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15. Regretting having wasted time and energy on what was pretty much what you would expect a 1,079-page novel written by a white guy in 1996 to be.
Like Andre Agassi’s mullet, I shall never be replicated. Like Stan Smith’s Stan Smiths, I am immortal.
Imagine a book written entirely in uncomfortable places with completely unconventional materials. Genius, isn’t it?
Pour the wine, light the fire/Girl your wish is my command* *Theirs is an equal exchange of pleasure, because it's about consent!
9:00 pm: Apply to 27 jobs for fun (your therapist told you that “hobbies are healthy”) and get them all.
A lot of people will call into question whether or not attacking robots in a theme restaurant can be considered a sport.
This mug featured nine cats smiling at me and each other with the encouraging words, “You’re very special,” written in delicate script above them.
Is there a Supreme Court bowling team called “Divided Court-United Ballers?” If not, why?
Hamlet: Literally The Lion King without any of the lions, any of Africa, any majestic rock, or any Nathan Lane.
I’m worried about the young white boy who watches this movie and doesn’t realize there’s pleasure in riding a helicopter that doesn’t entail gunfire.
And on that farm he had an FBI raid, mostly lawyers and tech nerds obsessing over Lloyd’s wind-powered mining ingenuity.
While I regret the damage to property, any who were there in person must have been moved by the shower of sparks emitted by that antique amplifier.