I Was Going to Do Dry January But Then I Was Kidnapped by a Band of Pirates
I’m disappointed in myself for not finishing Dry January (and for raiding Tortuga), but now I have new friends and I learned how to load a powder keg.
I’m disappointed in myself for not finishing Dry January (and for raiding Tortuga), but now I have new friends and I learned how to load a powder keg.
Authorities surveying the emotional carnage claimed they had never before seen such an outpouring of weaponized kindness and aggressive friendship.
Now, believe me, no one respects #MeToo more than Good Ol’ Michael-Joe Moderate. I respect it so much that I’ll say it’s gone too far.
“I’m not racist,” I say, laughing. “The first guy who sexually assaulted me was white.”
"Senior": You’re over 70 and must get your pills organized in that little plastic box with the SMTWTFS lids.
I arrived home to my apartment, fresh groceries in hand (despite the fact that I am never seen cooking, talking about food, or eating).
Dizzy from the amount of sudden cardio of hiking, wobble, and then get hit in the head with a drone, the impact sending you down a sharp embankment.
One time I told him I heard a rumor that there was a dead body in the woods and invited him on a hike to see if it was true.
I get it. You're not really interested in me. I'm just an object you can show off to your friends. "Ooh look, I'm Donald Trump and I have a big wall!"
I felt for the first time that I was seeing myself through someone else's eyes, but it turns out it was because I was seeing my twin brother.
They just don’t seem to realize that, in a prank-war, these things just happen. It's no one’s fault, and nothing anyone should get in trouble for.
You probably want to spend one episode on how I was a loving husband and good friend who did nothing to deserve this, whatever "this" ends up being.