I have a flat metal face, a warm personality, and I love to glide smoothly across your wrinkly clothes, but I hate being left face-down. What am I?

I have no voice, yet I can tell you a million secrets about the past, present, and future if you just open me up. What am I?

I am tall when I am young, and I shrink and eventually die when I am old. I cry hot tears of wax. What am I?

I am a master of disguise who wears a bright neon vest, stands on the side of the highway for hours pretending to hold a sign, and yet every single car in a three-mile radius suddenly slams on their brakes the moment they spot me. Who am I?

The person who makes me has no need for me; the person who buys me has no use for me; the person who uses me never sees or feels me. What am I?

I am full of holes, yet I hold a ton of water. If you squeeze me, I cry, but I never feel sad. What am I?

I have a spine without bones, a bed without sleep, and a mouth that never speaks. What am I?