You hug your dad. “How was traffic on The 95?” you say. You see him falter for a second and you quickly correct yourself. “Sorry,” you say, laughing. “It’s an LA thing. How was traffic on ninety-five?”
You hug your dad. “How was traffic on The 95?” you say. You see him falter for a second and you quickly correct yourself. “Sorry,” you say, laughing. “It’s an LA thing. How was traffic on ninety-five?”
“Melanie,” says Elroy, flashing a smile that might be alluring if I were blind. “Relax. It’s just dinner.” He plucks a long black hair from one of his facial warts. “Let’s get you a drink.”
You did a good handshake and exchanged pleasantries. You told her your name. You asked where she’s from. Let me tell you: That’s a good start!
“George Clooney was struck by lightning and you suffered a blow to the head.” Brad Pitt gives him a thumbs up. “And now you can’t stop speaking and acting like your characters from Ocean’s 11.”
Your student loan officer is a woman named Brenda who holds the phone in such a way that you can hear each keystroke in her quest to “move some stuff around” and get you an installment plan that “makes sense for everybody.”
Pollack-Surrey Reverse Gay Conversion Therapy Camp is a week-long retreat designed to reprogram your sexual circuitry and make you a healthier, happier you. Did it work for me? You bet your gay ass it did.
I mean, yeah, there’s always going to be somebody more successful than you by whatever metric you choose to measure success. That’s not what this is about. I don’t care that he’s like, wicked rich and famous or whatever.
Bethany told me not to snoop. It’s a breach of trust, she said. Yeah, well, you know what else is a breach of trust, Greg? Sleeping with Chloe Daniels.
Garth is telling Steven that he wants to sit in the corner seat because that’s how you know you won’t get shot in the back by someone who walks into the saloon and wants to shoot you in the back.
“You’re interested in the position,” he says. I begin to sweat extremely carefully.
Careful, though. You don’t want to come off as desperate. So after you shout the compliment, drive away as quick as you can.
The Factory, unfathomable in size and complexity, is where humans are made. This is the first lesson each angel learns upon arrival. The second lesson: God likes to delegate.
Stephen Pearl, a black man, was pulled over for speeding in his 2011 Hyundai Elantra and safely subdued by police via fatal gunfire last night.
“I’ll give you Wendy Gutierrez for Jason Quince,” said Mr. Spitz. Mrs. Stevens laughed. “Dream on,” she said. “I picked up Quince straight out of first grade. Gutierrez bounced around second for what, a full year?”
I’m actually a vegetarian and even if I wasn’t, fat chance I’d go to a hot dog cart—everything you need to know about hot dogs you can learn from the hot dog episode of How It's Made.
Barry didn’t consider himself the prime mover of this divorce—he considered himself a failed failsafe. In other words, Barry felt like the shield generator on the forest moon of Endor.
We don’t care what Zorg’s parents said. Don’t roll your eye. While you’re living in our pod, you play by our rules. And anyone living in our pod doesn’t go sneaking off at two in the morning to play UFOs.
William Shakespeare watched the pigeon’s trajectory and flinched at the sound of Sorkin’s gun. The clay exploded in midair. Shakespeare whistled. “Nice shot, Aaron.”
“Shinto,” I say, reciting from memory the Wikipedia article I read earlier today. “An ethnic religion of the people of Japan.” Jennifer looks around frantically, as if a Japanese person might have snuck in while she wasn’t looking.