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the process by which the male ejaculates on his hands, rubs the spuzz on his balls, and proceeds by inserting the balls into the assof a female who hasnt wiped properly, thus covering the ass with shit and seamen, followed by the insertion of the balls into the females mouth, and if she spits out the balls and/or throws up, the male with fart in his hand and cover the females face and reinserts for a second try.
BITCH! i swear if u dont take out the dog ill be givin you a balgarian snow cone!
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Misheard song lyric popularized by the Michael Jackson sketches on UK's Channel 4 show Bo' Selecta.
I'm bad, I'm bad. Cha'mone. Ja know it. Check da cone. Owwwwwww! Eeeeeeee hee.
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Its where two jacked midgets paint themselves orange and you have to parallel park between them.
There are also human parking cones.
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performing anal intercourse which results in ejaculation in her rectum, then her deficating in your mouth, not to be confused with the frosted brownie
So my buddy Chad, was telling me about his break-up with his ex, and there was a dutch snow cone involved.
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A collection of meme jpegs tweeted by Ryan Cohen that caused a divide between Reddit Apes and Twitter Apes right before the MOASS due to various subjective interpretations
A topic that invites shills to live inside your head rent free, leading to more aggressive buying and HODLing
An argument that is completely pointless because the shorts must cover
Diamond Hands: “If you say Cone Poo Chair really fast, it sounds like ComputerShare.”
Youtuber/Twitter Influencer: “I would never direct register because I think reading google headlines is Due Diligence. Selling my shares is all I ever think about. The important thing is that I will become rich and brainwash my followers to paperhand.”
Diamond Hands: “I just registered another share to the infinity pool.”
when little people with spray tans let people parallel park in between them
Dude, I just parallel parked in between those walking parking cones.
Euphemism for onanism, typically offered by isolated novelists.
Yo, when I talked to that dyspeptic, sesquipedalian writer dude T-Bag Slim about all those crumpled tissues next to his typewriter when his book was five months late, he brushed me off by saying, "I'm building my cone."