“I’ve got that grave plot. I’ve got that grave plot. It’s right off the highway.” —Lonely Island.
Help! I’m trapped in a prison cell of my own creation.
Best reserve these hijinks until October.
You lose a lot of weight since you’re too nauseous to eat at every meal.
I really wish I sprang for the 65". 55" feels small now, even though it dominates my tiny room and I sit 3 feet from it.
Sigh. I don’t remember the previous time(s) a cow was dropped on Verne. Shakes fist at faulty brain.
Red. I have more red shirts than any other color since it’s so unlikely to fade from washing or react to chlorine or benzoyl peroxide.
Next up: binge watch the Simpsons.