When Mr. Cruise shouts his most favored insult at me, I must be grateful and verbally show him my appreciation with a delighted squeal.
Edward Scissorhands is a revered cultural icon and I'm just a smelly, obscure German freak. The hypocrisy is unreal.
Look down at your left leg. Do you see some pricklies there? Kick your left leg in the air if you commit to leaving those be, just for a month.
Here’s a funky, vintage suggestion: you could wear pants that close with a button at the top, rather than with an elastic waistband.
If it were any other June, I too would be playing squash and basking in the sun’s rays, but this year is different.
Since I showed up, did I bother you? Now suddenly, because you look into a magnifying mirror for the first time in months, I'm a problem?
I reached my biblical allotment of three score and ten. I am, as St. Paul wrote in his second letter to the Corinthians, “playing with house money.”
We'll be using six-foot-long scissors. Due to a moratorium on ribbon cuttings, plenty of giant scissors are lying around the mayor’s office.
And you want us to report any symptoms of the coronavirus. But, if I can’t touch the forehead, how can I check for a fever?
These uncovered trash bins might as well be a Bigfoot buffet. And one Bigfoot taking a dip in your pool will permanently clog the filter with hair.
You should know that the only reason I’m smiling right now is because that’s all you’ve taught me to do.
How are you? How's the company? I'm asking not because I care, but because I want to ensure that you still work here. You're my most valuable contact.