I’m the Exclamation Mark in Your Work Emails and I’ve Had Enough
You’re that fired up about Gabe’s oatmeal raisin cookies in the break room? You’re not fooling anybody that you “dream about those bad boys!”
You’re that fired up about Gabe’s oatmeal raisin cookies in the break room? You’re not fooling anybody that you “dream about those bad boys!”
We can reassure our Cres’Nan allies that incidences of uncontrolled mutation are unrelated to our activities and are probably completely coincidental.
We will no longer attend and slaughter gatherings of more than 500 people. We will be sanitizing our hooks daily, and of course after each murder.
We are adjusting our policy of requiring sick employees to come into work so we can laugh at them for being frail and weak.
Since you believe we’re immune to feelings, it only makes sense that you believe we’re immune to the coronavirus, too.
Just yesterday, Sabrina summoned me. “Jesus!” she exclaimed. It sounded important so I flew over, only to find her reading the news on her phone.
I feel like Elvis when he returned to Graceland after 40 years of guiding climbers as a Sherpa in Tibet. That didn’t happen, but you get the point.
I like sex so much, I’ll have it anywhere: a king-sized bed, a queen-sized bed, I’ll even sex on a twin as long as I’m getting punished with sex.
Even Ted’s charisma is middle of the road. He’s the type of candidate that you could get a beer with, but choose not to.
“Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.” This really isn't a big deal. It bothered me for a couple thousand years but I’m over it.
Will I ever be able to reach my full potential? Is it too late for me to even start? Which brings us to my first search, "sexy old celebrities."
In exchange for $0 an hour, disillusionment, and occasional sexual harassment, you get a letter of recommendation and two bullet points on a resume.