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We speak here of the dowdy. The cotton-poly blend. The bland pastel floral with faux-pearl snaps. Armor worn by everyone from Nanas to Meemaws.
I sent him away, I had to, I can’t surrender my castle to every triple thicc hottie that rides up here. We’d wait it out.
And before you get skeptical or overthink our business model, this is NOT slave labor repackaged as a benevolent good.
Did no one in art school for the past two centuries take any notes in their Michelangelo class? They still spend a semester on me, right?
You should know that I have recently become a follower of the Dark Lord Cthulhu, whose worship I must prioritize above my data entry deliverables.
It's got professional grade tortillas, reclaimed shredded cheese, and was folded the same way U.S. Navy Seals do out in battlefield cafeterias.
For unmentionables, you sure talk about us a lot. You’ve got boobs on the brain, and that’s why we’re not worried. We know you’ll come back.
How am I supposed to get people to think I’m cultured and experienced if I don’t have the selfies with European landmarks to prove it?
Whenever you describe something huge and monstrous, you call it "behemoth"—no one ever uses “leviathan” in the same way. Honestly, it hurts.
As a proud deciduous piece of American timber, I now see it as my obligation to throw my hat in the ring or, more accurately, my rings in the ring.
The flag looks like it's waving because Buzz Aldrin was twisting the flagpole and Ingmar Bergman had an innate gift for the composition of movement.
Before he could sing a single note, I look down to see the Earth's molten core spilling into empty space.