I Have Designated Myself as the Chief Operating Officer of This Fun Weekend Trip
Emily, I couldn’t help but notice you texted “we’re gonna soooooooooo fucked up. 🤪” Would you be willing to own next steps on that?
Emily, I couldn’t help but notice you texted “we’re gonna soooooooooo fucked up. 🤪” Would you be willing to own next steps on that?
A clumsy answer could lead to confusion. Too much detail, and you risk sending your flat friend into an existential spiral.
But, if I could offer one tiny suggestion, while you sound amazing, the song choice doesn’t show off your full potential.
Let me stop you. That’s not mold. That’s ambiance. That’s character. That’s the sort of authentic, rustic charm people pay top dollar for.
Ya'll must be nuttier than a squirrel's mouth to think you can set up establishments WITHOUT proper certification and licenses.
For the fourth time this month you’re asking yourself: am I on a date with Hall-of-Famer Shaquille O’Neal wearing an elaborate disguise?
Can’t you see how clean my oven is? How filed my taxes are? How very walked my dog is? And yet, the thing is still not done.
Gamer Dogs: Dogs playing poker / Dogs cheating at poker / The puppies in the Puppy Bowl
CAUTION: I’ve killed before and I’ll kill again. You’re probably thinking: “Why would a soft, soft teddy bear kill a baby?"
Oh lord, here comes my nemesis: the dessert menu! If I get a slice of the tres leches cake, you’ll all have a bite, right?
A Western omelette from a bodega served in a Styrofoam tray: You are a nihilist and people should actually be afraid of you.
WELL GUESS THEY CAUGHT ME. GREAT JOB. BECAUSE I PUT MY BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS. OH GOD SO MANY FUCKING TEARS INTO THIS DRINK.