Whittling
Or being whittled, anyway.
Blog
To sum it up, he/she/they/them/it isn’t/aren’t working.
But we are.
I’ll tell you next week.
Assuming I’m able.
Don’t worry, there’s plenty of pizza and pasta.
Still rippling.
You know, like an eel leaves when it comes to the surface.
Where’s the hidden camera?
What exactly is your game, mister?
The universe has got my back.
Despite any mild panic.
I want some of you to know this guy. Or even just one of you.
Fingers crossed.
I’ll trade you $35 for ten or fifteen thousand.
Or even less. It’s fine with me.
Do I dare?
Evidently, I do.