Barron Trump’s Letter to Santa
Hey Santa, could you spend a little time with me this year after coming down the chimney? You know, discuss Bitcoin valuations and eat some cookies.
Hey Santa, could you spend a little time with me this year after coming down the chimney? You know, discuss Bitcoin valuations and eat some cookies.
"We will play until someone hits the ball past the green patch!" Mikey announces. As pitcher, I know this means we're in for a forever-inning.
Get ready to flip that Jean Nate-age, time-consuming beauty philosophy into a beauty routine that fits into the 30 seconds you have to pee.
Going home for the holidays is never easy, especially when your relatives start talking about politics. Here's some advice to help you through this Thanksgiving.
Hon… are you there? Pick up? When I get home, I must keep away from kids. No want kids get sick. I'll sneak into bedroom. Turn on Nintendo, if I have strength.
With famous parents, you have the advantage of not needing to beat around the bush and pretend to be considerate of their feelings; you can just ask them for a job!
It had the car... with the flag! Yes, THAT flag! What could my mother have been thinking when she gave in to my demands for it?
Rest assured, students do not learn teleportation until their fourth year. We had some minor issues with spontaneous combustion in the past, which is why we pushed it back.
I wonder if my indoor sunglasses and the giant jug of orange juice betray my hangover? The glare from Sister Beatrice indicates yes.
I had long heard rumors of Ben's virtual atrocities, but I needed to see proof of them for myself. After all, he's 10, how bad could it be?
Welp, this is how it all ends. If there's some sort of service to remember me, please have them mention my karate belts.
Sit at the table, young man. You can't have your funding for the border wall until you finish this fiscal deal. Plus, I added some salt.