I had a table with fake brains and severed arms on it with price tags attached. They kept asking asking for the brains and setting me up with the "sorry, I know it's yours but you weren't using it" line over and over again. Dads up and down the street applauded each time.
He’s clearly not a potato. I’m not a potato. We don’t current have potatoes in the pantry. The picture may be of a potato, but a picture is not a potato.
potatoism
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