I'm in the land of Rick Perry and I just shipped my pants. Run ballistics on this hairpiece. Wow this watermelon is just so great I'm gonna marry it now. Incidentally my computer just now this very moment decided to Betty Crocker. You jerks, giving away nothing like it's candy. NOTHING DOESN'T GROW ON TREES YOU KNOW
Every time someone says the word pandering I imagine a panda just putting its paw on someone's face like
PAP
PAP
yo man im like a panda and crap
PAP
What I really wanted to say was: You should not include: colons at random points: in your sentence. They just don't belong. I don't know what you want from me, but it will never be colons. According to me, a colon is two dots. But that's for another day that will never happen. If you know the muffin man however, the Coalition of International Baking Injustice would really like to know. I mean, if you don't know the muffin man, you probably won't be sued for too much. As long as your attorney isn't Antarctican, you should be fine. The CIBI is kind of racist. Hello there.
If you wanted to know the meaning of knowing what meanings of what you wanted to know the meaning of, you'd be in the wrong DMV. I don't really know why you'd want to be playing Monopoly, but I sure don't want to know why you'd be wanting to play Monopoly. So don't tell me. Or I will murder your entire TREE. Because you're really TREE. Why are you so TREE? Can't you be less like a TREE?
Hey. Hey pick up that anvil and throw it out of this like seven story window. It will be funny. I don't care bout manslaughter. Just do it. You are being a lazy bum. By which I mean you are a butt exhibiting an overwhelming lackadaisical attitude for which you will surely be outcast as a sort of social pariah, cursed to walk the sad and lonely path of a repugnant exile bearing at least two diseases. Like, polio or something. I don't know. Let's go back to exhuming bodies illegally.
-Polio and Griffin
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Crabbing Flourence
I am not available for cycling. I do not care how many times you ask me about cycling, I shall not accept the invitation. For they are honorable men. The number of times you ask me about cycling does not equal the quotient of gravitation on the number of hamburgers could be cooked at a given time. Because Brutus is an honorable man. Can not be'eth time for in the west eagle coast? Can one be not for the time being that is of existence? I glare in thy general direction thrice, thus nearing the cactus. Frouf, that is not the question. It isn't a question in any sense, in fact. Frouf, in reality, is a collection of letters, bonded by codes, and separated with small spaces.
The matter that needs addressing is the matter that needs a dressing, dressed in a dress of ranch dressing. That matter is the fact that we have not yet come to a consensus about whether we should call eyebrows eyestaches or mustaches mouthbrows. It's one or the other, Harolds, you can't postpone this meeting any longer or we'll have to make some sort of joke about the fiscal cliff.
Four score and four score and four sceven years a scoge, our fore score fathers and four GO HOME LINCOLN YOU'RE DRUNK
No, see, this is the sort of thing that we talked about last time it was 2014. We filled the swimming pool with chocolate milk, let it ferment, and threw seventeen people over the fence. If you're going to keep ignoring procedure like some weird guy named Lemonjello who isn't even a part of this caravan, I'm going to have to ask you to please leave the premises. But take this umbrella. I really wish my face wasn't a face but instead a bowl of freshly steamed vegetables.
At least the Onion Fairy of Yore noticed that her nose was twice as large as that one guy's nose who had a larger nose than the Onion Fairy of Yore had before she noticed it was larger than that guy's nose. I believe she lived in Flourence. Not the Italian version. The one dominated by the cooking utensil flour. She knows it too. Like, before the Sixty-First Crusade, there was only one type of cooking utensil. And that was watered down paint. It was really bad. I had some yesterday. And I pooed in space.
-Griffin and Polio_Bear
The matter that needs addressing is the matter that needs a dressing, dressed in a dress of ranch dressing. That matter is the fact that we have not yet come to a consensus about whether we should call eyebrows eyestaches or mustaches mouthbrows. It's one or the other, Harolds, you can't postpone this meeting any longer or we'll have to make some sort of joke about the fiscal cliff.
Four score and four score and four sceven years a scoge, our fore score fathers and four GO HOME LINCOLN YOU'RE DRUNK
No, see, this is the sort of thing that we talked about last time it was 2014. We filled the swimming pool with chocolate milk, let it ferment, and threw seventeen people over the fence. If you're going to keep ignoring procedure like some weird guy named Lemonjello who isn't even a part of this caravan, I'm going to have to ask you to please leave the premises. But take this umbrella. I really wish my face wasn't a face but instead a bowl of freshly steamed vegetables.
At least the Onion Fairy of Yore noticed that her nose was twice as large as that one guy's nose who had a larger nose than the Onion Fairy of Yore had before she noticed it was larger than that guy's nose. I believe she lived in Flourence. Not the Italian version. The one dominated by the cooking utensil flour. She knows it too. Like, before the Sixty-First Crusade, there was only one type of cooking utensil. And that was watered down paint. It was really bad. I had some yesterday. And I pooed in space.
-Griffin and Polio_Bear
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