Unlike the evolution of horticulture or weaponry, the concept of modesty didn't evolve. It arrived on the scene fully developed. Either you believed your genitals needed to be concealed or you didn't. The following is a dramatization of that event.
I felt an energy, a power such as I had never before experienced surging through me from my hands, those hands that had elevated mere food to art. I was, I felt, what I had always been meant to be: a celebrity chef.
To prep you for your impending foray to a sports bar, below I've compiled a guide of the five people you can expect to see when you do venture off to Prime Time (which is the name of roughly 70 percent of the sports bars in this country).
I would like to manifest the following dreams: a never-ending bottle of Maker's Mark, morning sex (after we shower, but not before he pays me), and for the world to appreciate Royal Stevenson, the title character in my new webseries, Royal Sabotage.
Gavin McInnes's memoir How To Piss in Public is one that I highly recommend. It's not only insanely hilarious in a mental hospital sort of way but it's also so outlandishly offensive that you get tricked into thinking it is totally politically correct.
Are you pregnant? Feeling sick? Have a fever? Itching from a rash? Swelling of various body parts? The Republican Party wants to be your doctor. This is the place to get your state-ordered Gardasil shots and mandated pre-abortion ultrasounds.
When I asked about states that do not have official fruits such as Pennsylvania or New Mexico, Mr. Assef assured me that Mr. Cantu has created stamps out of indigenous fruits in those states, so New Mexico gets prickly pear and South Dakota gets gooseberries.