Cross stitch for the win. Fresh outta fucks to give for asshats.

He shouldn't survive the post-dinner cigarette after blaming his rookie QB a the timeout he could've called. Pilot the damn plane. Head Coach.

Yes, the evils of vertigo are like staggering around an unknown planet. I'm sorry for your struggle.

Sounds gawdawful. As a person fighting daily, crushing headaches, I'm damn sorry to hear it.

Only fascists would steal all the art in the entire world to create a computer program that can't consistently generate a properly formatted haiku