I feel like whoever named it a “magic marker” was really overselling their product expectation-wise.
A group of crows is called a murder. A group of people walking slowly in front of me at the store is called a motive.
An old guy at the gym told me I looked like his late wife. I’m hoping he meant while she was alive.
This invitation says, “Regrets only,” so I’m sending them a note that says, “My hair throughout most of the ‘90s.”
The good news is it wasn’t a bug. The bad news is I beat the crap out of a black bean on the floor with my shoe.