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I usually stay in the center of your tummy but unfortunately today I’m writing to you from the deepest depths of what could be considered your "gut."
I have come to the stark realization that I am no longer funny. I say that having once had one of the world’s great senses of humor.
By the time I’m through with your tokens, they will be funged beyond recognition. I disrupt the blockchain. I drink your milkshake. I funge your tokens.
How do I use this machine for exercise? Just sit back and push up on the sad branches/robot arms, letting the weight fall back down with a loud SLAM.
WHAT WE’RE LOOKIN’ FOR… YOU: - Enjoy tippin’ over hot dog carts for craps n’ giggles - Like puttin’ pennies on train tracks and watching ‘em smoosh
Submissions open at 3 AM on nights when our editor-in-chief looks at the night sky and feels a particular shade of melancholy.
Everyone agreed that you are fatally lacking any brand whatsoever. The days of "hanging loose," and "taking it as it comes," are long, long gone.
If you’re used to other eateries in the area, you might be surprised by the cold, but we didn’t mind cuddling up.
Sure you have been up since 3 AM, counting the hours before you cry in the bathroom on your lunch break. That doesn’t mean you can’t tell others how to live.
Okay Peloton community, we’re about to slim down that inbox! Take a deep inhale and move those unread messages straight to the trashcan.
Have you ever fucking had a Flamin’ Hot Cheeto? Multiply that by fucking 800 and you’ll get an inkling about what the goddamn fuck I’m getting at.
He loves late-night, steamy phone calls when I’m home alone. I always tell him it’s such a boomer move but he just loves hearing my voice!