In what ways do you communicate online?

Let me put it this way: I don’t communicate online—my phone miscommunicates for me. Here are some of my most legendary autocorrect disasters:

At work, I tried typing, “Looking forward to our meeting,” but autocorrect thought, “Looking forward to our mating,” was more professional. Now my boss avoids eye contact and HR keeps giving me pamphlets.

I texted my wife, “I love you,” but my phone felt bold and changed it to, “I live you.” Her response? “Cool, rent’s due on the 1st.” Sarcasm level: Expert.

Once I offered to bring dessert, typing, “I’ll bring cake to the party.” My phone thought, “I’ll bring a cat to the party,” sounded better. Now my allergic aunt calls me Dr. Evil.

During an actual crisis, I texted, “I need a doctor,” but my phone switched it to, “I need a donut.” Honestly, the donut might’ve saved me quicker.

I tried to motivate my friend by texting, “Let’s do some squats.” My phone, clearly craving seafood, went with, “Let’s do some squids.” Long story short, we now have matching bibs for calamari night.

I meant to write, “I’m eating sushi,” but autocorrect had the audacity to turn it into, “I’m eating Susie.” Now my friends think I’ve embraced cannibalism, and Susie hasn’t spoken to me since.

I typed, “Happy Birthday!” but autocorrect decided to spice it up with, “Hippy Bath Day!” Now my friend thinks I’m encouraging a soap-free lifestyle.

One morning, I texted, “I’m grabbing coffee,” but my phone, channeling its inner farmer, switched it to, “I’m grabbing cows.” My mornings now sound like a scene from Old MacDonald Had a Farm.

I meant to reassure my friend with, “I’ll call you later.” Autocorrect transformed it into, “I’ll kill you later.” Now they keep sending me cryptic texts like, “Don’t forget who feeds the fish.”

I wanted to text, “I want spicy food,” but my phone decided, “I want spicy foot,” was the vibe. My friend hasn’t stopped sending me links to foot lotion and chili powder.

So, when people ask how I communicate online, I say, “With chaos, confusion, and a little bit of terror—thanks to autocorrect.” My phone doesn’t just sabotage my conversations; it writes its own sitcom.