Messages of a Textually Explicit Nature IX

CURRENTLY IN MY MOBILE PHONE INBOX:

A bum on the street just told me to get my hair cut!

I was talking to your dad and he was saying he was worried you were gay and I was saying Sean, you have to love him anyway and he said no no, can’t do that. Pity.

E=MC HAMMER

The thought of you two brothers singing together warms my pants and brings a moistness to run down my leg and drip drip with every step. Please be more considerate.

Too lizzle- I’m nearly at the Grizzle. But I’ve to go pizzle and have a fizzle. Bizzle.

Sah-weet. If I was beside you and it was 1995 and we weren’t Irish and Paddy Casey wasn’t an alien then I would totally high five you right now. You go girl.

For the last time, I AM a nigger faggot!

See y’all real soon I reckon. I’ll be at the bar, the one wearing ten balloons, nothing more. P.S. Bring a pin.

Just before I left this morning I looked for my chumps and couldn’t see them anywhere, so we need some of those.

How was football? Are you tired? I heard you get that from exercise but what do I know.

Q: What do you call a hobgoblin in a wheelie bin? A: You don’t ever make direct contact with it- always inform the police and stay at least fifteen feet away.

Just sneezed while standing at sink. Whacked head real hard.

There are ten pins in my heart; you’ve knocked over eight. Won’t you please pick up that spare?

Oh my goodness I’m SO embarrassed! It’s not like you can just blame it on somebody else like a fart. I’d kill for a wind problem.

stigmund finds it so much easier to talk about what he likes

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