I was born a poor black child...
- In one of my labs this week, there was a big bag of internal organs sitting in the sink. I think that says a lot about how I felt about that lab. I wonder how the sack of innards felt about me. I didn’t see a brain, so probably not a whole lot.
- For the love of God, can someone explain the phenomenon of those ass ratchets who feel the need to: a)whistle, b)hoot, c)honk, or d)make derogatory comments. What, do you think by doing these things I’m going to rip my shirt off and throw myself on your windshield? That I’ll tackle you and pull your teeny wing-wang out? Do you honestly think I’m going to do anything other than vomit a little? You fucking morons. If you think a girl is cute, go talk to her or shut the fuck up, you douche bags. I swear if one more of you wannabe fucking players gives me a mother fucking “shout out” I’m going to beat the living shit out of you and submit a picture of you to the latest fight fucking AIDS campaign.
- If ibuprofen is an anti-inflammatory, how come my fat lip looks EXACTLY the same after taking 1000mg?
2 Comments:
Not only am i gonna whistle, hoot, honk, and yell things out the window i will also ask you to wrestle in random substances AND YOU'LL LIKE IT!
This is the part of being a guy that is great we find that if the shoe is on the other foot we get an ego boost Good lord i love havin a penis
Ok, I've realized that you're way cooler than I originally thought you were, and I thought you were pretty cool when I met you. I also realize that none of these comments I'm leaving will make sense as you read them in order cause I'm not reading your blog in order. But I don't have any ohter way to contact you other than MySpace, which you neglect almost as much as this blog. Anyway, you crack me up. You have a seriously great sense of humor, I don't think a girl has made me laugh out loud by ranting in...ever. Kudos. Granola Bars. Whatever.
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