Sorry Ma’am, the Apocalypse Is on a Very Tight Schedule
Ma’am, you’ll have to speak up. War is really gearing up for tomorrow’s grand finale, and his machines are pretty loud.
Ma’am, you’ll have to speak up. War is really gearing up for tomorrow’s grand finale, and his machines are pretty loud.
Minilla plods off, leaving Monster Island by himself. Godzilla chokes back his atomic ray as he remembers the first time he laid eyes on him.
Rose* (Human Resources Officer, 1999-Present): He walked into this office on his very first day with that Hot Pocket.
“It’s been a long time since I burst into tears because a publishing house didn’t get its jacket copy before deadline.”
These Mason jars today---all they do is hang around waiting for some kid to go on Pinterest and search “rustic chic wedding.”
Light Blue - You were born on November 17, 1994. You are 24 years old. You are male. If you were not gay before, you are now. No one knows it yet.
I don’t need to remind you about the “Flower Pot Fiasco," the “Macaroni Art Disaster," or the “I Thought It Wasn’t Until Next Month” flop.
It would really mean a lot if I could come in and see where she … ended up. Sorry, looks like I’m interrupting book club.
Our relationship was mutually beneficial: I gave him a son—Yngvar—and he told me my dress wasn’t “too Coachella.”
Quarter of a Quarter Life Crisis: Age 6. You will cope by throwing tantrums before bedtime and refusing to share your trucks with Jeremy.
It agitated its shimmery surface, and with a convulsive motion, sprang to life. “BEHOLD, I AM THE TYE-DIE FRAPPUCCINO,” it roared.
There isn't a law on the books or rule of decorum that will get us to budge. Civilization has no hold over us this deep in the crowd.