If You’re Here to Party, Put Your Hands Up for a Quick Head Count for the Fire Marshal
There are just too many beautiful people here tonight! No, really. There are actually too many of you and roughly ten to fifteen people have to leave.
There are just too many beautiful people here tonight! No, really. There are actually too many of you and roughly ten to fifteen people have to leave.
"Trains! Trains! Trains!" The party starts at 2 PM, but could start as late as 2:16 due to a cup that has caught fire on the track.
Having many strangers come to my home was a poorly thought-out concept, and adding alcohol to the mix surely would have created hellfire.
LISTEN BRO. JUST REMEMBER THAT YOU CAN ALWAYS COME TO ME WHEN YOU’RE FEELING THIS WAY BRO.
"Jeepers creepers! They're going to scratch the place up!"
Here they come—the very few remaining loved ones that will still attend this charade. There’s Grandpa Ernie, wearing his pajamas.
I am partially responsible for the continued shrinking of the middle class and growing wage gap among workers. I am sick about it.
I became a bowling alley screen animation because damn it, I love this sport and I love being a part of it.
Don’t invite Glug if you are having his former mate Praki who dumped him for that Neanderthal with the wheel.
These last ten months of social distancing, mask-wearing, and air-hugging have to have been especially tough on extroverts.
I hope this level of detail gives you a clear understanding of the lengths that many of us would go to avoid any more forced, holiday-themed fun.
With so much laughter and Vicodin flooding the streets during the daylight hours, powerful dream beasts emerge to rule the night.