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Private Notes
The internet can be an awful place sometimes.
Pose next to a tiger or GTFO.
Why don’t you let us do the grilling so we can avoid conversation for the rest of the party?
Simple solutions to fixing up your garbage pile of an apartment.
If there’s one thing both parties can agree on, it’s that they love Paul Revere cosplay.
A/K/A: Grant Tries to Plan His Friday Night
Preaching to the high choir.
Sad! Saaaad! Very sad.
America needs you! What if we have to do a mail merge? Or build out macros in Excel?
Nothing spices up a stale relationship like meddling in the affairs of your single friends!
Watch him come.
You can never get the back pimples by yourself.
The boys explore the feminine mysteries of bicycles.
Now you too can enjoy your beautiful, creamy ranch without being treated like a trash possum.
We are duty bound to try to hump those probably-models.
Bragging about your temperament is like telling someone how cool you are.
Hint: a lot.
Tonight: your Republican dad, your uninformed mom, and your sister, a liberal arts sophomore.
We’ve got hot dogs without buns, an un-openable can of refried beans AND stuff to make s’mores.
Car maintenance is all about knowing when to call your dad.
Zillow helps you find the perfect home that you could absolutely never afford.
Why use 12 good apps when you can use one shitty app?
Definitely not three dudes who dressed up like grandmas to score free weed.
They haven’t had this much fun since the jazz.
Half-empty Splenda packets all over your kitchen counter? You might have Sad Girl House.
Seriously, nobody wants whiskey stones.
Just because you haven’t talked since high school doesn’t mean you can’t share a holiday stuffing.
First, you’re gonna need about 500 potatoes, 300 carrots, and 5 to 6 fresh humans.
It’s almost as if New Year’s Eve consistently fails to live up to our collective expectations.
He literally had a diary titled “My Struggle”.
