I decide not to say “please” or “thank you” and I’m immediately pummeled to death by a diner waitress.
I'm advancing science entire centuries without bumping into any serious questions of morality and ethics. How unbelievable is that?
I run this blog with the same passion that I put into competing in semi-annual regional painting competitions hosted by local newspapers.
He also borrowed my weed whacker. How do you get it back from an oligarch? Weed whacking is activity of peasant, not fitting of powerful oligarch .
My business cards are written on giant chalkboards with a topical joke that changes when I feel like it, and I send all receipts to your email.
Wanting to avoid doing three year's worth of laundry, I shall strike out once again, this time to conquer IKEA.
It's just that you've brought too much of that raw, "I survived a war where they still used horses" spirit to your position here.