Nothing short of a propane blowtorch, a full-face respirator, an ample supply of drinking water, and a HAZMAT suit will adequately prepare you for next week’s parent–teacher conference.
They say you can’t judge a man until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes, but after 3,000 feet, you’re beginning to suspect he’d like to have his sneakers back.
Approaching police sirens combined with your naturally paranoid tendencies will significantly alter the stuffing of tonight’s honeysuckle white turkey.
After much analysis and numerous readings you will come to realize that Lord Alfred Tennyson’s
With the hours you spend each week writing and rewriting dozens of trivia questions, the least those contestants could do is wait until you’re done reading them before buzzing in.
During a time of great distress you will be strangely comforted by the thought that somewhere in the world, at that very moment, writer–actor Michael Ian Black is stuck having a discussion about Slinkies.
You will stumble upon an incredible found-art object this week moments after Rembrandt’s “Portrait Of Nicolas Ruts” is mistakenly thrown out in a nearby dumpster.
You will be charged with obstruction of justice this week after adding a giant bowler hat to your police sketch of the missing culprit.
Remember: It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye—not an arm, half a right leg, a lower jaw, several organs, five pints of blood, and the complete control of his central nervous system.
You will join hundreds of other Americans in protest outside the White House next week after President Bush announces plans to send only 2,000 improv troupes to fight in Iraq.
A heated and extremely graphic argument with your wife about the effects of erectile dysfunction on your marriage will traumatize roughly 128 schoolchildren at the Grand Canyon next week.
An out-of-body experience will soon leave you with a deeper understanding of just how much weight you should be trying to lose.
