The rational solution here is to drain off the nasty green water, replace it with peroxide, then mount a toilet puck every five feet around the rim.
The water will be nice and blue like the water features at his favorite mini golf course, and it’ll smell just like his office.
Carry on old Obi-Wan- You’ll be a force ghost when your done-
Critics are hailing ‘The Diarrhea Clause’ as Tim Allen’s triumphant return to cinema.
All circuses, no bread.
Been spending the last 20 years at the Winchester, waiting for all this to blow over.
People are disappearing left and right! I need to tell the world about this before
I was going to say: There’s no space for dead, moved to Austin in the 10s, or crippling pain killer addiction.
Rockefeller recorded it in his own personal ledger?
I’m sure it was all on the up and up. Just like I paid taxes on all of my tips when I was getting paid cash for waiting tables.
(A joke, I realize Rockefeller did contribute quite a bit to the common good, at least once he was mind bendingly wealthy.)
I didn’t imagine a future where I’d have to jail break my mattress, but here we are.
Thankfully I’ve future-proofed my sleeping situation by crashing on a pile of towels in my ex-wife’s parents summer cottage.
Philip k. Dick, in his novel Ubik, described the main character being trapped in his apartment because the front door required a .25 fee to open and the MC had to trick the door in order to leave his own home.
There’s a lot more than that in the book. It would be interesting to see someone try and fail to make a film out of it.
Careful what you wish for. Imagine how great a hallucinating washing machine might handle your delicates.
I was just wondering if you were going to be able to get me some proper rubble for the kids and I will be there in a few minutes if you want to meet me at the park.
Or being bothered by police for walking in a car only zone.
I worked at a high street clothing store in the 10’s and all of the clothes on the clearance rack past a certain amount of time was Ragged Out (slashed up with razors and discarded into a locked dumpster)
They wouldn’t donate the clothes because it would hurt brand image if poor people were seen slobbing around in them.
Had a hairless rat briefly that we called Sir Scrote.
I’m doing my part!
Somewhat related: earbuds for human sized rabbits would be huge.
I forget, did they rename Dijon mustard during the Freedom Fries era?
Now I know why EVERY battery powered toy I was ever given never got fresh batteries. I would memorize the sound effects so that I could make believe they were still functional once they died.
I suppose I did the same thing with my father.