You will combine a pair of novelty underpants and your considerable ventriloquism skills to give a certain special lady the worst first date of her life.
Your water will break while watching a performance of
Everyone will be talking about your wonderful personality and kind nature next week, which is customary at funerals.
The stars indicate that they know very well who ate the last of the cottage cheese and would appreciate you replacing it, thank you.
The little black dress is an instant sophisticator—slimming, elegant, and timeless—but you’d be better off going with something flame-resistant this weekend.
After six weeks, you still haven’t figured out how Jonah got so much done inside one of these things.
A team of FDA physicians and researchers will soon come out with a 45-page, item-by-item recall of everything you’ve eaten in the past six months.
Remember: Just because you read it in a book doesn’t mean it’s true. There’s no such thing as a “John Updike.”
You will die of dehydration and malnutrition next week, shortly after hitting the snooze button for the 234,734th time.
Just because the ambulances go by at high speeds does not mean they want to race you.
The nation is stunned by Amelia Earhart’s miraculous return, especially when she knees you in the groin and shouts, “Thanks for nothing.”
Your admirable decision to lead a life of honesty and moral rectitude will bring your career in advertising to a sudden and drastic end.
