"You fielded eighteen promposals before February. That's a county record."
Luckily, the staff at the White House told us that things actually run a lot better when he’s not around, so they’ve agreed to lend him to us for the next few years.
Supposedly, the journey to the after-life is long. And so, I’ll need my grill and some prime-ass steaks for the long ride.
I can't marry you into the Dukedom of Wellington: my parents are not the Duke and Duchess of Wellington. They're the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire!
Keeper is the proper term for goalkeeper, which I know from all the soccer I watch and not from memorizing the Quidditch positions in Harry Potter.
Hulu: Ohhh, let me guess, you want to watch something with a Strong Female Lead? Netflix: Honestly, that one gets over-cited.
A rapidly disintegrating map will be given to you as you step out of the self-reflection pod. It will lead you to the Sewer of Quitters.
100% white meat between a mayonnaise-soaked bun, this Trump-supporter gets drunk off vodka cranberries and admits that he’s never met a black person.
It’s a commitment, most football teams have several practices a week. As a single parent, I can’t make that work. Also my son is made of glass.
The Super Bowl is on the horizon, or so you've been told, and it seems to have importance. Should you sit through this tradition?
All I ever wanted was to be the fourth son of Mike Brady on that killer 1970's TV show, The Brady Bunch. Instead, my life veered off course.
Here I stand, a proud Giants fan in Veterans Stadium prepared to be spit and spilled on at every turn, proclaiming that Eagles fans have gotten a bad rap.