Neither of us like wasabi, but these are wasabi with cinnamon and pineapple, so I have a feeling the other two flavors will overpower the wasabi.
Now I’m halfway to the table, and this bowl is burning my fucking hands off.
Over our long history, we’ve made countless non-changes to our product, from refusing to add any flavor to churning out the same muddy texture.
I was out of eye of newt, so I substituted rainbow sprinkles. Spell did not work. 0/5 broomsticks
- “Economically anxious” strawberries - The blackberries of our discontent - The raspberries of road rage
Put it on this coat rack, where all of my coats are. Is that because I regularly put my coats on the coat rack, rather than strewing them on the floor?
Firstly, you shouldn’t be put off by the fact this milk is from a rat. This is top-shelf stuff in the rodent milk world.
It had just recently opened the moment I turned the corner, as I have no object permanence.
Having never been to a mandatory restaurant before, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but Marshall-Chase-Spiderman-Sit-Down-Now was delightful!
- Both fell off trucks at one point. - Neither speaks French.
The restaurant would tell you that a lot of my experiences were colored by my sloth, but I disagree. This could happen to anyone, even the slothless.
I didn’t help break into the Banco de España to see these delicious snacks I’ve generously prepared go to waste.