My owner’s name is Billy! He is a 5th grader at Newbury Park Elementary School and he loves drawing and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches …
Making the same silly mistakes over and over again without ever learning or changing. I would never do something so stupid.
Anyway, today I texted Brad.
We’re all thinking it, but I guess I have to be the one to say it: the fecund melisma of saturnine parlance is an enervated corpus delicti of modern ontological praxis.
Look, I know what you’re gonna say, Amanda. I know you’ll say “Maeve you can take the week off” or “Don’t worry about it! I’d rather you feel better” or even, “Please Maeve, please stop texting me your fever-induced ideas for articles.”
I don’t have sex with strangers or “smoke weed,” okay? I don’t need to. I have ringworm.
Straws revolutionized the way that people experienced drinking, and soon we couldn’t get enough of the sensation. We suck on straws, cigarettes, dicks, lollipops, and whatever else we can.
Hello. It is I, The Free Peach. You may have heard of me. If you haven’t, that’s okay. But if you’re reading this, chances are you have.
I don’t care about being rich or famous or any of that typical bullshit Satan promises. Certainly not enough to sacrifice Amanda, my eight-year-old daughter.
I’m waiting, Milton. What do you have to say for yourself?
I realize that my implicit association of the concept of jihad with the acts of political violence I will definitely inflict on you if you don’t fill out your course evaluation has the ultimate effect of fostering links between Islam and terrorism. As you have guessed, I don’t care, because I am Islamophobic.