Where’s the number for gimp mask and tutu?

Nail gun lobotomy? Or maybe that was my band name in the 00’s. I don’t remember for some reason.

Stomp: “I’ll have a rum . . . . And coke.”

Bartender: “why the pause?”

Stomp: “Dunno, I’ve always had them.”

Raw irritated penis

I can tell when the batteries on my cordless mouse have died. There’s a strange feeling of resistance when the mouse is active, but when it’s dead, nothing.

Jesus is always on the job site by 730 with his tools and a smile on his face.

Gimme a stoner any day. Better than trying to talk a roided up jock half way through a bottle of tequila out of punching his nana. I don’t consume myself because weed just puts me to sleep. I guess I’m mellow enough.

Remember when Idiocracy was a farce instead of a documentary?

I have revived multiple computers and my mom’s windshield wipers with concussive application of a rubber chicken.