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wienerzandbuttholez
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“Never mistake for surprise what is manifest contempt.” — The perfectly arched eyebrow over the full-tilt side-eye I’m throwing at Millionaire Garbagemaker.
It makes me like Kelly even more to know she hates it.
It makes me like you even more to know you love it.
This reflects my complicated relationship with You Can Count on Me. The end.
You’re thinking of “Overbird on a Wire.”
So…”The Vow” is that remake of “Overboard” they were talking about, right?
How dare they fail to cast Kate Hudson.
Mondo love-o over here for Higgins’ go-go-gadget fork.
Obviously you’re just racist against Italians, because Don Filigree clearly explained in the beginning of the episode that he has a “big Italian personality,” which is definitely not using affirmative bigotry to contemptibly try to justify being a superdouche.
FACT: Jen’s best album of the ’90s was “Okay Crazy.”
Toto is a CGI golden retriever voiced by Owen Wilson.
The Unnoticeable Lightness of Being.
Temporary Overcastery of a Soiled Brainpan.
I beg to differ. And as Exhibit A, I submit “Permanent Midnight.”
I nominate “Permanent Midnight,” starring permanent wankstain Ben Stiller.
The Hound of the Bassetvilles.
(confusing!)
The Picture of Dorian Greyhound.
Now is neither the time nor the place to get into your Sloth fetish again, darling.
These the fools that dropped the ghetto blaster on Grandpappy’s head.
Grandpappy can’t help his pavlovian dance-response ever since he got clunked on the head with a ghetto blaster in ’87. Maybe you’ll be a little more sensitive after you read his upcoming memoir, “Hip Hop on Pop” (ghost-written by Drs. Sesss and Dre.)
I will never call you Papa. NEVARRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!
Oh, sure. Everybody laugh it up. But you wouldn’t be laughing if Rick were not Your Boyfriend but Your Dad.
Stop it, Dad! Just stop it! You’re embarrassing me! I hate you, Dad!
*sob*
I do like to get the Baby Jesus plenty of wieners and buttholes every year.
“Wieners and buttholes AGAIN?!” — Baby Jesus, December 26, your mom’s house.
You’re thinking of the monk’s chain at the end of 69 rainbows.
This video reminds me of what my dear granddad used to say: “At the end of a single rainbow, one finds a pot of gold. At the end of a double rainbow, one finds a pot-addled dipshit.”
That’s because you can’t appreciate the fine nuance between being the guy who says to his girlfriend “You look like a fucking pig in heat and if you get raped by a pack of niggers it will be your fault” and being the guy who merely reads that shit in the news and thinks, “Great concept for my next video project exploiting young women too intoxicated to consent to participation in my multi-billion dollar cottage industry.”
Did I say cottage industry? I meant garbage industry.
At first glance, I thought your suggestion re: Chelsea Clinton’s Rock Center debut was that I should “pee that in” on all of my TV calendars, and, for a fleeting moment, I was very excited at what I imagined to be a secret clue that Clinton’s first big assignment was interviewing my boyfriend Hugh Jackman.