Please Welcome Our Catholic School’s New Sex-Ed Teacher, Stephen King’s Carrie
She has experienced the perfect amount of sexual oppression and shame to properly teach your daughters about their growing bodies.
She has experienced the perfect amount of sexual oppression and shame to properly teach your daughters about their growing bodies.
The theme of my Bar Mitzvah is “Lying awake at night, your face slick with sweat, drowning in a pool of your own despair.”
No matter how many side pickles one has in their lifetime, each new side pickle feels like the first.
"We are an open democracy and welcome 180-degree feedback circle." This is a weak start; we need a strong first point that will set the tone.
“Pine?” No. That’s not “pine,” bitch. That’s the smell of me frolicking through the forest with Jesus.
Subsequent to receiving this letter, you will hear ABBA songs inside your head everywhere you go, no matter what you happen to be doing.
10:17 AM: I send Melissa a First Communion flashback, the time a piece of the wafer got caught in her throat and she had a panic attack in the pew.
The first of your progeny is not your finest. They’re laden with flaws: entitlement, jealousy, anxiety, and approval-seeking tendencies.
I wouldn’t be the Prince of Darkness if I didn’t defend myself against these recent transgressions and bring the truth to light, so to speak.
I heard that in Heaven, you can ride on the backs of angels and use their halos as steering wheels. That’s something I would like to check out.
Deities with this Eldritch Love Language need to hear their bound worshipers verbalize their eternal devotion, with an “I love you” of sorts.
Give me Rafael Nadal. I would let Rafa bagelize me as compared to you-know-who. Is that too much for a poor, first-time U.S. Open qualifier to ask?