Wait, hold up. No way. Are you fucking kidding me right now? Smoke? I just wanted to fry up a late-night dish, and this is what I get? Oh shit oh fuck that’s a lot of steam
It’s come to my attention that I’ll never be an antique bison. Try as I might, I am only a twenty-fifth of it’s size, far less stately than I once had hoped.
Listen, buddy, whatever you’re blabbering on about right now, I don’t want to hear about it. You could literally be telling me that the final for my Art History class has been canceled and I couldn't care less! You know why? Cuz you, and that mouth of yours, have been getting on my nerves lately.
Yeah yeah, Trump did call the Prime Minister of Italy ‘Giuseppe Spaghetti’ today, but I’m blissfully distracted by these delicious new paella recipes.
Again, we should definitely keep the coke cabinet unlocked. It’s just logical.
You don’t need parties to have fun. For example, one great way to pass the time is to watch paint dry.
We can hardly fix these problems in the U.N., but for some reason, at 5 P.M. on Tuesday, I have to pack my stuff up so you can try to fix it in a literal house. It just seems personal.
Sorry to anyone who doesn't enjoy the smell of chipotle mayo.
It’s just that when you’re tugging at your meat clappers right in front of me, I can’t help but feel 1) slightly uncomfortable and 2) slightly disgusted. And Lord knows, I am not the only one in that lecture who has noticed.
Swipe or insert card and follow instructions on pinpad.
Why was our rival selected without the letter swapping motif in mind in the first place?
ow we can get back to the marketing project. Except, I have knots. Horrible, horrible knots. Honestly, they’re the worst knots I’ve ever had, and I bet you’ve never seen knots worse than mine. If you could just take your elbow and jam it into my shoulder, I’d owe you big time.
What sociopath would willingly bring their dirtiest piece of clothing into the sanctity of their white sheets?
I speak over my Engineering friends and tell them I should have gone to MIT even though I can’t count. I walk up to nurses and explain how cancer in the prostate works.
After a 45 minute wait, I was called back into a care room. I was told to take a seat. Trying to jump the gun, I sat on the operating table. I like how the slight elevation makes my legs fall asleep as they dangle.
I know that many of you will graduate from Penn and pursue career opportunities in the great metropolitan centers: your Toledos, your Fort Waynes, your Wichitas. But I implore you, my fellow Quakers- consider moving to humble New York City.
Why should Harold, who yes may have retired from a full-time job and just wants to learn art history for fun, be deprived of that stress formed community as well?
If I was in Penn Law's shoes, I totally would have changed my name for that much money. You kidding? Jesus Christ, dude. You know how many fucking textbooks I could buy with that money?
I know what the rest of you patriarchal trash are thinking right now — the word “mommy” has no place in the bedroom. You could not be further from the truth. “Daddy” has become a mainstay of a typical American sex life for a reason.
The strangeness of my body type (mostly a mass of tangled, wriggling ferrets and canned corn) is most conducive to sweater weather. Then, my body appears normal, at least when I am artfully arranged on a large leather armchair.