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Depending on how gross the thought is, I’ll either do a full “tut tut” or just a simple tongue cluck. It’s an art, really.
By the time your child is in elementary school, they’ll be able to replace your basement door with a beaded curtain adorned with Grateful Dead skulls.
In five years I hope I can stop dwelling on the time when I was sucked into the thick swamp ooze only to be rescued by a creature of the night.
Trent Dribbly is a gale-force wind of fresh air with his unapologetic attitude about stealing leftover food from coworkers.
You looked through my mail and saw my meager wages. Appalled, you negotiated on my behalf, raising my salary commensurate with the rent raise.
Pop open a bottle today. It’s guaranteed to take your mind off the waterspout that’s currently ripping the roof off your neighbor’s house.
Looking back, I can see it was I, not yo momma, who is so dumb that I stood on a chair to raise my IQ.
Wow, Pete! You ordered a lot of food. Did you skip lunch again?
The more advanced students write basic sentences in their workbooks: “The—dog—says—woof” and “The—villager—screams—aarrrrrgggghhh!”
Pa was hard at work at his moonshine-still turning cotton into cotton gin. Grandpa was reading the paper. The paper was also Southern.
I mean, who wouldn’t want to be in charge of spreading a bit of autumnal spirit throughout the organization?
I appreciate the new possibilities social media has created, but I worry about what they’re missing out on.