What doesn’t kill you makes you grumpy. Sometimes it makes you sneezy. Sometimes it makes you happy. It never makes you Doc.
What doesn’t kill you makes you long for days of yore. I have no idea what that means but it sounded right when I wrote it.
Another adjective phrase for use when you are exasperated…
Oooh…that really curdles my milk!
What doesn’t kill you makes you appreciate the little things in life. Like Hershey’s miniatures.
A candidate for punkdom.
Not really a punk, but kind of a punk.
Bereft of light.
Why would anyone ever want to be delighted?
What doesn’t kill you makes you tread lightly. As if you’d tread any other way. Of course if you were treading water you’d tread more frantically. It’s best if you do your treading on land.
What doesn’t kill you makes you hiccup incessantly until you reach the point where they turn into tiny burps because you are gasping for air & stupidly trying to speak through them at the same time. Trying to tell us you have the hiccups is needless because we are clearly aware of this from the halting speech pattern and especially from those tiny, rapid fire burps. Finally, after receiving any number of suggestions for remedies you find the only thing that works is holding your breath till you nearly pass out. This is distressing for you but provides the night’s entertainment for any & all that got to witness it.
What doesn’t kill you makes you lift that bail, tote that barge and take a well deserved break enjoying a frosty beverage.
I used to draw my own comic books as a kid. My heroes were the strong, silent types. One went by the name of Quiet Earp, who incidentally got his name by being very discreet when he belched.
The horse he rode on was a valiant steed named..well, Valiant Steed. His trusty side kick was named…well, Trusty. (Originality was not a strong suit as a kid)
After completing one adventure after another, they’s arrive in the Nick of Time, which was actually the name of the town saloon. (See? There were SOME original things)
There they would encounter a ruthless scoundrel named…wait for it…Ruth Scoundrel. Yes! It was a female. A departure to be sure from traditional western stories and probably influenced by any number of nuns that taught me in grammar school. You don’t know ruthless until you’ve spent time with a middle aged woman who had lived her best years being subservient to a bunch of priests who clearly knew less than she did on any number of subjects. Look, they were perfect models for villains. Motivated by frustration and dressed all in black including capes & black hats…or at least what looked like capes & hats.
It was fun & cathartic working out some childhood angst writing these stories and even more fun earning the 10 cents I’d get by selling them to the neighborhood kids who were usually younger & didn’t know how best to spend their money. But hey…as Quiet Earp would say…”Evil beware and I mean it!”
I never did come up with a decent catch phrase.