Not "thinning out." Not "George Costanza-ing." Nope. You're going full-on, sunscreen on your scalp, brain-practically-exposed BALD.
What’s your motive for second-guessing me every second of every day? Every week, we go through the same rigamarole.
Some people might ask, how long after modernism is it? A few hours? A few days?
Gallegory: Everything in a story represents something else, but only for the ladies. Men still have to read it literally.
Only when determined to be A Good Dude or A Pretty Good Dude, will This Dude I Know become My Buddy.
I was wondering aloud if my hair looked hideous and ratty like an overstuffed wasp nest. I didn’t even think you heard my medium-quiet whisper!
My sticker is hilarious because instead of a normie cartoon of my nonexistent wife and darling children, I’ve got two big guns.
I decide not to say “please” or “thank you” and I’m immediately pummeled to death by a diner waitress.
Pancakes?! Why not mashed potatoes? Who makes pancakes for dinner, especially Thanksgiving dinner?
Labor Day - Here’s what they won’t tell you about Karl Marx: He’s a daddy!
Our bar trivia is not—and I can’t stress this enough—fun. Think: the SATs. Think: your driver’s exam—the one you had to study for.
Dude, I cannot wait to get in there and silently appreciate the little fella. Let’s go!