The guy I cheat off moved seats before today’s spelling test, like he’s teaching me some kind of lessen.
Me: *turns to date* darling
Me: *gets down on one knee* will you
Me: protest racial inequality with me
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endless breadsticks. bottomless fries. yawning abyss of onion rings. HOWLING DESOLATE CHASM OF POTATO SKINS
Can you leave my body on a jogging path so people think I was exercising
[shopping for make-up]
“Excuse me, what will make my eyes pop?”
“I know exactly what you need.”
[boots you into the vacuum of deep space]
Larry Hagman- dreams of Jeannie
Larry Hangman- d_ea_s _f _ea_ _ie
Me *at my office*: “Do you need someplace to put that out?”
Client: “I’m not smoking.”
Me: “No, I meant your kid.”
Don’t make me take off my belt because then my pants would fall down and my body looks like an egg on toothpicks.
Nothing is worse than having jock itch. ESPECIALLY within 100 ft of a school or playground.
I hate when the hot person in my peripheral vision turns out to be a mannequin.