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In Mayr-a-Layrgo stood Pootin, who existed before the primaries. He sits upon a giant steed, wearing pants but no shirt, chest oiled for some reason.
One especially pleasing development is how Grandpa has started taking responsibility for his actions.
Succulents, violets, bromeliads, fiddle leaf figs, and ferns all appreciate a heavy dousing of gravy.
Buckaroo, it’s time to pack away the silly stuff and focused on what you might actually achieve before the ice caps melt and we have to build an ark.
Wow! A flavor of La Croix that I have never seen before! What marvel! What majesty! Bacchus blessed us with peaches and pears.
My signature traits as a producer are bringing people together who probably shouldn’t be together and separating people by arbitrary barriers.
I scrolled through Twitter and saw a few Forrest Gump references. Why? And then the storm hit: A text from my mom, “Tom Hanks has coronavirus.”
Every time I wearily hang my head into my hands and grit my teeth in frustration, there’s the media, plastering my visage on every downcast article.
We could brawl, and you might get off a few gunshots or blows into my ripped torso, but you can't make me take off work for two weeks.
So please tell me it’s a good idea to set a discrete fire in his wastebasket and blame it on his vape pen. That’s what I’m going to do.
And you want us to report any symptoms of the coronavirus. But, if I can’t touch the forehead, how can I check for a fever?
Looking like the way a six-year-old might try to draw a sports car? Quirky! The sound system that consisted of maybe two buttons total? Great