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A handful of those tri-colored diabetic nightmares leave me physically ill with my head pulsing in pain. And guess what? I’m into it.
Iced lava. Coal brew. There Was Blood, A Long Time Ago. Dinosaur Smoothie. Tyrannosaurus rocks. Triceratopped off.
The lady perched by a theme-park Eiffel Tower, clasping a suspiciously shiny handbag, and hoping security doesn’t notice she jumped the gate, is me!
Even today, when I see his head, my mind goes wild with possibilities, envisioning all the dirty dishes that I could set down upon it.
Suit and tie? Business casual? I think the Leatherface on my t-shirt will let you know what I think about them.
The hostess had my children help her out in the kitchen this morning, chopping vegetables and stirring a great big soup pot.
The thickness of the summer air has once again damned you. I say, I’m going to return with some hot coals to singe those satan ropes.
For PE period, Mr. Smith will lead you in a round of mumblety peg, which he informs us has something to do with knife-throwing! Zany!
Isolated and idle, alcohol became my only sidekick and I didn’t care if it was shaken or stirred as long as it was in my mouth.
Pray especially for those of us who have screamed "SHUT THE FUCK UP I AM TRYING TO MEDITATE" at our children.
Yeah, I’m the Leonardo Da frickin’ Vinci of avoiding meaningful human interactions.
This constituent definitely knows what she's talking about and in no way just copy-pasted talking points from an out-of-date email forward!