Old people be like “no elbows on the table, it’s rude” then say something racist.

My favorite yoga pose is reaching for the remote control on the far end of the table without falling off the couch.

I am at my Thanksgiving table observing personality disorders that have not been identified yet.

I purposely overcook my holiday turkeys so I don’t have to hear anyone at the table say, “moist.”

My funeral better have a bloody merch table.

“I have a favourite hole”, me, at the pool table.

Teens be like, “You know that crumbled up piece of paper that’s been on the table all week? I need it for school.”

The difference between the kids table and the adults table during holiday dinners is that there is much more screaming, crying, and arguing at the adults table.

I nearly broke my toe because the coffee table didn’t look where it was going.

You cannot hurt me. You are not a hip-height table corner.

I’m always happy when I come home from shopping and the note on the table reminds me of what I wanted to buy.

Speed dating, but it’s just me changing tables at a restaurant every few minutes trying a bite of everyone’s food.

I like waiters. They bring a lot to the table.

The real miracle is how Jesus managed to book a table for twenty-six people on the night before the Easter holiday, and then only half them showed up.

Some days you are the table and some days you are the toe.

Fancy restaurants are self-esteem destroyers because good luck not leaving an embarrassing stain on the white table cloth. Ever.