Look, Ma! No hands!
if I'm looking at my phone I now reply, 'No. I am not Twittering,' in a sort of flat monotone. And tweet.
Because now his watch has ended.
Having half a screaming child on your hands.
There is none. In both cases, if you don't have one, you unload by hand.
You only get laid once, and that's by your mother!
Your mother.
