I admit, Morgan said with another withering look, it's no donut.
Just like you silly bums, I have a personal sky god. I bow to him, as you do to your airy-fairy sod. He prefers I call him Mr. NOT.
Honestly I don't know why i have these partiesBecause of your catThat's true. Chairman Meow deserves my every effort
You still are? There go my plans! And the suit I had bought to attend your funeral. Well, well. Anyway, do call me up when you an't.
It sounded somewhat doom-laden, so I felt obliged to look it up more thoroughly, in case I should eat some chocolate rather quickly.
I get this buzz every time I'm quoted online. The ego high... yes... but also a Google Alert.
Bat stood in the open door and said I am a crime scene unit detective from the New York City Police Department, you heinous fucking mongoloid, and there is nothing I cannot do.
I do not want to sound cynical or condescending, but your lips are moving, your mind unbending.
What did the soup say to the tea plate? "You're too shallow for me. I like deep dish to dip right into!" I still keep my British humour in good taste. No room for egos or rumours.
The trouble with eating Italian is that 5 or 6 days later, you're hungry again.
Children throw tantrums because they've imagined their 'father in heaven' does so. And because, their inherited religious book has, in written, shown them so.