A Picture of the Loaf of Bread I Made Six Years Ago: My source of pride.
Did we go to college together? No, I went to Penn State. High school? No, I’m from New York. Middle School? No, I never graduated.
The good news is I’m lying. It’s just good news. The bad news is I’m a compulsive liar so it’s all mostly bad news, unfortunately.
I understand that this neighborhood has changed in recent years, and to some, my frontage looks “ironically shambolic” or “intentionally distressed.”
Letter to My Wife After She Casually Told Me She Knew Someone Who Was Eaten by a Lion Ten Years into Our Relationship
I would think this would be first-three-date territory, even. Instead, you decided to mention it a decade into our relationship.
Writers: Are You a Plotter, a Pantser, or Are You Plotting Revenge on the Kid Who Pantsed You in High School Gym Class?
Some write to live out a fantasy that they were never granted: revenge on Frankie Wick, who pantsed them in Ms. Dakota’s class in the 9th grade.
Oh. You're hung up on the "no pants" thing. Uh, look, time travel is an imprecise science.
The person who left the initial voicemail saying, “Come to the lab immediately?” That’s Dave 7.
You pray the gods will soon fill your hands with a warm United States Passport Application. Oho! It is not so simple.
"I agree": How humiliating to spill coffee on your crotch. I know, right? I’m going to pretend I don’t see it.
- An important work of literature is being discussed. You have not read it. - You are mostly silent.
Have you been getting some emails that seem Phishy? This is PayPal, btw. The real PayPal. How can you know? You’ll get a gut feeling inside.