A Letter from Your Hangover
I want you to feel me in every inch of your body until you lose all sense of logic, and the usual minutiae of lazy Sundays goes out the window.
I want you to feel me in every inch of your body until you lose all sense of logic, and the usual minutiae of lazy Sundays goes out the window.
Listen Admiral Ackbar, we all agree you're doing a super job as admiral, but we'd appreciate it if you could stop yelling "It's a trap!" for the rest of the hunting trip.
We all know that the DVD copy of Animal House that you brought to college was given to you as a present by your younger sister the day before you left.
I’m here because I also have a relationship with the public, outside of Bill Cosby the human, and I have to ask you all one question: We're still cool, right?
Thanks to customers like you, we are proving that there is no point in using your hand when you can put your dick directly into a silicone tube.
Remember me? I don't want to brag, but you checked out my OkCupid profile every day for months before finally messaging me with "wink…wink… what’s your bra size."
From wedding rehearsals, to cookouts, to sporting events, you've clothed my legs creaseless and made me appear super-intelligent. But now your time is over.
Unmanned drones are killing innocent humans every day on this planet, but all of that is weak sauce compared to a fictional methamphetamine empire TV show.
I don't need your commie food charity, Brocko. What am I supposed to do with all this food? I can't pawn the steaks, I already tried that.
Hey girl, I wanted to sit down and chat over a cup of coffee but for some reason you aren't returning my phone calls. Listen, you cheated. I get it, I understand.
<p>Like most people, I get most of my news from old tabloid magazines that I find in the garbage while looking for food or treasure. Because of this, I am convinced that celebrities live in a glamorous alternate universe that I like to call Tabloidia. It's a world of shocking sex scandals, exposed nipples, and drunken naked chaos.
My initial shock and disbelief quickly dissolved into anger. I knew what I was supposed to do—not litter—but where was the commercial that taught you how to deal with litterers?