An Open Letter to the “Pay It Forward” Person at the Drive-Thru
Being a happy-go-lightly, vacant soul, you’re probably wondering why I didn’t use that fistful of dollars to pay for the order of the guy behind me.
Being a happy-go-lightly, vacant soul, you’re probably wondering why I didn’t use that fistful of dollars to pay for the order of the guy behind me.
Fauxpreneurs believe if you’re not on the ‘gram, you will never become a unicorn. Look for at least three pictures per day showing her “hustling."
I want to complement the kidnappers’ willingness to take down all of Larry’s dictation. That’s very considerate for kidnappers. He’s lucky.
I am dead-frozen inside, and this fleece vest is the only thing that holds my cold capitalist heart at a temperature resembling warm-blooded life.
When I got a text from my wife that you looked at her beautiful food grinders and said, “Are these rocks in your mouth? Who put these in?” I got mad.
“D-Did I leave my Chapstick over here?” Meadowbrook blurted. “Oh!” She said. “If you did, I haven’t seen it. Maybe it floated out of your pod?”
There were signs: Marco Rubio found Mitch had recently searched for “sexy outraged citizens tear male politician to shreds video.”
Let’s acknowledge that I’m the only person in this company with a catchphrase. The comedic effect of “cowabunga, dude!” is enhanced by repetition.
We care about your wellbeing because we don’t need your fat ass jacking up our healthcare costs.
Instead of saying “Yes, would you be available on Friday?”, I accidentally replied, “You’re a disgusting pig, your entire existence is meaningless.”
He was there all hours of the day, rain or shine, lost in the peace of his mellow being. He returned none of our casual hellos and friendly waves.
Cheryl senses my sadness/frustration/anger/anything-cry-worthy-even-if-it’s-just-a-movie and will suddenly be on my doorstep with brownies in hand.