That time the sewer backed up into the kitchen plus all of the penises carved into desks and walls.
Older millennial nerd.
That time the sewer backed up into the kitchen plus all of the penises carved into desks and walls.
Fucking phones, how do they work?
Mostly Lemmy, but still appending reddit to my Google searches. Just started with Bluesky, seems promising.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been, but I distinctly remember Olive Garden having a chocolate lasagna. It was decent, but nothing to rave about.
If you’re ever a victim of these crimes, make sure to dial 0118 999 881 999 119 725 3.
Spending hours with a bunch of ladies and possibly touching them in intimate locations.
vs
Spending hours with a bunch of guys and possibly touching them in intimate locations. Then showing with them.
Yeah, dance is way gayer.
Suddenly Seymour.
Doctor Who, Bob’s Burgers, Futurama, Dexter, Game of Thrones, Rick and Morty, Solar Opposites, King of the Hill, Archer
I’m sure there’s more.
37 times? In a row?
To me, a baby is often a poop butt because of the diaper. Teenagers are often shit asses because they’re rebelling.
I assume they take it to another toilet or a compost pile. Maybe they need a fecal transplant and don’t have health insurance.
A droll factoid.
A Thanksgiving duck!
Poop, pee, and in a pinch: hand washing and hydration.
Yes Babe, I am real man
Only if it’s made with Fight Milk.
Similar to Pensacola Naval Air Station.
Is there a possibly that I’m pegrent?
I’m in the US and I can do this. I call my primary care, they connect me with a nurse, and I tell them what’s going on. They will then inform me if I should go to UC, ER, or wait for an appointment. The primary care office even has a walk in clinic as an option. This is why it’s good to have a primary care physician, even if insurance doesn’t require it.
The penises were not because of the sewer backup, it’s just what you expected to see everyday. Edited the original post to clarify.
There was one study hall where a penis was drawn on the chalkboard every day. One time, the art showed the ejaculate dribbling a bit. The teacher came in, looked at it, shrugged, said “at least it’s a little more accurate,” erased it, and sat down.