God. Being weird and eating mulch: two things I can’t abide.
He’s weird, and kind of a douche.
I would just wait until she got way too drunk and we’d put French fries on her head.
You are the hole in the table.
This coffee shop is this magical place where I don’t have to do anything, and all it costs me is the price of coffee. Except they’re starting to know me there and make small talk, so I have to find somewhere else to go now.
Is it because her name is too long?
Maybe it’s because her name is too dumb.