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DNR for My Old Underwear
I, Your Ratty Underwear, give my consent to die a natural death.
Humor writing published daily. Featured: Best of Year | Editors’ Picks | People’s Favorites | Satire | Guides | Observations | Stories
I, Your Ratty Underwear, give my consent to die a natural death.
I know your coach said it doesn’t matter if you win or lose. Your coach has obviously never been up to his asshole in debt for betting on collegiate air hockey.
Speaking of, I’ve been thinking about playing some Allman Brothers at the rehearsal dinner. But I might need a little lead time to learn the solo.
Choose a select body part for coverage. Options may include*: arm (1 only), leg (1 only), eye (1 only), lip (1 only), tongue, neck, forehead, or skin (maximum 1 square ft section).
For me, a fresh excel sheet offers endless promise. A blank deck is the root of inspiration.
This muddy car plus your wolf family will make for a pretty incredible #weekend-pics Slack post come Monday.
What are thoughts? A better question might be, What isn’t a thought? A basketball, for example?
We’ve tried to make it easy to avoid those cumbersome demonstrations with our soundproofed wall of historic woven blankets.
Even that pathetic loser Bernard received a letter from his gal.
I gotta have more treats, Benji. I’m fiendin’ for it. You getting a paper cut will not be enough.
When life gives lemons, make sure to offer those to the Mothman in hopes the tart treat will placate his impulsive desires.
Destiny brought me to this remote fringe of blacktop to get a near-microscopic view of a kick-ass car and meet my new best friend.