5 Kinds of People Who Take "Apples to Apples" Too Seriously
What do you mean “too obvious”? It’s obvious because that’s exactly what it is. The Great Depression was, in fact, sad. It was an empirically sad time for everybody. No other word here even comes close to the heart of raw sadness, you guys. For one thing, what does depression mean? Okay, now what about a state of depression so deep and all-encompassing—not just economically, but physically, mentally, spiritually—a depression so deep that it requires a capitalized title preceded by an article? Yeah. Pretty sad, no? That’s not even taking into account what it must have been like just to be alive during the decade leading up to World War II. Like, what did you eat for breakfast this morning? Well, back then, your stupid French Vanilla Chobani would’ve fed a family of six.
See what I did there? Do you see? Oh, come on. Picking Your Nose isn’t distinguished? Haha, I know. I know! That’s exactly the point! I could have used NYPD or Frank Lloyd Wright if I just wanted to prove that I know what words mean. Would that have been funny, though? About as funny as a bucket of koala bear teardrops. I can’t believe you’re going to ignore the one option here that’s clearly an irreverent goof. Oh, whatever. You wouldn’t know ‘funny’ if it embraced you like a lover in the cool of the evening and made Belgian waffles the next day. Furthermore: wocka wocka. I rest my case.
No, seriously, hear me out. I know that, to the naked eye, it doesn’t seem like there’s any connection, but sometimes you’ve got to put clothes on the eye in order to see. Let me spit some serious eye-clothes at you right now. Okay. There are many ways in which A Bad Hair Day could be patriotic. For one thing, imagine that I paid for the bad haircut just to avoid the awkwardness of demanding a freebie, and then I probably bought a hat too. Well, it’s a capitalist society, bros, and my shitty haircut is making it thrive. Like a patriot does. Let me just state for the record too that, historically, many of our presidents have had atrocious haircuts. Have you seen William Henry Harrison? And why do you think you haven’t? Nope, it’s because nobody wanted to photograph the guy—his head was a tornado of raccoon tails. Never mind the fact that George Washington looked like Chigurh from No Country For Old Men. Also, statistically, it’s possible that a majority of military personnel come from families who in-source their haircuttery to help make ends meet, and it’s not like a buzz-cut is all that flattering anyway so…
Damn straight, Worms are frivolous. They do what they like and they like what they do. How does nobody get this?
Whoever’s Losing Hardest
Yes, yes. Oranges are exactly like the word goody-goody. Totally. Either eating oranges, or just having them around—that’s what a goody-goody does, because… Look, I know it doesn’t make much sense, but what really does make sense in this crazy workaday world we’re all trying to get through in one piece? Just pick mine already, man. Don’t make me sit here with no wins like this, it’s fucking embarrassing. Oranges are at least as representative of a goody-goody as what Todd put down. I mean, Helen Keller just wanted to stay alive and keep her family safe; she didn’t necessarily rat out the cheaters in her math class or whatever. You gotta give me that. Todd already has three cards. He doesn’t need this. And Helen Keller doesn’t need it either—she’s got props from like 60 years worth of middle school teachers. Oh, so you’re gonna give it to Todd? Seriously? You’re gonna give it to Todd? Great, give it to Todd. This game is garbage.
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It’s the end of the year so you know what that means: it’s time for end-of-the-year album “Best Ofs”!
Your love. Your passion. Your taste. That’s the reason you’re here. You still belong, even if you don’t feel like it right now. Your taste can be killer even if your ability is questionable.
There are a multitude of misconceptions about the service industry and I feel it is my duty to set a few of them straight.
One should never look like they’re trying too hard, especially not when they’re in the midst of trying so hard they’re giving themselves an ulcer.