Stop worrying so much about what your friends think. You should only care about the opinions of decent people.
You pride yourself on learning something new every day, but next Wednesday will provide you with a greater education in primate anatomy and high-energy physics than you really wanted.
The monsters that rampage through your slumber party will be different from the ones that terrorized Party Beach just a few days ago.
You might be feeling down about your choice of careers this week, but look on the bright side: You’re still the best deal in town.
The story of your life turns out to be a ripoff of Donald Westlake’s 1975 crime-caper novel
Just keep telling the officers “
When the girl you picked up at the bar said she could “peel a banana with it,” she was actually talking about the Peelerator, a handy, labor-saving device she sells out of her bedroom.
There’s just something about you that screams gay. But that’s okay, as it’s your voice, and you’re doing it on purpose.
A word of advice: Though drywall cement is a substance, it is not the kind that can be abused.
You’ve always thought that kicking the tires on used cars was smart, but next week you’ll encounter a dealer who fills them with nitroglycerine.
You just don’t have time for any so-called “rocking” song that doesn’t have cowbell-banging in the chorus.
Two-time Academy Award winner Jack Lemmon will call you at home next Thursday to inform you that he has no intention of ever portraying you.
