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I finally broke the family cycle of white-collar suffering that stretched back sixteen generations.
FEMALE 1 loads 2 of UNIDENTIFIED OBJECT 1 into the microwave. TOTTY is clearly a better appliance than the archaic microwave that doesn’t speak.
Ted counts the number of cupholders in a Toyota Sienna. There are 18. This was not the future he had imagined for himself. He thinks of Paris.
If I was doing such a bad job, you could've told me. You didn't have to set up 183 dining room chairs in a room bigger than your god-damned house.
There’s so much bare, wet skin chafing against me right now I’m having second thoughts about burying that winner.
What’s next, requiring me to carry a regular wallet instead of my trusty burlap sack with a dollar sign on it?
Aeolus gives me a leather sack full of wind, and my guys open it because they think it’s a Market Basket bag full of Munchkins.
12:27 A.M. Chug an entire glass of water. Future You will deal with this. 1:06 A.M. The song “Mr. Sandman” is stuck in your head.
Lord Craig, why dost thou keep the queue stagnant? Is it not time to order the execution of the pilgrim who insists he has a reservation number?
Time is not my friend. Bacteria from the splinter is multiplying, as I text. I can feel sepsis is setting in. I only have one, two days tops.
To be frank, this email arrives at a somewhat complicated time professionally. Perhaps you heard I was laid off not too long ago.
I’d appreciate it if you listened to my tips for spear-sharpening without sprinting to Human Resources.