I immediately copy and pasted Penhaligon’s toilette set into the address bar to google it, because it sounded so awesome, then I realized it didn’t say toilet seat.

If I were God, I would ban the use of Yakety Sax for eternity. Kneel down and feel my wrath irritating world!

This is way more entertaining if you imagine that they’re chasing a backup goaltender that escaped from his pen.

Now I feel bad for naming my kid after him. Poor little Inghausen.

The “Hi Mom” wave just kills me.

It’s not open-air, but I’ll take if they can make it a bit taller.

No balcony, no deal.

I was thinking of him passed out drunk, pants around his his ankles, ass in a litterMaid. The little arm that clears the clears the poop away keeps coming up, only to be turned away again and again by his left butt-cheek.

That editing made me think it took off in reverse.

Why do you jump to such a negative conclusion? The man is a artisanal farmer.

You order the second least expensive wine on the list. You don’t want the waiter to thing you’re poor.

Every rose has it’s... Dildo slushy?

Yeah. My grandfather was a LeSabre enthusiast, if that’s a thing, buying a new on every 7 or 8 years. (My first car was on of his old ones). They were comfy, huge on the inside, and the engines were always quite peppy. They gave me a healthy respect for the hidden pleasures old people cars.

No worries.

At the risk of sounding stupid. What am I missing? Your reply has me so confused.

Caber toss. Schwingen. Australian rules quidditch.

No problems. I can be an overly sensitive jerk.

Yeah. It’s a joke.

Flipping the light switch downward.