I am going to yell into a pillow. I am going to scream in an empty car. I am going to throw a full tantrum in the grocery store cereal aisle.
The alert system will be preceded by two sharp tones — "Hey! HEY!" — followed by "Listen, Buster."
Is this yet another quarrel with your wife about your infidelity? Or an ass-backwards attempt to punish a blasphemous hero?
Sister Rosemary did nothing to deserve your wrath on JFK Boulevard this afternoon.
I suppose oysters are a noted aphrodisiac, but even those could never overpower the terrifying sight of your lover’s haircut.
I’ve made a few enemies along the way, as evidenced by the group chat telling me not to bring my “musty ass around game night anymore.”
The other day I caught up with a gaggle of humans bobbing around in a wave pool and the first thing I thought of was “flesh corks.”
International Wizarding Day of No Technology, a new celebration where Harry Potter fans don't use modern technology while we get a handle on this PR nightmare.
Whatever your personal weird fucking deal is, it won’t end well for you, so best not try to start it with us.
I’ll scream your name as many times as you’d like, or, as a new feature, I’ll rip my shirt off to reveal another shirt with a picture of you screaming.
The heat and the rain resulted in this season’s leaf color being a shade more subdued than in past years. But God, you’d think we killed Santa Claus.
Memory Like a Goldfish? I’ve Got a Memory as Long as the Time You’re Going to Spend in Hell for Trapping Me in This Bowl
Are you familiar with the phrase, “Living your best life?” Do you think that’s what is going on in here?