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Maybe you’ve wondered to yourself while mowing your lawn, “Hey, why isn’t my backyard shaped more like a shaft and two balls?”
What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry for sending an email when your mental energy is devoted to teaching during a pandemic? I am.
To pull off the ruse, hook your David’s Bridal dress on one of the striated rocks protruding from the cliffside. Make sure it really snags and tears.
I also can’t seem to remember anything after the second act, which my therapist says is my brain’s way of protecting itself.
Good News: He has a graduate degree. Bad News: It's an MFA.
Uranus: It’s a planet, but you don’t have to mention every last one. Say, “Earth, Jupiter, Saturn, Venus, Neptune, Mercury, Mars, and so on.”
"I agree": How humiliating to spill coffee on your crotch. I know, right? I’m going to pretend I don’t see it.
Before you roll your eyes, remember, I am optional. If you want to half-ass this job application, don't say I didn't give you the opportunity.
Did Grandpa really like me the most out of all the grandchildren, and even more than some of his own kids?
And let us not forget the original cause of the riot: a double-necked guitar-off.
Pours some liquid into some test tubes, gets their big science-y machine going, and boom. He made me. This human/frog hybrid “monster.”
I’ve got my iPhone ready to snap the most insane pictures of my kids, holding a blackboard with facts scrawled in elaborate chalk calligraphy.