Re: The Jar I “Couldn’t” Open
I’m not sure if you are aware that my hands were a little wet when the pickle jar was passed to me.
I’m not sure if you are aware that my hands were a little wet when the pickle jar was passed to me.
I’m not very good with computers, could you clarify what you mean by “you somehow attached your son to your previous email rather than your story”?
Soon, I’ll have to decide which to marry. For now, we do a lot of courtship. One of them might stare at me, and I stare back.
She rolls into my office like one of those rotating hot dogs at 7-11. You know the ones, plastic-y but intriguing.
No, of course not. It's no big deal. This happens to everyone. Right? Everyone has little involuntary muscle spasms sometimes.
Lower back pain that sets in after approximately half an hour of immobility.
So where are you holding the wedding? Is it going to be in the sewers of Chicago?
My schedule should def get more flexible though after the conclusion of the next eight American presidential election cycles.
Minute 4: I cut out all fake friends, they’re leeches.
You're eleven, and first thing's first: everybody is going to be super impressed that you, an eleven-year-old, are already reading Hemingway.
After my performance last Saturday, I cannot in good conscience accept this participation ribbon.
I’ve been going in there (dark places in my mind) and destroying it (crying)! I take no prisoners (except myself)!