Canadian Fucking Boxing Day: GET BACK TO WORK
That's right. Jesus's birthday was YESTERDAY. Why are you not at work? What, hungover on Spooch-Nog? GET BACK TO WORK.
You still know my policy. GWiMMRN:
A) Spooch-Nog.
B) An urban bum, living off the "land."
C) A suburban bum, living off the "parents."
D) Something that tastes great fresh out of the oven.
E) The Fruit Compote Shits, with attendant flatulence.
F) A long, low, mournful wail of a fart, tooted whilst passing a hundred little shitlets that tumble forth like marbles out of a velvet bag.
G) A big, fat Canadian Boxing Day cock, eh?
You still know my policy. GWiMMRN:
A) Spooch-Nog.
B) An urban bum, living off the "land."
C) A suburban bum, living off the "parents."
D) Something that tastes great fresh out of the oven.
E) The Fruit Compote Shits, with attendant flatulence.
F) A long, low, mournful wail of a fart, tooted whilst passing a hundred little shitlets that tumble forth like marbles out of a velvet bag.
G) A big, fat Canadian Boxing Day cock, eh?
posted by My Mouth at 8:43 AM
5 Comments:
Option F) is the most beautiful metaphor I've ever read. You should write poetry.
I'm not looking at E), for obvious reasons.
Sickos!
That ain't funny, eh? Take off, you hoser!
It's just a picture of fruit compote, for goodness sakes. Grow up, will you?
Nuh-uh. There's NO WAY I'm looking at that picture. After the monkey pissing in the guy's mouth, I'm wise to your sick tricks!
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