Grandpa always used to make me ride in the bed of his pickup truck, so he could keep up his conversations with the 100-pound sack of manure he kept buckled up in the passenger seat. Grandpa said all they ever talked about was grass, but I know Grandpa used to do a little flirting, too
I think every teenager faces the hardship of trying to fit in with their friends, even though some of their friends might have hairier chests than them, hang out on the street all night long, and might also be spayed or neutered.
Her attempts to woo me back were downright pathetic, if you want to know the truth. First she wouldn’t return any of my calls, and then she starts dating other guys. What’s next, a restraining order? Nothing says “I Love You” like having to get a court to order so that person A does not to get within so many feet of person B, just because person B knows they can’t stay away from person A, so they have others force them into distancing themselves from the relationship.
I would rather love a woman for eternity than drive a car that got 37 miles to the gallon and run out of gas in the middle of the desert because my passenger decided to huff a half-tank of gas before our trip. But I guess I’ve always been somewhat of a romantic.
In high school, my nickname was “Pizza face.” This was not only due to my acne, but also because I used to superglue sautéed mushrooms to my forehead.
If Father Time were to kidnap Monday, I’ll bet only Tuesday would be willing to pay ransom. And not because Tuesday likes Monday, but because if Monday disappeared, then everybody would then hate Tuesday.
I remember in middle school, the rival gang called themselves, “The Scorpions.” So our gang decided to call ourselves, “The Desert,” just to let them know that no matter where they went, they were always on our territory.
