And a budget tanning salon.

It’s pronounced, “lye-berry.” 

He hardly enjoys steak any more.

Alcohol-themed Mad Libs.

But the petulance, those few times she was wrong: she could be frightening.

“glory”

Anne Sacoolas, in a squeaky voice, after a nervous glance at John Daly, during which he manfully pursed his lips and leaned away from her: “Nooo...”

A monstrously huge high chair with a diapered, bespectacled Jay Olsen in it, and a slide trombone: wahhwahhhhhhhhwahhhhhhh.

Once a year, he scours factory floors to gather up all the leftover plastic parts that are stamped out of plastic Halloween masks to make eyeholes: $AVING$!

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“...in violation of all norms and decency...”

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Pls bring choc milk.

They can’t stand with him, can only ride their Rascals in little parade circles around him.

Oh, it’s gonna be yeet fire.

I giddily look forward to the day that Dancing With the Stars declines his agent’s offer to appear as a contestant. I will make a big fucking unfrosted white cake, push two little chocolate chips into the spongey top, and pretend I am eating his stupid head.

OBF? This is my favorite table I own:

Ethan has to be a serial killer. There’s no other possible outcome with those parents.

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I want an all marionette version. Marionettes made of raw meat.