Financial success looms large in your future, perched to topple over and crush you and everything you love.
There is nothing in your world more satisfying than a good taco and a can of beer, but then, there is almost nothing in your world at all.
Post-coital cigarettes are one thing, but the pre- and mid-coitus cigarettes you’re asking those men to smoke are really starting to annoy them.
Death by firing squad has a certain desolate nobility, but it’ll be ruined when the inept, drunken Australians fail to hit you above your waist with the first nine volleys.
Your fear of terrorist attacks is just the thing to get you out of getting married and raising a family.
There’s probably something in your life that can’t be explained in a single-panel cartoon, but so far, those
You’ll briefly be the centerpiece of all creation when the guiding force of the universe remembers that it hasn’t hit anyone with lightning in a long time.
You’ve explained over and over that you aren’t Siamese twins, but unfortunately for you, your surgical team has “separation” on the brain.
You’ll wish you’d bought better shoes when your smelly, worn-out, charred sneakers are featured in a “Don’t Smoke At The Pumps” PSA.
You’ll launch a new street fashion when you find a way to embed diamonds in an otherwise unremarkable pair of breasts.
Don’t worry: You aren’t the first guy to fall in love with a fast-talking, gold-digging knockout, you derivative hack.
You’ve always said that if you had to do it all over again, you wouldn’t change a thing, so expect the eternal return of a morass of mediocrity followed by an untimely death.
