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Oh God I have a raging boner.
Just kidding. My boners are full of love.
Hey, vegetarians, could you please get off your high horse?
Because I'd really like to eat it.
If I had a nickel for every time I found a nickel, I'd have INFINITE NICKELS OH NOOOO.
Turns out there's a limit to how many packs of Sweethearts you can eat by yourself without crying and that limit is 1.
So I've heard about yelling "fire" in a crowded theatre. But I just yelled "buttsex" in a crowded theatre.
While most people name their fists Fury or FaceSmashDeluxe, I name mine Gladys and Edna to increase the embarrassment of my victims.
Yeah great guys. Real considerate. Let's just put ALL the Bin Laden body doubles out of work.
And there he stood in the produce section, nude, organic Danjou pear in hand, screaming with all his might, "WHO'S THE FRUIT NOW, DAD?!"
Congratulations, Plaid Sport Coat Man. You took the emblem of douchebags and crossed it with the hipster.
You win. Have an ironic popsicle.
Look, this heart-to-heart talk is great, but let's cut the shit and get to the mouth-to-boob conversation.
And THAT'S how I win the ladies.
Whenever I see somebody with a bat, I worry that they'll hit me and it'll hurt and candy will fall out and I'll discover that I'm a piñata.
Dear douchebag eating out with his family but still wearing a fucking earpiece: you're not promoting much synergy with your three kids.
Hey dude carrying the huge boombox through Times Square? The 70s called and I couldn't even hear them over the 50 Cent you were blaring.
Hey ASSHOLE. I was going to park there. Yeah. Guess I'll... Guess I'll go park SOMEWHERE ELSE.
Sure showed that dick.
I do kind of envy that tiny-headed man for the sense of accomplishment he must feel every time he finds a hat that fits.
Why is it that no matter how many times you fly, your plane still makes a noise you've never ever heard before?
All things considered, puke makes for great lube.
Does Rogaine Foam really work? I'm asking for my dog. I mean pubes.
In circumstances like these, you really have to admire the body's ability to discharge waste in so many varying consistencies and colors.
Friend has been ending every song I sing with, "And my balls hurt" before saying, "Prophetic song!" and cockpunching me. Unsettling.