“Another group of attractive women hand out packs of Trolli Sour Brite WEIRD BEARDS (gummi candies shaped like NBA player James Harden).”
“I’m stuttering just thinking about that shit.”
I’m sure you’re asking what I would provide your darling children as their formal caretaker.
It was inspired by “that scene in Swordfish where Hugh Hackman hacks for two straight minutes while drinking wine and shouting, ‘No, no, no! Wait– yes!'”
“What do you mean the money’s gone?”
Technically, I could go outside. But I have no money, and very little gas in my car.
There is Shit, they are Going Through It, and their post is fast accruing some of the worst advice one can imagine.
“Forsake all but convenience.”
She sees her body—the red puffy jacket, the blue skin now bloated in the cold sea.