Going 0-327mph in less than 5-seconds, but making the mistake of deploying both of your parachutes while still under acceleration. (Resulting injury; middle english origin).
Gunner had at least 17 beers tonight and he is leaving Picardy Thirdâs the bar and going straight to work third shift implied. He is definitely coming home tomorrow with detached retinas.
Just underneath crap, which is an overused term.
Your guitar playing is worse than crap. It is ass-crap.
When you suspect that you have diarrhea and your suspicions turn out to be correct, however, once you release it turns out to be rather soothing! You get instant relief, no pellet-gun-like velocity, not much upward splattering, and to your pleasant surprise, very little toilet paper consumption to clean up. More oily grease than shit. The only downside is that it smells like a combination of penicillin and methane, with a hint of wide-open ass. Flushes clean. Very little evidence that anything remarkable took place in the airport stalls. Leaves you wondering if that was, indeed, the highlight of your month so far. It is the simple things in life.
Jesus Christ, for all the noise I heard 5-mins ago from my corner office, adjacent to the womenâs restroom, Darcy must have had laminar flow. I can only smell air freshener and Z-Pack. All clear! Yâall can come in and pee. (Many of the office girls were drinking vodka at lunch, thus the pent-up demand).
A death metal band made up primarily of medical students, or worse, resident physicians.
Q: Want to head down to Picardy Thirdâs tonight and catch the Endoscopic Remains set?
A: Who?
2000 assloads
Just because you were at Costco doesnât mean we need a fukin ass-ton of toothpicks. These toothpicks will outlast me you stupid fuck-ass. Ass-fuck. You think I work all week for some muthafukin toothpicks?