Boy, That Guy, I Tell You
He ruffles my feathers. He overcooks my sunny-side-up eggs. You know what I mean? Really Mondays my Garfield.
He ruffles my feathers. He overcooks my sunny-side-up eggs. You know what I mean? Really Mondays my Garfield.
My clone is always ill. Plus, our clones are deficient in blood, because we didn’t give them enough blood, so they are often woozy.
I am going to yell into a pillow. I am going to scream in an empty car. I am going to throw a full tantrum in the grocery store cereal aisle.
I didn’t bring my resume with me but here you go: hahahahahhaa. See, I’m good.
5:00 AM – Catching the sunrise? Driving to hockey practice? This is the third least-late time ever invented!
Strong candidates will fit in with our diverse and dedicated group of cryptic caretakers, silent maids, hostile valets, and cursed children.
September 21st, 10:02 PM: “The Big Stinker” spotted again three miles away, hovering outside an elderly woman’s second-story window.
If they have a mentor over the age of sixty who spends most of their day wearing robes, then you are dealing with an absolute keeper.
I suppose death could be right around the corner for us... In the movie, of course!
The publishing world has always had a bias against writers who have never actually written anything.
Having many strangers come to my home was a poorly thought-out concept, and adding alcohol to the mix surely would have created hellfire.
Say, what do you reckon they were thinking when they built such an itty-bitty town in the first place?