Someone needs to get to the bottom of whatever the hell is going on with shellfish, and then they need to tell us. Fast. We deserve to know what’s going on: How these things move, where their shells come from, and especially if we’re eating their private parts.
I apologize to all the shoppers who were enjoying Chris Martin’s masterpiece ‘Viva La Vida’ until a robotic voice ruined the flow with, “Customer service needed in the skin care department.” But I need this body wash—and, honestly, fungal cream, as well. Once they unlock the body wash, I’m also going to ask them to unlock that case for me. I’d rather not hit that button and alert the entire store to my toe thing.
When you’re so depressed that you sleep through a beautiful day, you don’t have to feel guilty because it’ll still be beautiful out tomorrow. There’s a much greater diversity of industries in Los Angeles than I assumed: You can work in film, television, or film and television. And more!
I know this whole time we’ve been pushing “checks and balances,” but I’m gonna go out on a limb and say there shouldn’t be any checks on this presidential power. It’s definitely risky, don’t get me wrong. Just don’t ever, ever elect someone who you think might be tempted to abuse the unlimited power of pardoning any federal conviction they want.
Detective: Just about the only one who’s isn’t afraid to find out what’s really going on here. Lieutenant: A company man who started out as a good cop (sure, maybe too much of an idealist back then, but who wasn’t? Those were different times.) yet now understands that you have to play their game to make captain—and if that means turning a blind eye to some of the stuff that goes on around here, so be it. And more!
This is the worst timing, too—I just bought a bunch of great new pairs that I was really looking forward to wearing. I should probably try to sell them and make some money back. Are you sure you don’t know anyone who might be interested in buying 40, maybe 50 pairs of edible underwear?
Look, I’m not threatening you, but if you don’t re-follow me, I’ll have to unfollow you. Then I would have to manually check your Twitter every couple days to see what you’ve been saying, and that would really be a pain.
I’ll just stand here, a few feet from your table, not-so-subtly pressuring you to get up so I can finally sit down with my tray. My spicy chicken sandwich grows cold; my strawberry shake begins to melt.
Instead of having managers wear the team’s uniform, make them only wear leather. Raise the pitcher’s mound by 10 feet. And more.
I have recurring nightmares about seeing Sal again. In one, I run into him on the street while I’m sporting a fresh cut. I try explaining that I of course prefer his work, but I’m only in town on holidays, when the shop is closed. Yet he ignores my blathering and thinks I’ve betrayed him. Maybe he’s right.
Some say romance is dead. I myself had all but given up on love. Then I saw you. I’ll never forget it: I was sitting on the toilet as my bowels evacuated, mindlessly swiping away on Tinder, when you appeared on the screen.
It’s heartwarming to know that even in these tumultuous times, two people can still get married for tax purposes. I knew the moment Dan took me to get a lap dance and gave the stripper a $100 tip that he would treat my sister like a queen. It’s strange to think we’ll all be back […]