I think it's a bold-faced lie.
Idea behind each: Upvote = burger flip motion for burgers flipped, hence my 1k karma / burgers flipped
Downvote = Drop your spatula, that was an actual bad joke, kinda like this post.
And always remember, here’s one in Spanish: Uno.
Using an esca-late-or.
it was HILL AREAS!!
Because it’s made backwards!
I would walk into every room while giving tours with my arms outstretched, head tilted slightly upwards, eyes shining, just admiring the beauty of the space and then spin around slowly and proudly state, "And this? THIS is where the magic happens!"
Because all the other vowels are in audible.
you park in it man. :)
One weighs upwards of 1800 pounds, the other is a little lighter.
Hey guys. As I'm sure most of you know, it's currently Thanksgiving in Canada. This time of year for me has, in the past, caused a lot of issues in my life.
To give a little bit of background on me, I'm usually an extremely healthy and fit guy, as I play high-level sports and have a physically demanding job. However, for much of my life, my willpower began to crumble around this time of year.
I first started taking my diet seriously when I was about 12 years old. I had some kind of realization where like, I dunno, I started looking at how jacked these movie stars were and was all, "wow, I want to be that cool too." Judging by the bowl cut I had when I was 12, my perception of cool may have been a little skewed, but I digress.
Anyhow, it was my first Thanksgiving where everything started falling apart. One of my relative's families ended up no-showing for dinner, so we were left with a load of Thanksgiving leftovers. For the next week, every single meal or snack I had was Thanksgiving themed. Sandwich? Turkey sandwich. Breakfast? Let's dollop some cranberry sauce on that bad boy. By the next week, my BGC (blood gravy content) was probably at like 1.0%.
You'd think I'd be sick of holiday food after that. But no. I loved it.
The tradition of refrigerated Thanksgiving snacks continued throughout the rest of my teen years. Like clockwork, the numbers on the scale would significantly jump upwards in October, with Halloween candy adding an extra layer of calories on top. By the time I reached 17, my waist had begun noticeably ballooning, and I realized it was all due to Thanksgiving turkey. Sure, I had some at Christmas and sometimes at Easter, but never like that. My mother would encourage this habit, making more food each year to be stuffed into our packed refrigerator.
The movie star bod I wanted for so much at the age of 12 was slipping a way. I needed to put an end to this.
Flash forward to October 2015, age 18. I had made a vow: I never again would place such putrid poultry onto my tastebuds. And ever since that fateful week of 2014, my vow had held true.
Each Thanksgiving, I can feel that craving for chilled turkey knocking on the refrigerator door of my fragile ego. For three years, I've held strong. But when will the garrison fall? When will that soft, biting flesh of the big bird smash it's way back into my life.
But so far, I've quit cold turkey.
The other day my son, who is almost three, walks into the kitchen where I was cooking dinner. He looked up at the cabinet that has the cookies and such and pointed like he wanted something. I stoop down to pick him up and ask:
Me: "What's up, dude?" Son: (gesturing upwards like a Roman senator) "The ceiling!"
yep, yep it is kid.
I was talking to a friend on Skype; at one point, I realised that I had to go to the bathroom.
"I'll be right back, I have to pee," I said.
"All right sure," she replied.
When I left, I put my laptop on the floor, the screen facing upwards, so as to avoid the ventilator being drowned by my duvet.
When I returned, I realised the webcam was pointing toward the ceiling, and I asked her:
"Did you find my ceiling interesting?"'
"Nah, I was looking at something else,"
And then, I saw my chance. It was glorious. Like golden wings borne on scarlet sunlight had brought me to Enlightenment, and I instantly replied with what is perhaps my greatest feat of pun yet:
"You know, that really hurts my ceilings."
When they arrived, a cab driver greeted them at the airport. "What should we do on our first day here," the father asked his son, excitedly. The driver interjected, "Well, if you're not natives, I'd suggest the roller coaster that teaches your or language." Confused, the father and son look at one another then back at their guide. "Trust me," he told them, "It's guaranteed or your money back." Having no plans and now both understandably intrigued, the pair agreed. When they arrived at the roller coaster, they were amazed to behold the giant steel skeleton of the most intricate ride they'd ever seen. It had loops, helixes, corkscrews and drops more terrifying than anything they'd ridden back home. The son quickly rescinded his consent and turned you guys father. "There's no way I'm getting on that thing. You go first," he said, "Then you can tell me if it's worth it." Not wanting to seem a coward, the father accepted. Stepping into the first car, he seated himself. As the attendant approached to check his shoulder restraint, her couldn't help but ask, "So how exactly am I supposed to learn an entire language from a roller coaster?" The attendant smiled and replied simply, "You'll see." Anticipation turned to unease as the cars lurched upward towards the first drop. The seconds felt like hours as the car climbed higher and higher, clicking steadily while the chain pulled it skyward. As the nose of the car tipped downward and he could see the enormous drop below, his inner fear turned verbal. Without thinking he screamed, "minä kuolen!" As he rounded the first turn and into an inverted twist, he debut another exclamation well inside and burst forth. "naida!" He screamed as the ride continued. A few minutes and many foreign-tongued exclamations later, he found himself back at the station trying to catch his breath with the smiling attendant removing his restraints. His ran up to his son and declared, "It really works! I'm not sure how, but it really works!" "How was it?" the son asked unimpressed. "It was a wild ride from start to Finnish." "The son smiled weakly. "Yeah , the cabbie stole our luggage."
