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My tramp stamp doesn't seem to be working correctly.
Most of my nightmares begin with me eating a tuna sandwich from a gas station.
I wonder how long it will take grandma to realize she's in a shed out back and not in the new nursing home I promised her.
I feel like a trained karate expert breaking a stack of blocks when I blow my nose.
The worst part about having an argument with one of my marionettes is having to get up and move him out of the room as he storms off.
Frodo was really just a glorified ring bearer for Mount Doom.
Tacos do so much damage to grandma's insides that she needs to sleep in the bathtub whenever she eats them.
Living on earth is a lot more exciting when you picture it as one giant beanbag.
Nothing ruins a day like having to put on pants.
I'm not opposed to bringing decapitation by guillotine back for people that cut their nails in public.
Do you remember the good old days when anteaters would just eat ants without questioning whether the ants were in your pants or not?
Going to the bathroom on a bus during rush hour traffic just feels weird especially since this bus doesn't have a bathroom.
For breakfast I want to belly flop into a pool of pancakes and eat my way out.
I'm getting on an airplane and all I can think about is how confused my boat shoes must be.
I'm depressed thinking about how many father-daughter dances Darth Vader and Princess Leia missed out on and what it's like to have friends.
I can't hear the fireworks over grandma's snoring.
I'm trying to decorate my house and I'm unsure about which window treatments go best with beanbags.
Either a golden retriever just invited me on a journey across the country in a hot air balloon or I've had way too much to drink.
This is all make believe like Bernoulli and his stupid principle.