Santa Claus Is Coming to Town– Oh God, Hide the Cookies! He’s Here!
Billy, look at your mother! Tell me you hid the Milanos with Dark Chocolate Filling! Oh, my child... How could you?
Billy, look at your mother! Tell me you hid the Milanos with Dark Chocolate Filling! Oh, my child... How could you?
Was the Fanny Fay Fruit Cake Great Grandma Wrapped Up and Brought to Dinner from a bakery trash can or Fanny Fay Old Folks Home’s Charity Bake Sale?
We’ll start with an easy one here. Grandma probably didn’t understand the rules and went ahead and put her name on the package.
Marcus makes you miserable playing ultimate frisbee inside and then using his Frisbee as a plate, but are you willing to give up the incredible gifts.
I promise no more pretending the calendar’s a ventriloquist dummy with Jersey accent when I have my fingers inside Santa’s slot.
Believers, tonight I bring you good news of unlimited talk and text to the Creator of the universe, powered by America’s best 5G network.
Did signal his phone screen had fallen and cracked And thus with a shudder, he swallowed his pride And off to the Whovilleplex Mall did he ride
The Multi-Millionaire: They have it all. The husband, the mansion, the coke addiction. What could you, their friend in low places, get them?
Our eldest son, who fancies himself an art dealer of dick pics, has found his avocation stuffing pimentos into green olives. Someone's gotta do it.
In Who-ville, critical thinking is not valued as a trait. No, rumor and hearsay are given far more weight.
It pains me to think that the childhood I’ve carefully constructed for Trevin could come crashing down, all due to the ramifications of your bullying.
My mom mailed me back my matching pajama set with a note, “Don’t bother wearing our family Christmas pajamas unless you ask for something fun."