Then I look over at Chad Chadson’s post and he has response after response. I mean come on! All he said was that women are “cool” and that we just need to “like not be sexist”. Even my TA dropped a response: “So true bestie”. Am I that irrelevant?
“When I tried to give her a tissue, she started crying about how Dulé Hill was underutilized. I don’t know where she’s getting all this from. She’s only seen four episodes, and it was during her eighth-grade speech and debate class.”
Spam Risk sounds kind of rugged. Smells like pine. Those two-syllable names really get me. Like… James Bond. Or Hugh Grant.
Rather than constructing a long hallway filled with laser tripwires pointed every which way, such that only the most skilled gymnasts can somersault their way through, Dr. Moodering has put all the lasers in one column, all pointing in a single direction. This makes it impossible for even the most limber of heroes to circumvent the lasers and is an offensive jab at the gymnastics community.
I’m sick of making excuses like “I have projectile diarrhea”.
This wasn’t just to queerbait — we’ve got a lot in store for fans of Kongzilla.
While others are on the fence, some residents of Bobb are welcoming the new faces. “The rats are actually all great!” said one resident wearing a suspiciously tall chef’s hat. “Help me…please…” she pleaded, smiling
“Not even a sweatband with his frat’s logo on it to keep his quarantine haircut out of his eyes!”
“Turns out the twenty-third time’s the charm.”
But I’ve already done my birth chart, Flippy, and it’s bad! King Julian sun, Maurice moon, and Mort rising? How am I supposed to get any pussy with a Mort rising?