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You’re young, your hormones are raging. All you want to do is figure out what the shadowy figure following you through mirrors is saying.
Don’t worry about the old-timer who whispers “Beware the woods at night!” to you—it’s just his way of welcoming you!
I’ll tell you this about Carson City, pard: if’n you wanna survive on these wild plains, best thing you can do is subscribe to my newsletter.
"Dude, I heard you were doing the transcendental thing so I brought you a six pack and a slew of magazines of an... Umm... Delicate nature!"
Some of us are in it for the monk-ing and not the "reluctantly helping to investigate a crime despite the suspicion it draws upon themselves"-ing.
You’ve seen the lows; the fighting, the occasional breakups, and the time Jeff left me at Six Flags and the park closed while I was still inside.
Like all bars with inscrutable locations, it’s a speakeasy. A “secret” bar. But it’s a secret the way it’s “a secret” your aunt got a facelift in 2015.
Heaven has several noteworthy attractions. It boasts a decent choir, if you enjoy liturgical music. The library has a good book.
Depending on how gross the thought is, I’ll either do a full “tut tut” or just a simple tongue cluck. It’s an art, really.
By the time your child is in elementary school, they’ll be able to replace your basement door with a beaded curtain adorned with Grateful Dead skulls.
In five years I hope I can stop dwelling on the time when I was sucked into the thick swamp ooze only to be rescued by a creature of the night.
Trent Dribbly is a gale-force wind of fresh air with his unapologetic attitude about stealing leftover food from coworkers.