Things said by myself this weekend:

* RABBIT SMELLS LIKE A BIG PILE OF BULLSHIT!
* Fuck you, Patrick Swayze!
* That is the creepiest head I've seen in a long time.
* Why don't you go wrestle a chair?
* WAWA SMELLS LIKE A BIG PILE OF BULLSHIT!
* Dude. You couldn't pay me enough money to put eight Madagascar hissing cockroaches in my fucking mouth.
* He's on your team.
* He's on your team, too.
* What do you mean you don't have a bathroom? That's un-fucking-constitutional.
* How about a big, long drink of Coping Skills?
* Runaway truck! Runaway truck!
* I played 'Chubby Bunny' one time. But, we called it 'Fluffy Bunny'. And there wasn't any cockroaches involved.
* Is she breathing fire out of her snatch? How exactly does one find out they possess that skill?
* Where the FUCK is that child's keeper?
* She's been eating retard sandwiches or something.
* RABBIT SMELLS LIKE PUSSY!
* I just saw a seven foot tall man in a kilt lay an eleven year old boy on a bed of nails and then break a cinder block on his stomach with a sledgehammer. That makes me hot.
* Donkey! Donkey! Donkey!
* We're following ourselves again.
* What do you mean you don't know who Lobster Boy is?!
* He reeked of beer. Either that or it was gasoline.
* You almost blinded me! In my eye!


All in all, it was a pretty fucking aces weekend.