Doesn't this require a proctologist?

Thats a huge ASSumption. I hate cars.

I'm taking it to the garage on Friday before it suicides on me.

Huge ass crack and bumps in the ****ing pavement.

I don't pay taxes, but a lot of people do.

Cracks in the pavement are a public hazard to skaters. Seriously bros/brosettes, Quintara street? On the late-of-nights? That.****.So.Bumpy.Yo. I was having mad good funs, skating and ****in abouts. Taggin muh names cuz you know, whiteboy's gotta get some respect. Anyways. DONT ****ING SKATE QUINTARA. ****'s steep as ****, looks so damn tempting, right? But past 30th, holy **** that **** is so damn cracked. It's like skating over a bunched of rocks and sand. FIUCK. THAT. ****. **** IT. **** IT IN WHATEVER ORIFICE THOU SO PLEASETHS.

^^^

Is it selfish of me to be glad this dude's on a bender? Cause he's the best part of this site right now.

That moment when you see a pic of some girl on the internet and you're like, "Holy ****! That girl needs to abort my children!" and then you find out she's sixteen and you're like "Thanks, Obama!"

And that moment when you're whackin' it and you're almost there, almost there, almost there and then you're ****ing arm gives out. You switch to your left to keep it going, but since you're not ambidextrous this is just a stop gap for when your right is good to go again, and by then you have to start from scratch.

When I get mosquito bites for being outside at dusk. They are itchy as fuck.

When a coworker decides to wear a windbreaker at his desk, so all I hear is "swish... swoosh... swish" every time he moves for 8 ****ing hours.

Kinda like:



Haitian Voodoo Rattle Torture indeed.

I sit next to a loud ****boy salesman, consider yourself lucky.