Your run of the mill automitve 4 barrel carburetors which came factory on G.M. cars backnin the days of gas guzzling diosaurs with v-8 engines. Performance was erratic at best and at full throttle they would go boooooog! Was one stupid enough to show up at a street race vs a car with a holley equipped auto. Mister quadrajunk was sure to loose. You could put one on a decent hotrod engine then it would be known as a Quadra Junk Rod Molestor as it would slow it down.
Hey Leroy bring me a cup of gasoline to pour in the carburetor, so I can get the Caprice cranked, hurry up law is coming, Damn "Quadra junk" has done hung up again.
Something that losers say, they look like a beaver and smells like syrup and it smells horrid., junk refers to dick, or balls. Not a pussy. The End
Hop off my junk hoe, before I go postal on your ass
Where you falsely tag one or more legitimate e-mails as "spam" merely because you'd prefer not to read the messages due to their containing unwelcome content, such as reminding you that you owe money, are responsible for performing certain arduous/unpleasant tasks, etc.
Practicing "junk" filter abuse may indeed prevent unwelcome e-mails from showing up in your inbox, but it merely "delays the inevitable"... the chickens are still gonna come home to roost eventually (i.e., your creditors and/or da cops are still gonna come knocking on your door in da end), but by then they will be "cackling mad" at your selfish/offhanded ignoring of them and their genuine issues with you, and so they will likely scatter poop and loose feathers all over you (i.e., deal with you a lot more harshly) when they finally arrive on your doorstep, rather than just placidly settling down in their stalls for the night, the way they probably would have if you had simply addressed their concerns in a timely/appropriate manner in da first place!
when you hit a friend in the junk to see him double over and cuss at you.
lets play paint ball but no junking.
"You can hold onto something for decades, and neither you nor anyone else will ever have a use for it, but then just as soon as you throw it out, either you will suddenly need it for something, or --- even more 'painful' --- **someone else** will come to you and humbly ask, 'Do you happen to have an extra ___?'" Rrrrrggggghhhhh----!!!
I'd had a couple of old 55-gallon oil-drums stashed in da garage for da past thirty years --- my grampa had given 'em to me when he and Gram were downsizing to move into an assisted-living apartment --- and they'd just sat there and gathered dust in da corner all that time. But then just two days --- TWO STINKIN' DAYS!! --- after I'd sent 'em to da crusher for recycling, a low-income neighbor dropped by and asked me if he could have them to use as burn-barrels --- guess dat was a classic case of Murphy's Law of "Junk" at work!!
A recycling facility. A ghetto slut. Figuratively, the lowest point in the inner city.
I have some cans to return for my deposit at the urban junkhole. I been fillin' my urban junk hole Shaniqua when I needs to fuck. The poorest people go to the bottom of the urban junkhole.
to deposit a single a item secretly in a domestic setting, within a persons house that has little or not connection to that person.
The principle being that the item will not be found by the house person, until several days or weeks have elapsed.
Task objective: to confuse the house person for as long as possible.