn’t look like someone else’s Instagram highlight reel. It's like we're all competing in a silent, global pageant of manufactured happiness. And the prize is… more followers? I don’t know. It’s weird.

But hey, at least we can laugh about it, right? Because if we don't laugh at the absurdity of modern life, we’ll probably just cry into our organic kale chips… which, by the way, are probably getting delivered right now. So, thanks for listening, you’ve been great! Try to find apartment 3B on your way out! Goodnight!

(Lights fade as the comedian exits)

[Comic steps on stage, takes the mic]

“Hey everyone, thanks for coming out tonight. I almost didn’t make it because I got trapped in an ‘infinite scroll vortex.’ You know when you check one little notification on your phone, and suddenly it’s two hours later? My left thumb is basically a professional athlete at this point—I'm in the Guinness Book of World Records for ‘fastest social media refresh.’ I feel like every time I tap my screen, I’m signing away another portion of my soul. But hey, at least I’m caught up on all my ex’s vacation photos and some random cat videos I can’t unsee.

So I got myself out of the house and decided to try being more ‘active.’ I went to one of those fancy gyms—where the equipment is shinier than my future. The treadmill is so high-tech it practically demands a DNA sample before you can start running. I’m standing there huffing and puffing while the machine's screen is playing scenic videos of mountains in Switzerland, encouraging me to ‘keep going.’ Meanwhile, I’m like, ‘Dude, I’m just trying not to collapse. Maybe ease up on the pep talk.’

After that, I thought I’d reward myself with a healthy smoothie. Have you seen the sizes of these things? You order a medium and you get a bucket of kale sludge. They hand it to you with a straw so wide you could drive a toy car through it. And suddenly you’re paying nine bucks to sip spinach—like that’s the best life decision you’ve made all day. Who needs retirement savings when you can have a fancy green drink that tastes suspiciously like lawn clippings?

On the way home, I got stuck in traffic. I just love that feeling when you’re gridlocked behind two people who are evidently in no rush to do anything, ever. I’m sitting there, going about two miles an hour, which is basically just a very aggressive crawl. I’m not proud of how often I shout at my windshield. My car is like my personal confessional booth, and the traffic jam is me atoning for all the times I told Netflix, ‘Yes, I’m still watching.’

Anyway, that’s me, folks. If you’ll excuse me, I have 47 unread notifications that I need to pretend don’t exist until tomorrow. Thanks so much for laughing along—and remember, if you want to feel accomplished tonight, just check something off your to-do list… or, you know, at least make one.” [Comic waves and exits the stage]

Hey, everyone—thanks for being here tonight. You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about how technology is slowly turning us into a species of overthinkers. Take smartphones, for instance. Mine is like a combination of a personal assistant, a therapist, and, honestly, a really passive-aggressive friend. I ask it for the weather, and it’s like, “Sure, here’s the forecast, and by the way, you might want to wear a jacket because you’re clearly underprepared for life.” I mean, I just want to know if I need an umbrella, not a life lesson!

Then there’s social media. It’s a place where every day feels like you’re watching a highlight reel of someone else’s life. One minute you’re scrolling past your friend’s vacation photos—sunsets, exotic meals, spontaneous adventures—and the next, you’re wondering if your own life is secretly sponsored by “Take Your Time, You’re Not Late Yet” Inc. When did getting out of bed become a heroic feat? I mean, there I am, battling my alarm clock like it’s the final boss in a video game, and every snooze feels like an epic victory. Spoiler alert: even the boss has a victory dance when you finally win—by stumbling out the door with two mismatched shoes.

And adulthood? Oh, adulthood is a wild ride. As a kid, I used to imagine that being an adult meant making your own rules and living life on your own terms. Now, I’ve learned that being an adult is mostly about Googling “How do I fix a leaky faucet?” at 2 AM and then wondering if you’re ever going to find the time for a real conversation. It’s like we’re all just improvising, hoping no one notices we’re winging it.

Dating these days feels a bit like shopping online for a used car. You swipe through profiles, examine every detail, and then you’re left wondering if the real engine is under the hood—or if there’s a hidden problem that no one mentions until you’re already halfway down the driveway. And the reviews? They’re written in vague terms like “decent mileage” or “runs well,” which in the dating world translates to, “I might be fun on a good day, but don’t get your hopes up.”

At the end of the day, I’ve realized that life is just a series of awkward moments strung together by our attempts at being perfect. We all have those days where everything goes hilariously wrong, and that’s okay. Embracing the chaos and laughing at our mishaps is what keeps us sane. So here’s to finding humor in our everyday struggles—because if we can’t laugh at our own absurdity, who will?

Thanks for listening, everyone—have a great night!

Alright, here’s a 3-minute stand-up comedy routine—no puns, just some observational absurdity and a bit of self-deprecation to keep it relatable.

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Hey, everybody! Good to be here. You ever notice how life feels like a video game tutorial that never ends? Like, you figure out how to pay taxes, and then—bam!—here’s a pop-up quest: “Learn to fix your own plumbing or lose $200!” I’m 30-something years old, and I’m still waiting for the main storyline to kick in. Instead, I’m just grinding side missions like “Fold the Laundry” for zero experience points and a vague sense of dread.

Speaking of dread, let’s talk about grocery shopping. You ever go to the store and realize it’s secretly a psychological experiment? I walk in for milk, and 20 minutes later, I’m holding a $15 candle that smells like “Forest Whisper” and a jar of artisanal pickles I’ll never open. Who’s whispering in the forest? Why am I paying for their secrets? And don’t get me started on the self-checkout. It’s like the machine’s judging me the whole time. “Unexpected item in bagging area.” Yeah, it’s my dignity—scan it and move on!

You know what’s wild, though? How we’ve all just accepted that phones run our lives now. I caught myself apologizing to my phone the other day. I dropped it, and I was like, “Oh, sorry, buddy!” Sorry to what? The slab of glass that knows my search history? That thing’s not my friend—it’s my parole officer. It’s like, “Hey, you’ve been scrolling for three hours. Wanna watch a documentary about sea slugs instead?” Yes. Yes, I do. Leave me alone.

And can we talk about how adulthood is just lying to yourself to keep going? I told myself I’d start jogging this year. Day one, I put on the sneakers, I stretch, I’m feeling good. Five minutes in, I’m wheezing like an accordion with asthma, rethinking every life choice. Now I just walk fast around my apartment and call it cardio. “Oh, yeah, I’m training—for the Couch Olympics.” Gold medal in “Sitting Still” three years running.

The worst part? Everyone’s pretending they’ve got it together. You see people at coffee shops, all calm, sipping their lattes, typing on laptops like they’re solving world peace. Meanwhile, I’m over here spilling coffee on my shirt, googling “how to adult” for the 17th time. I’m pretty sure half those laptops are just open to a blank Word doc with “HELP” typed in 72-point font.

But honestly, life’s chaos is kind of beautiful, right? We’re all just stumbling through, trying not to trip over the same dumb stuff twice. Like, I’ll keep buying those candles, I’ll keep dropping my phone, and I’ll keep jogging—well, maybe not that one. Anyway, thanks for laughing with me, folks. You’re the best!

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That’s about three minutes—hope it gave you a chuckle! Want me to tweak anything?

Here’s a 3-minute stand-up comedy routine that avoids puns and leans on observational humor, storytelling, and a touch of self-deprecation for laughs:

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Opening: Technology Struggles
Hey, everyone! How’s it going? You know, I’ve been thinking about how technology is supposed to make our lives easier, but half the time it just turns us into confused messes. Like, I was texting my friend the other day to say, “I’m on my way,” and autocorrect decided, nah, let’s spice it up—changed it to “I’m on my cat.” Now my friend thinks I’m out here galloping around town on a tabby. I mean, cats are great, but as a mode of transport? Forget it. You’d be late to everything, stopping every five minutes for a nap or to chase a laser pointer.

The Date Disaster
Speaking of looking ridiculous, I went on a date recently, and it was going pretty decent—nice restaurant, solid chat—until my phone decided it was time to ruin my life. Out of nowhere, it butt-dials my ex. Not just any ex, but the one who still has my Netflix password and isn’t afraid to use it. So there I am, mid-sentence, trying to be suave, and suddenly my ex’s voice is blasting through the speaker going, “Hey, have you seen the new season of our show?” Our show! Like we’re still a thing! My date’s just staring at me, and I’m over here like, “Oh, haha, that’s just… my phone’s impression of a terrible wingman.” Didn’t recover from that one.

Cooking Catastrophe
I probably should’ve seen it coming, though. I’m not exactly a master of romance. My dating history is basically a highlight reel of chaos. One time, I tried to impress a date by cooking dinner—thought I’d keep it simple with spaghetti. How hard could it be, right? Well, turns out, hard enough to set the kitchen on fire. Not a little smoke, I mean flames. The fire department showed up, and I’m standing there covered in marinara sauce, explaining how I turned pasta into a 911 call. One firefighter goes, “You got a permit for this disaster?” I’m like, “No, but can I get your number instead?” Spoiler: he said no.

The Fish Fiasco
After that mess, I figured I’d take a break from dating and get a pet instead—something easy, low stakes. So naturally, I picked a fish. Because why not set myself up for maximum disappointment? Now I’m that guy having one-sided conversations with a creature that doesn’t even blink in my direction. I even tried to take it for a walk once—grabbed the bowl, walked around the block. People were staring, and this kid comes up like, “Are you starting a traveling aquarium?” I go, “Nah, just giving my fish some exercise.” He ran away, probably to tell his parents there’s a lunatic on the loose.

Closing: Blaming the Phone
But you know what? At least my fish doesn’t care about my dating flops. My phone, though? That thing’s out to get me. Between autocorrect and rogue calls, it’s like it’s trying to sabotage my whole existence. Maybe I should ditch it and go old-school—carrier pigeons, smoke signals, something. At least then, when it all goes wrong, I can point at the bird and say, “That’s on you, pal.” Thanks, everybody—you’ve been awesome!

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This routine mixes relatable everyday mishaps with exaggerated storytelling and a bit of self-mockery, keeping it pun-free and clocking in around three minutes with natural pacing and delivery.

Alright, folks, how's everyone doing tonight? Good? Great! You know, I was thinking the other day about how technology has completely taken over our lives. Like, remember when we used to actually memorize phone numbers? Now, if my phone dies, I'm basically stranded. I know exactly two numbers: mine and 911. And honestly, I'm not even sure about mine.

And speaking of phones, have you noticed how aggressive autocorrect has gotten lately? It's like having a tiny, judgmental English teacher living in your pocket. The other day, I tried texting my friend, "Hey, wanna grab lunch?" Autocorrect changed it to, "Hey, wanna grab lungs?" Now my friend thinks I'm either a serial killer or really into organ trafficking. Either way, lunch plans canceled.

And dating apps—oh man, dating apps. They're basically just online shopping for humans, aren't they? Swipe left, swipe right, add to cart, proceed to checkout. But the worst part is the bios. Everyone's "adventurous," everyone "loves to travel," and everyone is "looking for a partner in crime." Really? Partner in crime? I'm just looking for someone who won't judge me for eating cereal at 2 AM in my underwear. Is that too much to ask?

And have you noticed how complicated coffee orders have gotten? I was behind someone at Starbucks the other day who ordered a "venti half-caf soy latte with two pumps of vanilla, one pump of caramel, extra foam, no whip, at exactly 140 degrees." I was like, "Are you ordering coffee or launching a rocket?" Meanwhile, I'm standing there like, "Uh, can I just get a coffee-flavored coffee? Medium? Hot?"

And finally, can we talk about passwords? Every website now wants a password that's at least 12 characters, with uppercase letters, lowercase letters, numbers, symbols, hieroglyphics, and your mother's maiden name. And then they have the nerve to ask, "Would you like us to remember this password?" Yes, please, because I certainly won't.

Alright, that's my time, folks. You've been great. Thanks for laughing—or at least pretending to!