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One time my cousin Walter got this cat stuck in his ass. True story. He bought it at our local mall, so the whole fiasco wound up on the news. It was embarassing for my relatives and all. But the next week, he did it again. Different cat, same results, complete with another trip to the emergency room. So I run into him a week later at the mall and he was buying another cat! And I said to him, "Jesus, Walt, what are you doing, you know you're just gonna get this cat stuck up your ass too, why don't you knock it off?" And he said to me, "Brodie, how the hell else am I supposed to get the gerbil out?" My cousin was a weird guy.
Listen, not a year goes by, not a year, that I don't hear about some escalator accident involving some bastard kid which could have easily been avoided had some parent--I don't care which one--but some parent conditioned him to fear and respect that escalator!
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned for Sega.
You're gonna listen to me? To something I said? Hasn't it become abundantly clear during the tenure of our friendship that I don't know shit?
I would've made a sexy chick.
I love the smell of commerce in the morning.
You two are retarded for each other.
Why don't they ever bring back or remake good shows, like 'BJ and the Bear.' Now there's a concept I can't get enough of, a man and his monkey.
Most of the time I'm just talking out of my ass - or sticking my hand in it.
Yeah, and she also said I had no dick. Which precedes the financial question, proving once more what women really look for.
Say, would you like a chocolate covered pretzel? They're a little melty, but damn, are they exquisite.
Women, always leaving you after you've had the crap kicked out of you.
That's criminal; that kid is back ON THE ESCALATOR AGAIN!
You want me to rub it?
How is it that I go from the verge of hot Floridian sex with Brandi to Man of Steel coital debates with you in the food court?
You're nothing but a lot of talk and a badge!
How does that Jr. Masters in Johnson know about my proposal?
Fly fatass Fly!
Where do you get these wonderful toys?
What you need is a fatty-boom-batty blunt, and I guarantee you'll be seeing a sailboat, an ocean, and maybe even some of those big-titted mermaids doing some of that lesbian shit. Look at me, look at me, you sloppy bitch!
Come, son of Jor-El! KNEEL BEFORE ZOD!! Snootchie-bootchies.
Dude, this one looks like your mom.
Dude, you the mad chick magnet.
Okay Lunchbox, let's try this again. We tie you to the roof and you jump off and sail like a Spitfire passing right over the arch nemesis La Fours. You then swing up to the stage and knock out the pin. And when that's gone, the stage is trashed and we go smoke a bowl. You got it? Now get your fat ass up there. And dude, don't forget your helmet. Snoogans.
Human brown-eye here is a walking calamity. We're gonna' have to take a pass on the stage-trashing business, otherwise he's liable to kill himself. Sorry bro'.
That guy's faster than Walt Flanigans Dog!
Adventure, excitement... a Jedi craves not these things.
Oh, sailboat!
When, Lord?! When the hell do I get to see the God damn sailboat?!
I think you need to get your friend some help. He seems to be obsessed with super hero sex organs.
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