"Hercules and Testicles eventually became bitter rivals, and Hercules often beat Testicles severely. Finally one day Hercules beat Testicles so badly, Testicles shrank off into obscurity forever."
"I need a pseudonym for you for my blog. What about Ski Blunder?"
*Leers*
"What? See its funny cuz it rhymes with Boy Wonder!"
"You know what we need ...a logo pretty soon, huh? Perhaps a snappy tag line as well? A theme song? And yes, a bluegrass version of the theme song? A new line of clothing? A microbrew beer named after us (MIA IPA)? A series of graphic novels to eventually be made into a movie? A documentary followed by a mockumentary?"
"You and your sad broccoli can kiss my ass."
"Is it enough?"
"It'll have to be enough."
"I don't need your disaster movie ultimatums."
"You're just like my mom. You try to make me eat my broccoli and throw pens in my eyes."
"I wish it were a lamp that would glow electric sex in my front window, so that the crackwhore who walks around our neighborhood with her little 12-year-old kid who insists he’s collecting money for the “school basketball team” would see something besides the other end of my double barreled shotgun when she comes a knockin’ at 11pm tonight."
You know what? Sometimes you've got to catch a few venereal diseases to find true love.
"I need a pseudonym for you for my blog. What about Ski Blunder?"
*Leers*
"What? See its funny cuz it rhymes with Boy Wonder!"
"You know what we need ...a logo pretty soon, huh? Perhaps a snappy tag line as well? A theme song? And yes, a bluegrass version of the theme song? A new line of clothing? A microbrew beer named after us (MIA IPA)? A series of graphic novels to eventually be made into a movie? A documentary followed by a mockumentary?"
"You and your sad broccoli can kiss my ass."
"Is it enough?"
"It'll have to be enough."
"I don't need your disaster movie ultimatums."
"You're just like my mom. You try to make me eat my broccoli and throw pens in my eyes."
"I wish it were a lamp that would glow electric sex in my front window, so that the crackwhore who walks around our neighborhood with her little 12-year-old kid who insists he’s collecting money for the “school basketball team” would see something besides the other end of my double barreled shotgun when she comes a knockin’ at 11pm tonight."
You know what? Sometimes you've got to catch a few venereal diseases to find true love.
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