I work in a linen factory, where huge thick rolls of linen are generated by ferocious throbbing machines.
I've tried and tried to show you how to hold the handle, but you just can't seem to understand the specific maneuvers required. This makes me feel very tense and stressed and I wish you would just stop not understanding things.
Some basic excuses for having all of your teeth missing:
Unfortunately for me, a feral dentist crept in through my window and removed all of my teeth.
I lost my teeth in a teething accident.
I got in a fight with my dentist and he won.
This is the end of the dental excuse section.
Some basic excuses for ending a dental excuse section:
Unfortunately for me, a feral dental excuse manipulator crept into my thoughts and manipulated all of my dental excuses into meaningless thought-dust.
This is the end of the dental-excuse-section-ending excuse section.
I had a pony but someone shot it because it was mine and the person hated me.
I had a bullet but someone threw a pony at it because it was mine and the person hated me.
I had a sentence but someone unsentenced it because it was a sentence and the person hated sentences.
Now let's probe the depths of the latest creations by splitting some atoms: Take the crook of my arm and pull slightly to the left. See? It forms an arc, you know, like you learned about in school. Nice, nice work. Yes. You're almost as good at learning this stuff as I am at teaching it. Now stay with me. I want you to gently grasp both of my lungs and think hard about them. I know, it's a little shaky in there, just stay with me. Rotate your face into this broadsword, please. I don't even know you and we're already having these kinds of interactions. What a day!
I don't really like your perception of me, so I'm just going to kill you.
Yeah, I've always thought that about carpenters. It's just something my parents taught me. "Have these specific thoughts about carpenters, son."
My boots are all strapped up and ready to go; just tell me when and I'll pull the cord and start the engines and we'll roll all the way home, singing songs about boots and straps and being ready to go.
Carve me something out of a carving utensil, why don'tcha?
I have so much grease on my sleeves. I wish I could get it off but there's just so much of it left from all the generations of greasy men who wore this shirt before me.
I shaved off the inner lining of my throat. It was fun at the time, but now I regret it.
My pants are too tight. They feel like pants. I can feel each part of each pant on each part of each of my legs, and that is not what a pants-wearing person wants to experience.
My neck is sore from all the neck rubbing I've been receiving due to neck soreness.
I have tried to manufacture things in the past, but I gave that up decades ago. Too much skill involved, ya know? Like when you start the whole manufacturing process, it just spirals out of control and before you know it you've spawned a whole plague of death dragons. I guess the real challenge is in shifting your original goals to fit the entropic results. Never mind.
Let's start a club based on our common appreciation of gelatinous things. We can call it, "here is a name that could be the name of a club," you assholes.
I've got the ol' carpal tunnel, don't make fun of me for it! ;)
I could try to make you happier than you are, but you could also try to make me more in a state of trying to make you happier than you are than I am.
