this election season:
“When deciding who to listen to for this year’s election coverage, the decision is clear. On one side you’ve got this conservative Fox:
I’m concentrating on a particular part of her country…
The kind of broad that when you’re gonna go down on her, you take a glass of scotch and today’s Financial Times, because it’s GONNA BE AWHILE! And then on the other hand you’ve got this sixteen year old lesbian man on MSNBC:
Spanks but no spanks…
Who’s breath probably smells like expensive coffee and an old dog’s dick. Either way you’re just gonna hear a bunch of jibber-jabber and bullshit, so if you do have to listen to it for some reason, at least hear what Smokeshow Jones has to say about things and not Professor Pussywiggle.”
for realz this time…
“Well, REM and the fucking Mayans were right. It’s the end of the World. How do I know for sure? Because Taco Bell made a deal with America. If one motherfucker steals a base in the World Series this year, we’ll give all of you fat pieces of shit a free Doritos Loco Taco. You know, the one made with fucking Doritos for the shell? That one you NEEDED? Well guess what? Someone stole a base. Who, you ask? ANGEL PAGAN. That’s right, ANGEL fucking PAGAN. If you need more evidence, fuck you. Let the feast of tacos and souls begin!”
Don’t ask for forgiveness now, Pagan! It’s too late!
He does it, and god dammit so can you!
“I’ve been feeling really down recently because the doctors keep telling me I’m “going to die soon” and “you have Aidsthma!” so I haven’t been going out or having fun like my usual self. Then it hit me. It wasn’t my Aidsthma acting up that was making me sad, it was that I somehow hadn’t listened to rap music for a week! So I put the video for “Oh” by Ciara (f/ Ludacris) on, danced around, thought about how cool I am, exploded some crazy liquid everywhere from my Schlamson Rod, and now I’m better. Don’t ever NOT listen to rap music for more than three days.”
This chick is hot in the weirdest way. Like I want to do pull-ups with her:
Diversify. That’s how…
“You’ll probably never meet another person like me, because I doubt anyone else can explain the psychological importance of the title of the Dishwalla song, “Counting Blue Cars” in one sentence (we notice things the more we think of them, i.e. if you look for blue cars, you’ll see a bunch despite them only being only 9% of the car population) and then in the next sentence, explain to you what crack smells like when it’s being cooked (filthy gym socks in boiling water). If you can get to a level like this, you’ll make yourself indispensable to society, and then you’ll be able to behave however you’ll please. Couples will debate inviting you to cocktail parties and decide in your favor, comfortable in the knowledge that at best, you’ll entertain the crowd and fuck lonely Stacy… and at worst, you’ll come out of the bathroom with your shirt tied in a knot over your beer belly and your pants down. Indispensable.”
You’ll have to do this:
“When you’re awesome, you have to understand that not everyone is going to “get” you or “accept” the way you do things, or “not call the cops all the time” on you. For instance, an ex-girlfriend of mine just sent me a scathing email because she somehow found out that I buried a digital scale in her yard and was tracking her weight while we dated. She totally didn’t get it, thought I was “psycho” and “unstable” and other things boring people say about rad people. First off, what are you doing digging around your yard, lady? Secondly, click! I know you can’t hang up on an email but I literally wrote “Click” back to her. Seacrest out!”
Did you know that Adam Sandler is made of paint?
And look around. Maybe someone’s looking at you!
“Women are so attention starved that they wear shoes that put them on their tippy toes. Think about that for a second. They’re like fucking toddlers.”