Don’t Talk to Me Until I’ve Had My Coffee!
Before coffee, I’m, like, a zombie feeding on its own, like… brains or whatever, and struggling to complete straightforward zombie analogies.
Before coffee, I’m, like, a zombie feeding on its own, like… brains or whatever, and struggling to complete straightforward zombie analogies.
Bernie Sanders: Call me whatever name you want. At the end of the day, I am the only sailor who has the guts to fight for real change on this ship.
That means no phthalates, no parabens, no cruelty, and absolutely zero connection to any missing anti-tank rifles you may have read about.
Next you’re going to tell me that you don’t remember William Molineux organizing prominent Whig meetups at the Old South Meeting House.
He hangs the skin carefully on a manikin and covers his true skin with a protective layer of mucus---the air is very harsh on his delicate scales.
"Karma Chameleon": A gay man falls in love with a faithless reptile who comes and goes, comes and goes.
I'm using my little green thumb to turn up the thermostat and the humidifier at the same time. Now I'm using both hands.
Wrap yourself from the neck down in Saran Wrap, and then ask a friend to spray lukewarm water between you and the plastic with a garden hose.
Once you've put on his face, the propellers are in motion--in two days you'll be in a high-octane boat chase with the man who shot your beautiful boy.
I wanted to send an official cease and desist but my lawyer melted in 2016 so now I have to speak for myself.
At our first show without the droning hum of our generator, it was scary to launch into our opener, a cover of “The Big Rock Candy Mountain.”
Flood solution? Plastic bags. Let’s collect them all and combine them into one giant, country-crossing, water-catching, plastic bag.