I'm as surprised as anyone that my girl-crush is a mom.

A woman at the next table, behind Guild, was saying oratorically: “I can always tell when I'm getting swacked because the skin gets tight across my forehead, but it don't ever do me any good because by that time I'm too swacked to care whether I'm getting swacked or not."

Thus in your field my seed of harvestry Thrives, for the fruit is like me that I set; God bids me tend it with good husbandry; This is the end for which we twain are met.

This nonsense won’t do for me, you know; if you want a skulk, you had better pack off back to the house.