Her name is Joy.
All right, I gotta post this, because, it just has to be written down. I had a weird, fucked up dream. I blame Basebowl, a weird mix of beer and cola, and my fucked up psyche. I dreamt that Ms. Pressly was nothing more than an incredibly clever cement filled anatomically correct animatronic rig, and that Chud drove thousands of miles to disprove this ugly rumor, only to confirm it. He then steals the damn thing, and then... ruins the "grease intake valve", as it were.
I am seriously fucked up.
Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children.
- President Dwight D. Eisenhower
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Jaime Pressly
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3 comments:
How can you blame basebowl when you've never even been to a league sanctioned event?
Hey...where's the disturbing part?
i would make that animatronic wench my own. i would go around the world every morning...
ATM BITCH! Taste the assey goodness...
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