If your drinking story doesn’t involve law enforcement, I’m not listening.
Brad Pitt wears a skirt and he breaks the internet. I wear one and the HOA is all, “Cease and desist!” and “You’re hurting our eyeballs!” and “You are uninvited to the pancake breakfast!”
Whenever I read that a suspect is cooperating with investigators I picture them being helpful in the interrogation room. Tidying up. Providing light conversation.
Whenever I read that a suspect is cooperating with investigators I picture them being helpful in the interrogation room. Tidying up. Providing light conversation.
My mother had eight kids and she’d buy a box of six Pop Tarts. Don’t tell me about your childhood problems.
In the same week I found my glasses and my car keys in the refrigerator. It’s a goddam wonder the government lets me live alone.
You don’t scare me. I used to work retail.
Don’t ask me to dance. I look like a four-year old with his first sparkler.
A haunted house but it’s just your cubicle and your boss is inviting you to a team building exercise.
Me: My point is that every day brings fresh carnage, and there are new horrors around every corner.
Grandson: Read it how my mommy reads it.
This could be the whiskey talking but I don’t think I should be jury foreman.
Me: I have a paper cut.
Universe: Excellent. I will send you an unusually high number of encounters with citrus fruit.
When I was a kid I used to sneak into the racetrack. I was making a bet at the window and the lady said, “You’re not eighteen.” I said, “It’s for my dad,” and pointed out some old drunk. He waved. She said, “He looks wasted.” I said, “He is. Don’t make fun of my dad.”
*time traveler returns from 2021*
“Everybody’s at home, day drinking and proving they’re not robots or cats.”
The year is 2087. We finally have flying cars. Grey’s Anatomy has been on for 82 years.