I Am Having Trouble Carving My Wife’s Likeness into a Pumpkin in Such a Way That Captures Her Raw Sexual Energy
The farmer at the pumpkin patch is threatening to stop selling me any more pumpkins because he thinks what I’m doing is “fucked up.”
The farmer at the pumpkin patch is threatening to stop selling me any more pumpkins because he thinks what I’m doing is “fucked up.”
Is it so terrible that I want transparency? And the permanent ability to login to his Twitter whenever I'm feeling a little fucking insane?
Unfortunately, even if I found the perfect pair of running shoes and I was the fastest man in the world, I wouldn’t be able to outrun the truth.
"Yeah, it’s cool, I’ll just lay here—lie here?" I’ll mutter, as you clamber out of your, I don’t know, 2012 Ford Fusion, with a Phish decal.
Simon says stomp your feet like you’re crushing all the couples who won’t invite you to their dinner parties, because they think you'll feel awkward.
I have to leave you, because an appreciable amount of a chemical compound that smells like feces has been detected in Venus’ upper atmosphere.
Step 4: Find the Studs Inside the Wall - Use a stud finder for this, and definitely don’t point it at yourself first and say, “Found one!”
Alright, let me check my phone. No response? That’s completely cool. I’ll just play with my dog for a little bit.
Before you win me over you must first guess my secret. I’ll take you on a wandering journey, through these dirty, cobblestone Parisian alleys.
I blinked in the winter sun and spotted the raised flag that bore the crest of Quality Time. Under the flag huddled members of my new life.
Seth has returned to his car and confirmed your address for the first time. Your dumplings are no longer crispy or hot. Seth lives with his parents.
Meeting with Kermit, a 65 y.o. frog, and Piggy, a 63 y.o. porcine companion (spouse?). Currently separated. P lives in Paris, France; K in MS swamp.