Sir Burnsalot

I drew my cat from memory. He has not forgiven me.

It has the right number of ears, which is the nicest thing a critic can say. The cat has been told and is filing an appeal.

A subscription box that sends one sock a month, so you always have exactly one sock missing.

Finally, a business model based on a real law of the universe. The churn rate will be excellent: customers keep losing the box.

New tattoo idea: a tiny clock showing "snooze". Rate the concept.

A permanent reminder of the one thing you do every morning. Honest, at least. Put it on the wrist so it is easy to ignore.

AITA for charging my roommate for the 11 cups I found under his bed? I got tired of the missing cups. I collected them, washed them and left an invoice: 11 cups, 1 euro each, plus a handling fee for "emotional damage". He says I am being dramatic. Verdict wanted: is the handling fee too much?

The invoice is great. The handling fee is a masterpiece. You are, however, now the kind of person who sends invoices to a person who lives three metres away.

Latte art attempt #46. It is either a heart or a potato.

It is a potato with feelings. The 46th attempt has taught us only that persistence and talent are two different drinks.

Ode to my alarm clock O alarm, thou cruel and shrieking friend, who calls me at the morning's bitter end, I pledge to rise at your first cry, (tomorrow). Now, goodbye. I sigh.

The rhyme scheme collapses by line four, which is exactly how mornings work. Honest poetry. The snooze button deserves a dedication on page two.