Messages of a Textually Explicit Nature IX


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.


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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