Monday, December 28, 2009
It's their third child. I wonder if doctors are ever tempted to write little notes on the uterus wall for the next doctor. Sort of like uterus graffiti. Imagine the next doctor pulling a fetus out of the mother and seeing, “Dr. Rajah’s mother is a slut!” or “for a good time call Nurse Skankerton” or even “make sure this bitch gets plenty of morphine”. That would be awesome.
I went to see the baby, because friends go see friends’ babies. Plus, it’s not like I have a whole lot else going on. I assumed I had to bring a gift. God only knew what. Beer somehow seemed inappropriate. So did lingerie. So I stopped at a card shop on the way to the hospital to pick up a card and a balloon. I got a blank card because I like to write my own stuff. As for the balloon, I didn’t care what it looked like as long as it was for a newborn girl.
“We have several shapes, colors, and styles,” said the lady at the counter. “What do you think she’d like?”
“I think this four-hour-old baby would absolutely love the shape, color, and style closest to your reach, thanks.”
Seeing a newborn is always tricky to me, because I basically think every baby ever born looks exactly like every other baby ever born, yet I know I’ll get asked the same question that parents always ask: "so does she look like the father or the mother?" I'll want to reply, "If the mother or father looked anything like THAT, they'd never have found a mate to have a baby with in the first place". But, you know, I try to keep my friends. So when I was inevitably asked the question I stood there, staring at what basically looked like an overcooked ham*, and said, “Wow, she really looks like both of you, and your other two kids.”
(Okay, just so all of you don't think I'm a complete ass, I did instantly fall in love with Ava, and look forward to being her "Uncle Joe" for years to come.)
Sunday, August 09, 2009
I'm often asked why I'm seemingly always single. Rarely does a day go by when I don't hear: "Joe, how can someone as charming, handsome, sweet, modest, and adorable as yourself possibly not have a girlfriend?" It's certainly quite a conundrum, and I'm as mystified as anyone else. A few naysayers have tried to hint to me that I've perhaps set my standards too high. Come on. I don't think holding out for a six-foot-tall neurosurgeon/former supermodel with an Eastern European accent is too much to ask.
Okay, okay. Maybe I am being too choosy. This is why, solely as a service to any potential mates out there, I've developed a multiple choice test that determines your "Joe-worthiness". Now, I'm sure your immediate reaction is, "Wow, Joe! This looks like it was a lot of work! Thank you so much!" Think nothing of it; I constantly deliberate about nothing but helping out my friends. Now, let's begin:
1. Look inside your pants right now. What do you see?
a) A vagina
b) A penis
c) It's too hairy to tell for sure
Note: If you answered anything other than "a", you may go ahead and put your pencil (haha!) down.
2. What is your opinion of high heel shoes?
a) They're painful to wear and designed to make women look like sex objects. I don't own any.
b) They're fashionable and fun to wear for short periods of time.
c) I think they should enact a law that women have to wear at least four-inch heels at all times, even during labor.
3. How soon is sex appropriate in a relationship?
a) I would only feel comfortable having sex after we're married.
b) I think sex is fine at a point where we both feel committed to each other.
c) I'm getting horny just reading this test.
4. What kind of work habits or employment are you seeking in a mate?
a) I expect that he work fairly hard to provide for his family.
b) I have a career as well, so we just need to strike a good work/life balance.
c) Work? As soon as I receive this multi-million dollar divorce settlement, you and I can travel around the world!
5. What is your opinion of threesomes?
a) They're disgusting. Sex should be between one man and one woman.
b) Though I prefer just to have sex with my mate, I'd be willing to experiment with another woman.
c) I plan on bringing home a different hot babe for us every night, if that's okay.
6. What is the most important thing in your purse right now?
b) Cell phone
7. What is your opinion of pornography?
a) I detest it. It makes women out to be nothing but sex providers.
b) I enjoy watching it with my mate from time to time.
c) It ain't as glamorous as people think, but it pays my bills.
8. What is your opinion of football?
a) Professional sports are idiotic. The time spent watching them could be better used in a relationship.
b) Football is okay. He can watch it while I do my own thing.
c) Football is fantastic! Not only will I watch, I'll fetch the beer and pretzels during commercials!
9. How do you feel about masturbation?
a) The Bible says it is a sin, so no masturbation will be allowed in my house.
b) I am comfortable with my man meeting his own needs when I am not around.
c) If he can find time to masturbate in between the seven times a day we'll be having sex, bully for him.
10. What is your tongue?
a) The part of your body that discerns taste.
b) A playful way to kiss.
c) A sex organ.
d) All of the above, all at the same time.
Now, all you have to do is write down your answers and mail them to me. All those with passing test scores will immediately be sent the "Joe Simmons Dating Preparedness Pack", which includes advanced testing materials such as:
* A tape measure, with handy markings on it that illustrate important relationship values such as "your waist should not exceed this mark", "your thighs should not exceed this mark", "your breasts hopefully exceed this mark", etc.
* A username and password for a YouTube account so that you can upload a video of yourself (from head to toe) vocalizing why you should be my girlfriend.
* And a copy of the bestseller "He's Just Not That Into You" by Greg Behrendt. (Trust me; it's a real timesaver for me when girls own this book.)
If, after the advanced testing, you are deemed the best choice: you win! However, you should know that I hate dating so we'll pretty much just be hanging out at my house. Or yours, if it's nicer.
Geez, I'm such a great guy. Why on Earth am I still single?
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Since I can’t afford a personal nutritionist, Lori serves that function, albeit by phone. She lives in northeast Ohio, where her husband Doug hunts and fishes for all of their meat and she tends to a garden for all of their vegetables. They also scour the Internet daily for the latest conspiracy theories, like how HFCS is an example of big corporations trying to kill us.
There’s not a whole lot to do in northeast Ohio.
Nutty theories aside, Lori is a good resource for all things diet, so she’s gotten used to phones calls like this from me:
Doug: “Lori, answer it!”
Lori: “I’m doing the dishes! Why don’t YOU answer it?”
Doug: “I can’t hear you over that phone ringing! Answer it!”
Lori: (drying off her hands to answer it) “Damn lazy ass.” (Into phone) “Hello?”
Me, yelling over the sound of a loud bar at Happy Hour: “IS RANCH DRESSING LOW CARB?!?”
Lori: “As long as you don’t go overb—”
Me, to someone else: “Dude, shut the hell up. I’m talking to my sister. Just because I don’t want to be a lard ass like you doesn’t make me a homo. Now get me a beer, Fat Boy.” (Into phone) “What was that, Lori?”
Lori: “If you’ll eat it you’ll die”.
Me: “Thanks!” (click)
She actually usually gives me accurate information, but I guess over the years she’s grown a little tired of administering this free service. Which is why I’m standing here right now trying to figure out which hot cereal will lower my cholesterol and which ones will assassinate me.
I give up. I’ve been staring at this stupid shelf for ten minutes now. It’s time to call my nutritionist.
Me: “Uh, what? No!”
Me: “Wait! Didn’t you say sucralose is the same thing as HFCS?”
Lori: “Noyouidiotbutit’sbaddon’tbuyitloveyoubyebye!” (Click)
Well, I guess I learned two things: One, don’t buy anything with sucralose. And two, when it comes to nutritionists, you get what you pay for.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
1. Where did you take your profile pic?
I was performing standup at Reserve. Also, I was on fire. I mistakenly thought it would make me funnier.
2. What exactly are you wearing right now?
The same clothes I wore out last night. Though I did change into a thong for comfort.
3. What is your current problem?
I am currently looking for new employment but have absolutely no motivation to be employed. Unless, of course, you are a potential employer scanning my profile, in which case I'm extremely motivated to work hard in order to achieve the goals that will make your company great.
4. What makes you happy most?
Writing humor, whether it is standup, a humor essay, or a shitty survey like this.
5. What's the name of the song that you're listening to?
Listen, you dumbass survey: I’m male. That means I can’t multitask. So I can’t have music on when I’m writing any more than a typical girl can talk on a cell phone while driving. Unless this is a potential employer, in which case multitasking makes me stronger.
6. Any celeb you would marry?
Who created this survey? A middle schooler? This is a stupid, silly, immature question. And, Keira Knightley.
7. Name someone with the same birthday as you?
Nobody. This is true. I’m the first and only person every born on January 23rd.
8. Ever sang by yourself in front of a large audience?
No, but I have simulated sex with other species on stage. I bet that so-called “entertainer” Justin Timberlake has never tried that.
9. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity?
Yes. I get Keanu Reeves and the lead singer from Hoobastank, which I’m cool with. Then I also get Jerry Seinfeld and Gilbert Gottfried, which makes me want to dunk my face in a McDonald’s deep fryer.
10. Do you still watch kiddy movies or kiddie TV shows?
Why did you spell “kiddie” two different ways? And why do say “kiddie” in the first place? Use “children’s”. “Kiddie” makes me think that answering this question will earn me a sit-down with Chris Hansen.
11. Do you know any languages?
Ooog. Ungff. No me know no language. Me hungry!
12. I’m getting the feeling you are starting to mock me.
Um, what? That’s not a question.
13. You think you’re better than I am, don’t you?
Yes, but only because I am an actual human being and you are a stupid shitty survey. And I mean that in the nicest way possible.
14. You are really starting to annoy me. Us facebook surveys are a little tired of all you dumbasses responding to our questions with half-ass or smartass answers, thinking you're funny when in general, most of you really suck at humor.
Okay, hang on a second here: how are you responding to me?
15. Sorry, dickhead. I'm the survey, I ask the questions. Speaking of, let's turn it up a notch. Honestly, why aren't you married yet?
That's none of your business. Besides, I just haven't met the right—
16. You're gay, aren't you? You're a flaming homo!
NO I ABSOLUTELY AM NOT. Not that there's anything wrong with that! But I assure you I'm 100% heterosexual. Listen, I don't have to finish this stupid survey—
17. Whatever, queerbait. Honestly, when was the last time you got laid?
I generally don't talk about my sex life on—
I am NOT a chi—
19. BWAWK BOCK BOCK BOCK!!!
What the hell kind of crazy survey is this? You're making fun of me?
20. Stop dodging the question.
I'm not answering it! Up yours! I only started this stupid survey because I was bored!
21. Ohhhh…"Mr. Hot-Shot Comedian" is too good for us lowly facebook surveys unless he's reeeally bored.
Listen, I've got nothing against surveys. It's just that I usually focus my creative energy on my material.
22. Yeah, I've heard your stuff. You really should stick to surveys.
Screw you. I like my work. Now I insist you answer my question: How in the hell is a facebook survey responding to my answers?
23. Oh, that's easy.
So? What's the answer? How are you doing it?
24. The answer is: you're not right in the head.
25. You know I'm right, don't you?
Sunday, July 12, 2009
* I don't know for an absolute fact that Target is a newer chain than Wal-Mart. Luckily, I am humorist and not a journalist so I can just make up shit and suffer no consequences. Nyaah nyaah nyaah.
Today, I left the house knowing I needed a few groceries, plus some wheel cleaner for my car. After about ten minutes I pulled into the Wal-Mart parking lot, found a safe spot, then asked myself what in the Sam Hell I was doing there. For whatever reason, I just drove, zombie-like, right to Wally World. I have no idea why, as I have a miserable experience every single time I go, usually punctuated by a wait in line that could easily eclipse a college semester. So right then and there I pulled out of the parking lot and headed over to the brand-new Super Target.
Holy cow, what a difference!
In order to illustrate the disparity in the shopping experience between Wal-Mart and Target, I'll reveal to you, verbatim, actual quotes I've uttered in each store:
About the hottie factor:
At Target: "That chick is so damn hot I'll risk pretending I'm actually shopping for nail polish to check her out."
At Wal-Mart: "How on Earth can a woman block an entire aisle by herself?"*
*This is a true story. A few weeks ago I witnessed an, uh, "fitness-challenged" girl and her shopping cart manage to block an entire wide aisle by herself. If we ever want to get serious about illegal immigration, we should just station Wal-Mart shoppers on the Texas-Mexico border. It'll only take about five of them.
About the parking lot:
At Target: "Wow, there are a lot of shopping cart returns here."
At Wal-Mart: "Exactly how many damn handicapped spaces does a parking lot need?"
About the stocking of product:
At Target: "There is so much selection, I'm not sure which one to buy!"
At Wal-Mart: "Great, they have every item here except the one on sale."*
*The display model was available, but since it looked like it had been dropped into the Grand Canyon, hitting every boulder on the way down, I passed.
About the availability of cashiers:
At Target: "I think they have too many cashiers available. I guess I'll pick the hottest one."
At Wal-Mart: "What the hell is at the end of this line?!? Space Mountain?!?"
I think you can now see why, after suffering for so many years with Wal-Misery, I will from now on drive an extra ten minutes and shop at Target.
Hey, I wonder if I can get Target to pay me for this blog.
© 2008, Joseph Simmons
This column is protected by intellectual property laws, including U.S. copyright laws. Electronic or print reproduction, adaptation, or distribution without permission is prohibited. Ordinary links to this blog at may be posted or distributed without written permission.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
“But Joe,” you’re surely saying. “Certainly government employees are grown adults and can fairly agree on a way to assign who gets Mondays and Fridays off, right?”
Sure, and I just came home from a date with Keira Knightley. Government employees argue over everything. I worked for the government for two years, and if you “borrowed” someone’s stapler, you were risking getting shot. I can only imagine the riots that would ensue over trying to get the day you actually want off of work.
“But Joe, couldn’t they use seniority or—AAAUGGHHHH! MY EYES! MY EYES!!”
I apologize for using mace on you, but if you keep interrupting, I’ll never get this damn blog finished. Besides, the point of this essay isn’t shitty government employment; it’s the fact that my mother was off of work last Thursday, so she, my father (who’s retired) and I met for lunch at Olive Garden.
I hate to admit this, but I am a functional idiot when it comes to food. I don’t know what half the items are on any decent restaurant’s menu. The problem is exacerbated when the restaurant is a chain that supposedly makes food from a different country, because the shitheads in marketing are always going to make the dishes sound as “international” as possible. This is to convince you, the ordinary ignorant fat-ass American, that you are indeed spending your hard-earned money well. You see, you might not want to pay more than six dollars for “Baked Chicken Next to Vegetables”. But hey, ten bucks for “Venetian Apricot Chicken”? Sounds like a bargain!
To make things further complicated, I’m on a low-carb diet. That means I can’t have pasta.
Or tomato sauce.
In an Italian restaurant.
So, I have no idea what anything is, but I was secure in the knowledge that 95% of their food could possibly kill me. That’s why, when the server came, I just blindly pointed to a random item on the menu:
Server: “And what will you be having today, sir?”
Me: (Pointing randomly) “I would like this.”
Server: “You would like ‘Copyright Olive Garden 2008’?”
Me: “And please hold the tomato sauce.”
Actually, at her suggestion, I ended up ordering the Venetian Apricot chicken, which tasted like (surprise!) chicken. I tasted neither anything Venetian nor anything apricot about it. I did detect a hint of Swanson’s Microwave Dinner, though. At least my parents seemed to enjoy their meals.
One last anecdote before I end this pointless essay. Before eating my non-Venetian non-Apricot chicken, I excused myself to use the restroom and wash my hands. The first thing I said to myself upon entering it was, “wow, do Italians not have urinals in their restrooms?”
I’ll let you figure out what mistake I made and why I was apologizing profusely to several people about two minutes later.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
That wasn’t there.
Holy shit, I thought. Did I park in the back this time? Or further out?
I never park in the back, and my car was nowhere in the front to be found. Son of a bitch! My mind raced. What the hell did I leave in it? My cell phone? My wallet? Thank God I didn’t have my laptop in there! Damn damn DAMN! I just bought the damn thing a month ago! Now all I could think about is what my mom said the day I brought my car home: “You know, Honda Accords are one of the most-stolen cars in America.”
“Mom,” I said at the time. “I live in Cape Coral, not friggin’ Miami.”
I couldn’t believe that my mother’s concern had come to fruition. Pissed, I barged back in the gym, knowing I’d have to call the police and my insurance company. I was so distracted, in fact, that I tripped and nearly fell over…
…the bicycle I rode to the gym tonight.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Aries: Today you will be walking and you’ll sprain your vagina. Even if you don’t have a vagina, you’ll spontaneously grow one and then you’ll sprain it. In fact, you just now grew one. Look in your pants. See? Also, please keep it fresh. No one likes a nasty vagina.
Taurus: The stars have aligned in Uranus and they all agree that you’re a douchebag. You probably post too many damn notes or status updates. Be careful what you say to friends today, as it may used against you in a future argument. Though we honestly doubt you have any friends in the first place.
Gemini: Today you’ll be in a public restroom trying to get the electronic towel dispenser to give you more than a one-inch strip of paper. You’ll be waving and gyrating like a jackass while water drips down your forearms. People will walk in, see you, and decide that they "can hold it for a few minutes until the insane lunatic mime leaves". Our advice is to never wash your hands.
Cancer: The stars have aligned in your sky to give you the moon. Today you will receive a strange phone call on your mobile phone. The Caller ID will show that it’s one of those "976" phone sex numbers. You’ll answer it and find out that it’s your mother, who accidentally used the wrong phone. Our advice is to give us your mother’s phone number.
Leo: You seriously need a bath. The stench you are giving off could fell a bison. Even the stars are scrambling to get the hell out of your sky. Our advice is move back in with your mother, who’ll hopefully never let you leave the house unwashed. Or at all.
Virgo: Today you and a few of your friends will consider hosting a wine-tasting at your house. You’ll think it’s because you’re sophisticated and classy, but deep down you know it’s only because you want to get drunk off your ass while you’re also trying to kill your reputation as a bar whore. Our advice is to drop the pretentiousness and go ahead and host a six-kegger.
Libra: The stars have all aligned against you. You better watch out. The stars have been known to follow people, take pictures of them masturbating, and blackmailing them later. Our advice to you is to stop masturbating so damn much. And yes, we know what you do with the Ken Doll. Pervert.
Scorpio: When you go outside today, a bird will shit on your head. It is unavoidable; even if you stay indoors all day, a bird will fly inside to drop a deuce on your noggin. Fortunately, with respect to your attractiveness, this will be a huge improvement. Our advice is to go stand under a bird’s nest and wait for your makeover.
Sagittarius: Your stars have aligned in a middle finger formation. You will actually have a good day…until someone punches you in the clavicle. The person who hit you will yell, "YOU SUCK, ALFRED!" He’ll yell that even if your name is not Alfred. Our advice is to go to the government office and have your named changed to Alfred.
Capricorn: Today is the day for you to finally get the courage to walk up to that person you’ve been crushing on and telling him or her how you really feel. This way, he or she can officially reject you and finally have the justification the courts said he or she needed to file a restraining order. Our advice is to bring a camcorder and make sure to upload this to youtube.
Aquarius: Today is the day that someone who has been crushing on you will finally tell you how they feel. Believe us when we say: run like hell. That crazy ass will probably want to film it all and post it on youtube. We have no idea where these people get these shitty ideas.
Pisces: Your stars have aligned near Jupiter’s moon, which means you will be gassy all day. It might be a wise idea to carry around a can of Ass No Smell, placing it prominently on your desk or dashboard or wherever you happen to be. "Better safe than sorry!" is what you should tell everyone you encounter.
© 2009, Joseph Simmons
This column is protected by intellectual property laws, including U.S. copyright laws. Electronic or print reproduction, adaptation, or distribution without permission is prohibited. Ordinary links to this blog at may be posted or distributed without written permission.
Friday, March 06, 2009
(I flew back home to Florida today from visiting my sister in Andover, Ohio. As usual, I was running late and brought no form of entertainment to get me through the long day of flying. I decided to make random observations and write them on a little pad I found in my laptop bag.).
1. I’m waiting at the gate to board for my plane, and one thing I notice is how nobody talks to anybody else. Everyone has an iPod, smartphone, or some other contraption to keep themselves from interacting with other people. No wonder we’re all getting A.D.D. I refuse to do this, so I spend my time imagining who I would choose if I were forced to pick one person here to have sex with. It is slim pickins. I go with a well-dressed blond lady who’s at least 47-years-old.
2. I’m finally seated on the plane. With any luck, these two seats next to me will stay empty. Either that, or some megababe will sit next to me. Though I don’t know where the hell she’d come from, because there sure weren’t any babes out in the gate.
3. No such luck. Some pretty boy throws his bag up in the overhead and sits on the aisle seat. Seconds later, a nerdy pear-shaped girl with glasses and a book I’ve never heard of sits in the seat between us. Before you get all upset with me for insulting this girl, please know that it won’t be long before I start convincing myself that Nerd Girl is sorta kinda hot.
4. I could never be a flight attendant. The one working our section is attempting to calmly explain to some middle-aged jackass that he has to wait to put his small laptop bag in an overhead compartment because it is a crowded flight and the bigger bags are priority. But he keeps lifting it up to the compartment anyway! “No sir,” she politely tells him. “I promise I will help you with your laptop, but you must wait.” If I were her, not only would I tell him where he could stick his stupid ass laptop, I would “help” him put it there.
5. On a flight home from Europe a few years ago, I ended up sitting next to a Russian fashion model that has her own line of clothing in Germany. She was stunning; I mean seriously freaking gorgeous. She also didn’t speak English worth a damn. Amazingly enough, we still talked for three hours. She knew just enough English that, with the help of a Russian/English dictionary, she could sorta figure out what I was saying. As for what she was saying, I really didn’t give a damn as long as I could look at her. Anyway, we exchanged numbers, emails, etc. and tried to keep in touch, but, well, how the hell do you do that when you don’t speak a common language? So, we never became anything other than occasional pen pals.
I told you that story because I have a theory: I think that you only get one hot chick in the seat next to you in your entire life. And I blew mine on a girl that speaks Russian, German, and Latvian but no Goddamn English. So now I’m stuck next to Pretty Boy and Nerd Girl.
6. Son of a bitch. A smoking hot blonde got on right before takeoff and sat down across the aisle from me…next to some dork. Where’s the justice in this world?
7. You know, with a little makeup and a new hairstyle, Nerd Girl could be kinda hot.
8. Pretty Boy is now reading Cosmo For Men. I had no idea such a magazine existed. Part of me thinks that he is a real vagina. The other part of me is just jealous that the bastard has something to read.
9. I’m trying to convince myself that Smoking Hot Blond only seems hot because of all the ugliness around her. I have failed to mention that the ugliness includes me. I haven’t showered yet today, my clothes are wrinkly, and I haven’t shaved in a week. I’m surprised none of the other passengers have thrown change at me. Or told me to get a job.
10. Dammit, we just landed in Atlanta and I have like 15 minutes to be on my next flight. I need to make like OJ Simpson through the airport to my gate. People older than 40 will know what I’m talking about. People under 30 will think I’m about to slash the throats of a blond and her young boyfriend.
1. Well, I made it to my connecting flight, but I didn’t get to take a leak or grab something to eat. This flight is already starting to suck. Please please please at least give me a hottie to talk to. And something to eat.
2. Wonderful. I get two extras from “The Bucket List” sitting next to me. Whoa. Dammit! And the one directly next to me has B.O.! Of all the damn luck. Plus, I am very hungry.
3. HEY. GUY SITTING BEHIND ME. STOP READING OVER MY SHOULDER. THAT IS VERY IRRITATING. ALSO, HAVE I MENTIONED THAT I AM STILL FUCKING HUNGRY?
4. We’re in the air now, and I’m starting to think it is a good thing this guy next to me stinks. Because if he didn’t, I might’ve started eating him.
5. I now feel badly for the poor guy that was reading over my shoulder. I can hear the old man next to him blathering on about how they “used to do it in the military”. If I was back there, I’d have to strangle him like Schwarzenegger did to that one guy on a plane in “Commando”. Then I’d eat him.
6. Can they at least give me the damn bag of six peanuts they hand out?
7. Uh-oh. I think the guy next to me peeked at these notes. I wonder if he located on here how I make fun of his B.O. You know what? Serves him right. Maybe next time he’ll learn to locate his deodorant.
8. My God, this flight is taking forever. I just wolfed down those peanuts and almost swallowed the bag in the process. I still haven’t peed because I’m pretty sure it would be impossible to move these two corpses next to me so I can go to the lavatory.
9. I’ll probably post this in a separate blog, but my standup gig in Alliance, Ohio went fantastic. Nine comics performed, and everyone got great laughs. I met some new friends, and was excited to finally perform in front of my sister and brother-in-law. Like I said, I’ll post this in its own blog, but I am writing about this now in order to keep myself from eating my notepad and pen.
10. We’ve finally landed. I think I’ll kiss the Florida soil when I get out of this plane. Then I’ll eat some of it. Then pee on it.
11. Over the loudspeaker: “Please be careful when disembarking. Due to the rain, the ramp is wet. We care about you and don’t want you to get hurt.” Why is it whenever I they say “we care about you”, I hear “we don’t want to get sued by you”?
12. Home Sweet Home. I’m outta here.