Nothing says summer like hairy bears in sticky leather.
These are my dog’s sunglasses.
Bro, you have to tell me: Was she decent in the face?
So many people have Andrew Bird boners in here.
The bartenders at Whistler are one step away from being Amish.
This place makes me like the funeral-home silence of my office.
T.G.I. Friday’s is like being in the most obese, edible arcade.
He was on the Chicago bus with his pants half down, sitting on one of those dog-training pads.
Mother Goose? Never heard of that bitch.
I’m into any Hootie & the Blowfish song.
My dad and I got into the car, and it reeked like pot. I swear he is trying to get me to divorce him.