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“Candidates should be comfortable with ambiguity.” Translation: We have no idea what’s going on.
After an extensive journey of self-learning which some have called a “downward spiral,” it is obvious this agony is a rare inoperable cystic cancer.
If you pat me on the back, I’d prefer to feel like it’s because I earned it.
But all that really matters is how you can sell a bunch of kitchen knives on Etsy by starting a company called "Julius Caesar Knives."
Every Tuesday during that weird evening time slot where nobody you call picks up we’ve been coming here to air out our grievances away from you.
When I was four, I knew I was in my prime. Solidly potty trained, only three teeth missing, able to draw both unicorns and school buses.
What business is it of yours if I put mango in my risotto? Hm?
You’re telling us that our beloved home--a place where many Hagen-Hogan BrätBoy Brats™ have been happily consumed--isn’t worth your time?
Kevin’s voice sounds like Dad’s. Except it cracks walls and sets off car alarms, and also he accidentally stepped on a school bus.
While UBO might not be part of the “Ivy League,” it is part of something called the “Platinum Preferred Double Points Club."
Stranger Tier: The stranger package has been updated to eliminate basic greetings and small talk.
A ménage à deux, so to speak. After all, the only thing better than sex with nobody is sex with somebody.