A two-step guide to warning someone not to hit their head: 1. Wait until they’ve hit their head. 2. Say “Ooh, mind your head!”

I always fear that one day I will enter my house and find a thief, knocked out unconscious by the things fallen on his head from some closet.

If you’re going to stare all night and not say hello, do you mind taking your fingers and squishing my head from across the room?

Many people mistakenly believe that diamond is the hardest substance on earth, but in reality it is my husband’s stubborn head.

The class: “You want us to do what?” Super Mario: “Jump around, catch and eat the giant mushroom, bang your head against the crates and, if necessary, crush all the critters. It’sa easy!”

Nature is fascinating. A dandelion makes it through concrete, while I get my head stuck in my sweater in the morning.

If I like you I keep you close, if not I keep you at a distance so I can mime squishing your head between my thumb and forefinger.

The adult version of “head, shoulders, knees and toes” is “wallet, glasses, keys and phone.”

If I shook my head at every stupid thing I saw, I’d have permanent whiplash.

I hope I don’t die of something stupid like old age, I want a piano to fall on my head.

Having a teenager is fun because the voice in my head that questions everything I do now has a friend.

Through repetition and sheer will I’ve mastered gracefully falling on my head.

Nothing more rude than taking a photo of yourself and it looking like how you actually look, and not how you look inside your head.

I didn’t really mind the voices in my head until one of them started their own podcast.

No matter how old you are, an empty Christmas wrapping tube is still a fun thing to bonk someone over the head with.

I might look calm, but in my head I’ve punched you in the face three times.