Dear God, Why don't you ever get inspired by those carmakers who recall defective models? Please be humble, accept that you made and mistake and recall all idiots, criminals, haters, terrorists and replace their defective minds.
Does anyone else day dream about what it would be like if specific age groups just dropped dead all across the world?
My imaginary pal up there, Mr. NOT, tells me it's my dog-damn ism to kick your illusory he-man's ass. Now, what do you say to that?
The wider you spread your fingers apart while clapping is equal to the amount of retarded you look while clapping.
If you’re listening to this, congratulations! You survived Doomsday.I’d like to apologize straightaway for any inconvenience the end of the world may have caused you. The earthquakes, rebellions, riots,tornadoes, floods, tsunamis, and of course the giant snake who swallowed the sun—I’m afraid most of that was our fault. Carter and I decided we should at least explain how it happened.
Yes, an actual full-sized camel. If you find that confusing, just think how the criosphinx must have felt.Where did the camel come from, you ask? I may have mentioned Walt’s collection of amulets. Two of them summoned disgusting camels. I’dmet them before, so I was less than excited when a ton of dromedary flesh flew across my line of sight, plowed into the sphinx, and collapsed on topof it. The sphinx growled in outrage as it tried to free itself. The camel grunted and farted.“Hindenburg,” I said. Only one camel could possibly fart that badly. “Walt, why in the world—?”“Sorry!” he yelled. “Wrong amulet!”The technique worked, at any rate. The camel wasn’t much of a fighter, but it was quite heavy and clumsy. The criosphinx snarled and clawedat the floor, trying unsuccessfully to push the camel off; but Hindenburg just splayed his legs, made alarmed honking sounds, and let loose gas.I moved to Walt’s side and tried to get my bearings.
When they figure out how to bottle up orgasms and sell them as a food additive, I'll be first in line.
Is she special? (asks the gay waiter) I thinks she's going to break my heart On arrival of the girl The flannel is fine honey,but I have'nt seen anyone that over accesorized since batman!
Holy mama llama. That’s Nathanial Stone. Nathanial Stone is sitting in my booth. Nathanial Stone is in the Finewhile Diner sitting in my booth. I’m supposed to wait on Nathanial Stone. I’m going to make a fool out of myself. I just know it. I can feel it coming. Crap.
Minimalism is a girl's best asset, blend tones, smudge hard outlines; if all else fails; Photoshop it.
Dont act like you are walking around with a Tshirt that says I give Up! on the front and on the back saying I never started trying!People can bring you down, situations happen, YOU can feel like Life is the shittiest thing to deal with. BLAH BLAH BLAH..If you're walking through Hell, keep going! Everyday there's a new challenge. Face it! Deal with it! Move on! To every problem there is a solution or a way around it.. Stop being a sour mongral and think life owes you something..No one will do anything for you these days. Start fighting. Get rid of ALL the shit people in your Life. Grow some balls of steel and work progressively through everything. Step by Step or what ever mad method you have to get you back in line again.Who cares, if people don't like you, BURN that mother of a bridge down. It was never meant to be.. Build New ones! Many roads to cross and new paths on life to Explore..It starts with YOU.. And if people want to judge you, tell them to F/O and look in the mirror. Time for a new game.. It's called Take over the World WHOOOP WHOOOP!!
Be the kind of woman who, when your feet hit the floor each morning, the devil says Oh, no! She's up.
Religion is a totalitarian belief. It is the wish to be a slave. It is the desire that there be an unalterable, unchallengeable, tyrannical authority who can convict you of thought crime while you are asleep, who can subject you to total surveillance around the clock every waking and sleeping minute of your life, before you're born and, even worse and where the real fun begins, after you're dead. A celestial North Korea. Who wants this to be true? Who but a slave desires such a ghastly fate? I've been to North Korea. It has a dead man as its president, Kim Jong-Il is only head of the party and head of the army. He's not head of the state. That office belongs to his deceased father, Kim Il-Sung. It's a necrocracy, a thanatocracy. It's one short of a trinity I might add. The son is the reincarnation of the father. It is the most revolting and utter and absolute and heartless tyranny the human species has ever evolved. But at least you can fucking die and leave North Korea!
What’s not to love? I made friends with a pretty girl and now we get to plan a castle break in. This beats the day to day kill, eat and survive.
He’s close enough now that I can hear his footfall on the pavement, and I knowmy chances of outrunning him are slim. I’m practically in a full sprint, and mypounding heart is begging me to take it down a notch. I try to will my feet to keep pace with its beat; but I think it’s humanly impossible to run that fast. And then it dawns on me that my footsteps are the only ones I hear. Somewhere along the way, Tristan’s must have come to a stop. And I can’t quite explain why I’m running this fast in the first place. I slow to a jog, intending to just pick up with my original pace; but I can’t seem to suck in breaths fast enough to propel my feet any further. My molten shoes stutter to a stop, as my hands come to rest on my knees. I’m still wheezily sucking in breath after breath of thick, humid air, when I warily turn tolook over my shoulder.Tristan’s standing about fifty feet back, hands on his hips and a comp
He’s close enough now that I can hear his footfall on the pavement, and I knowmy chances of outrunning him are slim. I’m practically in a full sprint, and my pounding heart is begging me to take it down a notch. I try to will my feet to keep pace with its beat; but I think it’s humanly impossible to run that fast. And then it dawns on me that my footsteps are the only ones I hear. Somewhere along the way, Tristan’s must have come to a stop. And I can’t quite explain why I’m running this fast in the first place. I slow to a jog, intending to just pick up with my original pace; but I can’t seem to suck in breaths fast enough to propel my feet any further. My molten shoes stutter to a stop, as my hands come to rest on my knees. I’m stillwheezily sucking in breath after breath of thick, humid air, when I warily turn to look over my shoulder.Tristan’s standing about fifty feet back, hands on his hips and a comp
In my experience, the romance novels written about BDSM have about as much in common with actual BDSM relationships as a child playing with a jump rope.
So, am I too, like all other humans, just a rogue? Sure! Just a notch less than those rascals wearing godly robes.
His green eyes blazed with desire; such a different look than I'd known before. Chase had studied me, reading my feelings. Tucker was only trying to see his own reflection. Disturbing on several levels.
And what the hell does that even mean? Why would you serve food for thoughgs, and what kind of food? If you serve spinach, do you get healthy thoughts? If it's ice cream and candy, it is fun thoughts? Why do we say stupid things?
Imogene always sitson the remote. It’s probably wedged between her butt cheeks.”“Should I go get a crowbar?
Ish #19 If your diet soda has zero calories, zero sugar and zero fat, what the hell are you drinking?
He done his level best.Was he a mining on the flat..He done it with a zest..Was he a leading of the choir..He done his level best.If he'd a reg'lar task to do,He never took no rest..Or if 'twas off and on the same..He done his level best.If he was preachin' on his beat,He'd tramp from east to west,And north to south ..in cold and heat..He done his level best.He'd Yank a sinner outen (Hades),And land him with the blest;Then snatch a prayer'n waltz in again,And do his level best.He'd cuss and sing and howl and pray,And dance and drink and jest,He done his level best.Whate'er this man was sot to doHe done it with a zest;No matter what his contract was,He'd do his level best...
(About a cookbook...)- What about this one? Maids of Honor?- Weeelll, they starts OUT as Maids of Honor...but they ends up Tarts.
Ladies glisten, men perspire, horses sweat.-Early Nun Quote, The Old Ursuline Convent (1727) New Orleans, LA
I said to my friend, Why do you smoke (cigarettes)?He replied, Because I like to put myself on the line for the welfare and safety of others.I astonishingly said, Sorry, I didn't get your point.He replied, I want a cigarette-free world. Therefore, I am trying my best to end all the cigarettes from the world.