How to Assert Yourself When a Buick Cuts Off Your Sick Subaru WRX
Your blood boils and your molars grind. Your throat rumbles with a primal growl. Now put those feelings into a five-step plan of action.
Your blood boils and your molars grind. Your throat rumbles with a primal growl. Now put those feelings into a five-step plan of action.
Hey, Capri, guess what? It wasn’t the best summer ever. Not even close. I worked the register at Walmart and got carpal tunnel.
In retrospect, perhaps I shouldn’t have loudly invited every member of staff to come watch me “roast this bird” at tic-tac-toe.
His car collection takes up most of my driveway and he keeps stealing my newspapers to do his classic “Headlines” desk bit.
You’re in no condition to drive. But it would be even more dangerous to let your companion do it.
It is not my fault that your son got a splinter from the demolished wood pieces that I judiciously donated to your lawn.
"Weed My Flower Beds" – I dare you to tell the difference between a weed and some bullshit my wife planted. I friggin’ dare you!
Assume a plank pose on the mat that you ordered from Amazon, mentally petitioning Jeff Bezos to treat his employees properly.
A rundown of all the groups scheduled to appear at Portland's nightly protest, including Average Wife Band and They Might Be Half-Brothers.
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 .
Think of me as the gamma-ray to your Bruce Banner, only I give you none of the superpowers and all of the anger.
Since I showed up, did I bother you? Now suddenly, because you look into a magnifying mirror for the first time in months, I'm a problem?