Where am I supposed to get my basic black velcro sneaks at now?
A.Hippo
a-hippo
Posted a story about the Black Panther nominations to our company Facebook yesterday morning, then spent all day deleting the bitter, angry comments from sad, salty old white nerds.
They really could have captioned these pictures “Left to right: The evil one and her not-too-bright buttkissing friend”
I know, right? Dumbass food blog, blogging about food and stuff.
You get mad at fog?
Cool cool, so y’all voices of reason are cool with robbing a grave, so you’re definitely good with corporations, and living millionaires and billionaires, as well as living trusts, paying full taxes, right?
T’Chad doesn’t look entirely sold on the idea, either—or maybe he just has dead eyes.
Perhaps he’s got this type of “board” in mind?
He stormed out of the Oval, walked into an anteroom just off the Oval Office and had in his hand a folder of briefing papers. And he just scattered them out of frustration. Threw them across the room.
Well, you’ve got me there. Everyone knows that if you’re not a huge success as a writer by the time you’re 30-ish, your best days are behind you.
Yes, but when she moves on to another job in publishing and/or journalism, as so many others from the GawkModo group have done, she’ll be “Megan Reynolds, *New Title Here*”; when these guys move on, they’ll be “X, formerly of Pentatonix.”
This is the bunch that did a cover of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” for a Christmas album, yes?
I can remember my parents and grandparents eating ice cream with saltines, especially homemade hand-cranked middle of summer ice cream.
Really? I do:
To be fair, after his staff told him that Kenneth Parcell wasn’t available, he had to do something: