There are few things less pleasing to the Lord, and less productive, than an engineering department that rapidly turns out beautiful blueprints for the wrong product.
You're, you know, you're trying to figure out if you have some sort of an anxiety disorder and next thing you know you're getting damn emails from a local men's bar or whatever.
I remember when we first bought it, making funny comments that the Michigan basement had to be a meth lab or had to have satanic cults just to fuck with my wife and friends.
“Yea but coming from Dudley that's like 'I love you, '” said Harry, torn between annoyance and a desire to laugh as Aunt Petunia continued to clutch at Dudley as if he had just saved Harry from a burning building.