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Huh. I felt a disturbance in the Force, as if millions of voices whined in annoyance while still secretly searching for Episode 7 spoilers.
If #TheWalkingDead teaches us anything, it's that we could all use an All-Purpose Utility Redneck.
I refuse to put either one of my dogs in a kennel whose website uses Comic Sans. #wellmaybethepug
AOL gets shitty tech-tabloid content & Arrington gets validation from a service that is no longer relevant. EVERYONE WINS. #aol #techcrunch
I just hate-Googled the sellers of the house we're buying. Next up: pricing lye and bone saws.
I gotta felling this weekend's Catholic fish fries are gonna be straight off the CHAIN, y'all.
Here's what the debates need: one moderator and seven fact checkers armed with buttons that light up a "BULLSHIT" sign on stage.
MOTHERFUCKERS, there's absolutely no reason to play November Rain without letting it end with Slash's masturbatory guitar solo, GODDAMMIT.
Apparently my naked buttocks are less entertaining than Michael Bay's first Transformers movie. On the phone with a divorce lawyer now.
I've gotta admit, listening to various Texan radio announcers talk about last night's "great game" through gritted teeth is kinda awesome.
I think my "You know, I've learned something" episode recap for today is going to be about how fucking sick I am of the Internet's cynicism.
Damn, Charlie Sheen. It's one thing to fuck up your career, but to drag Ducky down with you? That's bad fuckin' form.
I mean, it's not like the gov'ment is making crazy psychic warrior girls or an insane race of cannibals, but I'd want to know if they were.
At what point in this "This is America, Charlie Brown" special does Pigpen hand a plague blanket to a Native American?
This day is dragging like the scrotal sack of a man stricken with severe testicular elephantitis as he travels a road of shattered hopes.