Monday, February 28, 2011
stop honking at me, you bastard. i'm not a psychic, i can't predict that the light will turn green before it actually turns green. but i know what'll teach me: you speeding past me and then cutting me off. now i've learned. i hope you spill your coffee on your fucking lap, garlic bread.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
hi, can you move? i'm trying to get to adventureland and you're stopping every minute to tie a shoelace or take a picture of nothing. put down the turkey leg, wipe the cotton candy off your face, and figure it out.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
you are so full of shit, twinkie. if you could pry yourself away from "chatting" with "ladies" online, maybe you could pay me back the $100 you owe me. and it wouldn't hurt for you to step outside and see the sun for a second. lord knows you could use the exercise.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
saying "ciao" and "bella" and being able to count to 5 in italian does not actually make you an italian. i don't care that your great-great-stepgrandma went to sicily once. you have no right to wear those too-tight jeans and put that much shit in your hair. arrivaderci.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
if you want me to come over there and talk to you, you're definitely going to have to learn some manners. and don't "yoohoo" me, yoohoo. waving your little fingers at me like an old lady in a bugs bunny cartoon. it's not cute.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
you ride around in your pickup, chewing tobacco, honking at girls, and slamming gay kids into lockers. bullies grow up to be unemployed, generic-beer-drinking losers. why do you hate gay people? are you chicken? at least you're in the right business, cocks.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
really? you think a rayon shirt and overalls is appropriate work attire? are you happy that your hair looks like david silver's? 1992 called, chocolate chip cookie. it wants its everything back.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
last time i checked, a gum wrapper does not a skirt make. go back to hot topic, return that thing, and use the money you get back to take a makeup class. preferably one that doesn't teach you to look like you just got cast as hooker #8 in "law and order." you could look like respectable hooker #7, instead, slutbag.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
your head is so far up your ass, crunchwrap supreme, that you look like a fucked up origami project. and not of the paper swan variety. go blow yourself -- by the looks of it, you've already tried.
Monday, February 7, 2011
you're like, that guy at the oscar party who won't stop the stupid commentary about everything, and everyone keeps hoping that if they ignore you, you'll stop, but you just never, ever stop. ever. i get it. you know how to use google. now shut the fuck up and pass me the veggie platter.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
sorry to break it to you, dip, but you smell. a lot. you think people invite you to parties because they like you, but really it's because they feel sorry for you. that's why it's always last minute. and that's why you're always exiled to the corner.
you think an image of jesus on your backside makes you holier than thou? the only image i see is of a poser, you big liar.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
you think you're better than everyone, sitting there laughing while we get sticky and fat. what a douchebag. and a lot of kids are allergic to peanuts, so not only are you a douchebag, but you're also deadly. nice one, snickers.