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Pottery: This one is simple: the night your wife called things off, you drank an entire bottle of wine and "Ghost" randomly started playing on Tubi.
Jump to conclusions why don’t you? I did not lock her in a basement. I’m not a monster. We live in a tower.
Is he “ugly-hot” or does his face bear the mark of an impish, Germanic evil?
Are you looking for anything specific today? Just browsing? Awesome—mind if I watch from the other side of the room?
Remember how excited you were about the pottery wheel that’s now a hat rack? Or the sourdough starter you ate raw on day three?
Be still my heart, for chivalry is not dead—merely wheezing along at three miles per hour.
Our value option, the Chuckle Tier, includes smirks, knowing smiles, and obligatory chortles at the wisecracks of uncles.
It is May 10, 2008. I am nine years old. I purchase the book Frindle from Hastings Entertainment Store. My mind grows fat off its teachings.
So now I’m a child, still bouncing on the trampoline—did I mention the forest floor is made of trampoline?—and I’m trying desperately not to cry.
I nearly turned it off three times. But if you just stick with it for episode two... that’s the juicy part.
You'd never know that it is an alive organism, save for the occasional dampness and an appropriate amount of mold that forms on the sleeves.
Coming back to the question of spiders, are you afraid of spiders generally, or only “out of context”?