He was the son of Godzilla, after all.
He was the son of Godzilla, after all.
“Dear God, he’s doing H.M.S. Pintafore. We have to leave. Now!”
I was shocked to learn how far away people can read and recognize my face. Much was explained that day.
Pretty sure he was counting on it. I sure as hell did it.
I once heard a nutritionist say it was better to give your kid an unsweetened cereal and a bowl of sugar and just let them go nuts, because the vast majority of kids aren’t going to spoon enough sugar on it to match what comes in the sweetened stuff. The equivalent of seven spoonfuls, if I remember right.
“TO FIND IT… TO FIND IT… TO FIND IT…”
God help you if he takes his right hand out of his pocket.
Is this something I can do? Yes.
Will I find a way mess it up? Also yes.
Shiiit, man. That honky mofo messin’ mah old lady–got to be runnin’ cold upside down his head, you know?
It’s blue play-dough, we have boundaries.
You know what somebody’s going to go and do now.
Ah, fuck I miss the goons, too. I still log in every couple of years or so. It’s sort of like walking down a street you used to live on. It’s all still familiar, but nothing is really the same.
You might as well just use sandpaper.
I was hoping you could help me with
Just kick back and relax, you’re good for 10 days!
I made a shit comment, I’ll admit. It’s just frustrating to see multiple top-level comments in meme, 196, and shit post threads shitting all over a clever joke because of a technicality. It’s a fucking giraffe, this is not a PSA.
“Orange juice, purple stuff… Sunny D Vodka! Thanks, mom!”