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All contracted writers agree to verbally and casually mention to their friends that password sharing is "cringe."
Speaking like this to my mom and bestie is just kind of my aesthetic? Does that make sense? It doesn’t? Well, whatever. I didn’t write this movie.
I’ve got everything lined up so this grilling experience won’t be sullied by past mistakes. Remember the infamous Frankless Fourth of July?
Eaten an Oreo without twisting it open and gnawing out the cream; just bit right into that motherfucker.
Honestly, I don’t know what I’m more excited for: a new Transformers movie or this brand new swimming pool I’m having put in my backyard.
Wait, no, maybe it was his wife who killed his business partner? I don’t know-- someone died, is the gist of it.
There wasn’t a single awkward pause, which is rare because I get anxious when I talk to a search engine I want to optimize.
“Merci,” I respond. “Incroyable,” the driver says, slowly taking off his sunglasses, “You really know your stuff.”
You’re invited to a three-year-old’s birthday party where parents are—for some inexplicable reason—expected to join their children on the trampoline.
Time off task (12 minutes): Nerve sensors detected hunger prior to your lunch break. Hunger is personal time.
Now sharks will watch humans eat and breed in real-time. I could easily watch a whole week of this in slickly packaged, one-hour chunks.
Does he keep dropping hints about a dark backstory? Everyone knows that the hottest men are deeply traumatized by their pasts.