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Oceans, as far as I was concerned, are considered full speed ahead. Open the floodgates. Yellow is mellow. Before you know it, a wave will dissipate the concern anyway.
Babies are the worst. But now you accidentally have one (please say it wasn't on purpose), and I'm here to help you deal with the screaming little poop factory.
The late-teen/college-aged, sex romp, 1980’s rom-com is the epitome of excellence. And I base this solely on my recent viewing of "The Sure Thing," amongst other preconceptions.
Scott Willard didn't look at himself as a 58-year-old guy in just any clown suit. He was THE Ronald McDonald; a beloved, recognizable icon more popular than Jesus Christ.
There was no better leading man than Roseanne Barr. Even though he mysteriously mensed once a month, we learned what life was really like in the blue collar trenches.
You know what? I'm terrified of babies. To me, babies are like grenades: I appreciate grenades, I love grenades…but I'm a little nervous around them.
A narcissist never washes his hands after using the restroom because he thinks, "My genitals are clean, not dirty. If everyone could touch my genitals, they would be better people."
The guy who used to make the popcorn, who is now Bruinhilda, the Spectacular Dancing Bear of the Mysterious Gypsies, tells me I got lucky.
Before I walked in to school, I took a second to look in the mirror and reassure myself that I'm powerful and people respect me and that I was going to make the kids my slaves.
As I walked up to the building for the first time, all of the altar boys in the church started pointing at me and whispering as if I was some kind of a freak.
I knew that while meeting my children that day for the first time would be a happy experience, I would be enduring the strange feeling of knowing nobody.
For most people, Alcoholics Anonymous might be a second chance, a new lease on life. For me, it was a place for people to make fun of my most vulnerable physical attributes.