Ellen’s Oscar Pizza Guy Gets His Tip
I like how he tried to grab it the first time but Ellen pulled back.
She is maybe my favorite person ever.
SOMEONE FINALLY SAID IT
So if a teenager is at school for roughly 8 hours, and they are doing homework for 6+ hours, and they need AT LEAST 9 HOURS OF SLEEP FOR THEIR DEVELOPING BRAINS, then they may have 0-1 hours for other activities like eating, bathing, exercise, socializing (which is actually incredibly important for emotional, mental, and physical health, as well as the development of skills vital to their future career and having healthy romantic relationships among other things), religious activities, hobbies, extra curriculars, medical care of any kind, chores (also a skill/habit development thing and required by many parents), relaxation, and family time? Not to mention that your parents may or may not pressure you to get a job, or you might need to get one for economic reasons.
BLESS THIS POST
also filed under: reasons high schools copy homework and cheat
also the number of hours doing homework depends on if you have a learning disability/hard time focusing/etc.
have you ever thought about the fact that like 6 people died because romeo couldn’t control his dick
This makes it sound like he went round with his dick smacking people to death because he can’t control it
is that not what happened
Claus woke up the same way he always did. Sweating, shaking, and screaming. Another nightmare. He brushed his arm against his forehead and reached to the floor for a lighter and his cigarettes but he was out.
He reached around to the other side of the bed to find his pants and quickly searched through his pockets. No cigarettes.
Claus lay quietly. In front of him, he watched the clock; 7:25 am. Tick-tock, tick-tock. He turned to the left, a fly buzzed around the window attempting to escape. In the distance he could hear the loud whistle of a train passing by. He looked to the right; the paint on the bathroom walls was falling apart. He listened; the bathroom faucet had been left slightly open and was dripping. Drip, drip, drip. He turned to the left, the fly continued to buzz by the window. The train continued to blow its whistle. He looked to the right. The paint was still falling apart and the faucet still continued to drip. He looked at the clock.
Claus reached around the bed and grabbed his pants again. This time he put them on. Five feet from him lay a black shirt. Whether it was clean or not was unclear. He grabbed it anyway and put it on.
The corner gas station is one hundred fifty six feet away, the closest store, and sells their cigarettes for $10 a piece. Expensive. One hundred feet from there is a grocery store that sells cigarettes at half the price.
The sun beamed high in the sun and scorched down on Claus’ neck. Cars zoomed by honking, polluting the air. What a terrible day, he thought.
Claus debated walking to the grocery store but settled for the gas station. I need my cigarettes, he thought.
He took a big puff of his cigarette and then let the smoke come out slowly. Ecstasy, he thought. The walk back went by faster. It was a nice sunny morning, Claus no longer paid attention to the cars zooming by nor did he care.
The studio was much bigger after his cigarette. The fly was there but it no longer buzzed. The paint on the wall: original paint. The faucet worked just fine but the clock, it still moved slowly. It always did.
Tick-tock, tick-tock. Claus took another big puff.