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Your high school guidance counselor forgot to tell you that you are not special. Actually, you ARE special, but in all the wrong ways.
It should have been easy—they're basically small, furry cows devoid of complex needs or even souls. What I could not foresee was rebellion.
Cotton Eye Joe killed my fiancé, and I tried to warn you about him by weaving the truth of his existence into the lyrics of a popular dance song.
The Super Bowl is on the horizon, or so you've been told, and it seems to have importance. Should you sit through this tradition?
Throwaways like "Things are cray!" and "It's such a busy time of year!" don't mean anything if you don't have the unavailability to back it up.
Prepare to drink an entire gallon of gas, run around a race track 50 times screaming "KA-CHOW!" and resist transforming into a car.
The president needs a a speech you say into a phone, so the bad guy knows, by the end of the movie, he's going to bite it. Big time!
All I ever wanted was to be the fourth son of Mike Brady on that killer 1970's TV show, The Brady Bunch. Instead, my life veered off course.
Strap your child in tight: no one wants to be jostled in the helicopter mid-air, even if it's a short ride from the Upper East Side to the Hamptons.
Once dressed, I sit at my desk and say a quick prayer to Dionysus. Then I take hold of the mighty pen and let his spirit take hold of my body.
Lucky, the dog I had growing up, was a living, breathing creature. Black Shuck, on the other hand, is a ghostly apparition fueled by bloodlust.
Is this a modern Huxley, or is it a true fright? Lovecraft… Stoker! Oh, such a crippling thought, such my will of darkness.