the year is 2066. physical contact has been outlawed. hug dealers tenderly embrace people in the dead of night and shady people hold hands in dark streets
i want to read this novel
I want to write this novel.
I want to edit this novel.
Sounds like we have a plan.
I want to produce the movie
I’m directing the porn parody
I’m buying the porn parody
Today my history professor, a rumpled, pot-bellied guy in his mid thirties, walked into class looking all excited, which made the rest of us nervous, because he’s known for pop quizzes. He took a deep breath and said, “I have been waiting for this moment my entire teaching career. So please, pull out your textbooks and…” in a British accent, glowering at us all ferociously, “TURN TO PAGE THREE HUNDRED AND NINETY FOUR.”
We. All. DIED.
I AM COMPLETELY SERIOUS.
It’s May 25. Do you know where your towel is?
I bet microwaves are actually just filled with a million invisible eyes that just stare at food until it gets all embarrassed and hot
“You’re the same age you’ll have plenty in common”