While you go to work and fumble around in that greasy till to scratch out a modest living for yourself, I am off doing things. Important things! Scary things! All kinds of . . . of things, man. All sorts of, y'know, stuff. Ferocious stuff.
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On The Simpsons one time former President Ronald Reagan told Homer “I’m doing to destroy you like a Japanese banquet.” Probably best not to use that line on people in real life though. When did hookers start carrying switchblades? And ears grow back, right?
The most important thing after your wheels and what kind of snap back you wear while cruising for poon you’ll never, ever get is having the right doucheplate. 2SUSPX narrowly beat out N0SX4UZ and TTLVRGNS.
SUPPORTED GRASSROOTS MUSIC. BY NOT LISTENING TO IT.
Does it hurt, having the giant robotic face of commercially successful music peer down upon the dregs of your nu-rave ska-soul funk collective after yet another crappy gig to two drunk guys and a stray dog in an empty shit shack? Huh? You know what, don’t answer that. I’ve just eaten lunch and if you open your mouth even the tiniest bit I’ll puke up my $28 risotto.
Ummm, pretty sure holding the tower with one hand while you pull blocks out with the other is just about the worst kind of cheating there is. If she hadn’t promised to take a dump on my chest while I choke myself with a belt later on I would totally be calling her out.
Forget the meat pie – that gratuitous, glory-hogging gravy boat! – it’s the sausage roll that represents all that’s truly great about Australia. Casual racism, domestic violence, xenophobia, mullets, Bundy, circle work, the missionary position, I could go on. Actually I couldn’t, that’s pretty much everything.
This is the room where I went for the World Record For Longest Consecutive Time Spent Jerking Off In A Holiday Inn. Six days, twelve hours, eight minutes, forty-four seconds. My wang looked like a boiled rat afterwards. And Ryan Seacrest still beat me by almost a week.
It’s actually pretty fun. All we do is sit around listening to Jimmy Buffet and playing Legend of Zelda on Super Nintendo. Of course, next Tuesday at midnight we have to dump a whole bunch of Viagra and ketamine and sodomize each other to death on live webcam, but still. Zelda.
Well, here it is – Taylor Swift’s rhinestone special. If she did this to her guitar, can you imagine what her spadge looks like? Damn thing’d be vajazzled up the wazoo, bet it’s like a ’70s disco down there.
Can you even imagine how many men, women and children are hospitalised by shitfaced sports fans wielding prostate-fingered Hulk Hands every Friday night? Nothing ruins your weekend like a ruptured anus.
I see you down there, Bud Light truck. You think you can run from me? I’mma get my shitty watered-down white-boy cat-piss no-taste low-carb ass swill one way or another. I’ve got a house party to go to tonight, what do you want me to drink? PBR? No way. You drink PBR.
The by-line reads: “Sung with great success by Alma Gluck.” Alma Gluck? Now, I don’t like to judge people by their names, but I bet you a thousand dollars this Gluck woman had nine chins, a hare lip, and voice like a coal miner’s swamp hound.