I’m doing a scientific study in my apartment, tracking the lifecycle of a dust bunny, trying to understand how they reproduce so quickly.
Soon a girl’s menstruation party will include gift certificates for Botox along with her first tampons. You’re never too young to fear aging.
I’d like to see a nightly news program performed by the Sesame Street characters. Having plush puppets deliver the news could reduce my anxiety.
For many people the influence of Mercury is not an arguable point. They are quite certain they know what they’re talking about.
Why would I want to live to be 165 in a world where my iPhone doesn’t work and all my friends are dead?
Amoebas in sexy grass skirts will soon be doing the hula on TV commercials, calmly wagging their hips to quell our fear of microbes and hypnotize us into buying new and improved products squirming with life.
If Einstein needed Botox to get a job, the Allies might have lost WW2, My Favorite Martian wouldn’t have been in prime time, and Dick Tracy would have been talking into his necktie instead of his wristwatch.