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Allison in HR gave me the full-court press and explained that some of you think my sports analogies are creating a toxic workplace.
There's no way I'm going to pass the anchor-shaped keychain I got from my beach trip.
Getting electrocuted in the Menlo Park mall on the big man’s birthday is on my bucket list, but 2022 is not going to be the year I cross that one off.
I suppose oysters are a noted aphrodisiac, but even those could never overpower the terrifying sight of your lover’s haircut.
Here in Human Resources, we are consistently e-applauding each and every one of our hard-working, self-sacrificing rockstars.
There are five guys on our offense whose only job is to protect the quarterback. Don't take their failure out on me.
They must be swimming in one of the Great Lakes. This guide does NOT apply to the lesser Finger Lakes.
How can someone from Nebraska not want to talk about football, like, at all?
If you ate all that, we’re astonished you are alive to read this notice. Your arteries must be as hard as bricks.
My degree in the Art History of Bookbinding has proved utterly useless, even in the bookbinding industry.
So utterly immersive, so totally believable, so deeply transporting that you just might think you are in Sin City.
Keep all your pockets slick with oil. You can humiliate them further by saying, "What's the matter bud? Can't get a grip?"