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It's not that I'm an elitist so much as it is that you are dumb.
Will our intrepid hero's flippant emails get him in trouble with his employer? Join us for tomorrow's episode of FUCK THIS PLACE.
These sweat pants are my skinny jeans.
Culturally, are we ready to move on to being annihilated by different fictional monsters now? I could go for a Sasquatch Apocalypse.
Meteor Panic In Portland When Unusual Bright Object Appears In Sky. "Just The Sun, You Guys," Say Scientists.
Come on, you guys. Maybe all Lance Armstrong really needs is your performance-enhancing hugs.
At the office because my work hates veterans. And America. Probably puppies, too.
I was sad because I had no shoes, and then I met a man who had no eyebrows and I was all DUDE WTF.
If you think we're ready for the challenges of a new millennium just watch people try to use the self-checkout stand at the grocery store.
The guy in front of me must know the secret codes to unlock a Tetris game on this ATM or else I don't know what the fuck is taking so long.
All your beers are belong to me.
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It's fairly obvious I style my hair by napping on it.
Dammit. The club totally handled me right now, didn't it? So embarrassed.
I never met a sunrise I didn't love.
Like a Keurig machine, but for poutine. You telling me that hasn't been invented yet? WTF year are we living in anyway?
The worst part about people deleting their Instagram accts is all the pictures of Starbucks cups and nachos that will be lost to posterity.
To the neighbor that just saw me running around in my boxer shorts: the first time's always free.