Do you know what happens when I shimmy my hips and wave my hands around to the beat? My friends trap me under a bed sheet and beat me with socks full of quarters.
He has a massive brow, as well as a vacant, drooling sort of stare. He wouldn’t notice if you stood him at the bottom of a cliff and dropped an Acme™ anvil on his head, so a few bullets probably won’t slow him down at all.
Since Diddy’s ego is big enough to appear on air traffic control radars, I assumed that he planned to replace James Bond, rather than allow the legendary superspy to be his partner.
The above was part of yet another political discussion taking place on Facebook, the premier forum for solving the world’s problems.
You can imagine how excited I was to hear that Chinese Democracy, the newest album by Guns n’ Roses, might no longer be the elusive Sasquatch of the music world.
I have taken on a new, enlightened personality dedicated to answering important, heartfelt questions about your career, spouse, love life, or any of that other junk.
I mean, technically, a happy little kid leaving handprints on his parents’ new wallpaper is a painter. And since I take women to untold heights of ecstasy, you could probably call me an astronaut.
Madonna’s music makes me try to figure out the best way to messily destroy myself as a nonverbal form of protest.
With Google calling the shots, you won’t send that tear-soaked, 4 a.m. email that unintentionally pushes your ex into the arms of some broad-shouldered European guy who’s probably better in bed than you are.
It’s hard not to picture a future full of warming one’s hands over oil drum fires, sleeping in tree houses, and eating old tennis shoes while desperately trying to convince myself it’s roast beef.