Those dotted lines at the ends of the yellow, blue, and orange lines: how long have they been there? How long will they persist there? When does a hope turn into a lie?

Tim and Caroline gave us little bottles of whiskey and tequila to drink on the plane, and the Good Lord gave us unbroken sunshine by which to admire our concoctions.

Credit card machine went down, so: free. Free! We smashed two and ordered two more. We made kir royales with the blood from our hands. Free!

You guys are cute but you reclined into my knees so we’re enemies, now. Didn’t have to be this way.

They’re letting you fly the plane.

By dint of fat or of muscle your butt got too big for the suit you intended to wear, so a secondary suit, then. Actually a more pleasing construction (soft-shouldered, less trapezoidal), but a slightly erratic color (tan), so a little troubling. When did vanity come to overwhelm your senses? Do you remember thinking about the elevator shaft into the airport tower, how weirdly shaped it must be, and are there stairs right beside? Men up there in short sleeves and ties, coffee teeth, saying “Niner” and shit, making jokes about the wife.

The wife! You are getting married! Stop thinking about your goddamn suit and get married to this woman you love so you can make wife jokes with pilots already.

Broke my home button, have to use that funny little assistive soft button instead. “So much for screenshots” is today’s small bummer about it.

Pissed, both. You always know your place on the totem pole around here.

Peter’s feedback hurts sometimes, but is ultimately effective.

Too hard, had to google it.

“It’s like this, George. In a game divided by color, he made us see greatness. I don’t know what’s so hard for you to understand about that.”

I’m telling you, baby, you gotta get yourself down to the beach. I know what you’re thinking: it’s just a bunch of clams down there, just a bunch of sand. No way, baby. I’m telling you, they got ice cream and french fries and girls, girls, girls galore. You gotta check yourself into the beach, baby. It’s a real scream.

LФЦIE С.Ж., HARDWORKING MOSCOW FUNNYMAN