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Sometimes I feel as though I don't love bacon or hate Comic Sans enough to be on the Internet.
Bud Light Lime is what happens when alcohol doesn't apply itself.
The message on your t-shirt is shaking the foundation of my entire belief system.
What doesn't kill you obviously wasn't administered in a lethal dose.
When do I stop calling it bed head and start accepting it as my regular hairstyle?
The next time you find yourself reaching for the mic to belt out "Lady Marmalade," please remember: KARAOKE IS NOT A VICTIMLESS CRIME.
I started listening to "Rapper's Delight" three days ago and still haven't reached the part where the chicken tastes like wood.
Squirrels may not be as complex as humans, but they sure are a lot harder to hit with my car.
Cleanliness is next to godliness on the list of things that I failed to accomplish today.
It's funny how we park in driveways and drive on parkways and masturbate in funeral parlors.
Yes, but it's a *dry* -42°F wind chill.
Remember: It's not slurring your words, it's speaking in cursive.
No open bar? What kind of Denny's is this, anyway?
The blue ribbon in the Pabst logo is intended to heighten cirrhosis awareness, right?
Frozen pizza is the pity fuck of food.
It's crazy to think that Dennis Rodman created Nicki Minaj just by jacking off onto a pile of glitter.
Gender notwithstanding, if you play the tambourine, you ARE the girlfriend.
Banana is the Jan Brady of artificial flavors.
Make love, not inspirational Christian ska.
I won't be satisfied until there's a heat death of the universe emoji (or I have a basic understanding of how satisfaction works).