Well. You've pretty fully defined the way I'll picture you from now on.
Don't be silly. You're far from expendable.
I think we're referencing two very different redshirts, unless I'm wrong about how much interstellar war there is in basketball. Which is also possible.
You could probably argue that I did. Residual teen angst makes philosophical redcoats out of all of you on the wrong day.
I ordered two sandwiches for lunch today.
Did you get extra ranch on them?
I don't ranch my sandwiches.
Mayonaise. Fatty, fatty mayonaise.
Well now you're all american.
I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. Well, except for the response responding that I will not respond.
NOW I'M ANGRY ABOUT SANDWICHES
Let's move away from the topic of condiments and go to bread - did you go white, wheat or rye? Perhaps the Jalepeno Cheddar roll?
I must admit I am a sucker for foccacia.
Dutch Crunch Motherfucker.
That's a little too bold for my taste.
I had no intention of sharing my sandwich with you so calm down.
Ranch flavored Mayo needs to happen.