Lie me down to sleep.

So I guy I'm working with told me he lives on a 'garden-level' appartment, which means partially subterranean. I guess that mold is a form of vegetation.

My apartment is on the third-floor; it must be a penthouse.

We're all buying into our collective lies. He's not morbidly obsese, he's corpulant. She's not bitchy, she's just boldly outspoken. Nobody can smell my socks. The bank will reverse the overdraft fees. That online program was worth the money. The Democrats know what the fuck they're doing. That stain remover will lift the blood from the carpet in the den. They can't fire me, I just brought bagels. Anybody can grow up to become President.

That last one may actually be true.