Oh, that’ll make me do it faster.

How ’bout I just put that in front of the other two hundred emails you sent me that need to be done A.S.A.P.

They claim the amount of licorice produced each year could circle the globe 40 times — I just hope my Twizzlers didn’t go through farm country — if ya know what I mean.

You must be either A) a baby getting ready to pose for his first portrait, or B) a golf pro — and quite frankly, I’m not very fond of either. Beat it nerd.

Read the label Jack Ass.

Rock. Paper. Scissors are for the weak.

While I’m busy relaxing at the public pool, I have an idea — how ’bout you kids play Marco Shut the Hell Up.

Listen Frenchy, we don’t need your Vulgar Latin. We have plenty of our own thank you very much.

Oh….so that’s what happens when you serve laxatives and sleeping pills at a Quilting Bee.

A donut bar without a cream filled center is like a pillow fight without a pillow. It’s not funny, it just stings.

Next Food Network Star? I’m still trying to figure out what happened to the last two.

This does a lot to explain the butter ring in my toilet.

Now seriously, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

Good Lord it’s 2008 already, are you trying to tell me the science doesn’t exist to just breed one of these things.

By the way, for desert, I think I’ll have the Red Velvet cake with a Kahlua brownie shoved up its ass.

Geez, way to make a fat guy sweat.

Clearly (and hopefully) what you meant to say was that you needed to leave a dump.

Oh, that’s just lovely.

The good news: I think your teeth antiquing project is coming along very nicely.

And by SPAM, obviously I’m referring to the annoying unsolicited email that clogs my system and fills my recycle bin — not the savory delicious mystery meat with the cute can and cult following.

Ouch.

Betsy wanted a diamond — but all Rusty could give her was a freshly minted skoal ring.

Giddy ‘Up Cowgirl.

Hey Lung Blacker, the 90’s called, they said they want their cancer stick back.

It’s not so much the growing season that bothers me, but your continuous crop dusting is murder on my allergies.

Maybe you really are the weiner. Loser.

It’s time to take your own advice bathtub boy. RESIGN!

For some reason, whenever I see a dude in super short shorts, it makes me think of sun kissed avocados. Hmmmm, that’s weird.

A really good way to say “hey, I get to be the white guy”.

When I order a medium drink, I expect, — oh, I don’t know — a cup I can easily hold in one or possibly two hands. I’m still trying to figure out why Carl’s Jr. serves their “medium” drink in what appears to be a number 5 wash tub. Drink Up Sucka.

It’s like being in the desert while you’re still in the office — only better, because the desert doesn’t have shiny vending machines filled with countless other plastic bottles full of liquid sugar and yummy chemicals.

Poor misguided teenage Count Choculas. The wise man learns from others’ mistakes, the fool learns from his own.

You know you’re on the cutting edge of hideousness when even Lamborghini doesn’t use Lamborghini doors anymore.

Good news “baby” –  your parents can’t get much less classy than this.

If your opinion can seriously be swayed by what you see or hear in a political ad, you might actually be too stupid to vote.

Most of my friends like to meet up at the playground, but my idea of a good solid play date is dinner and a movie, minimum.

Price includes the ability to create creepy childhood memories; guaranteed to last a lifetime.

The world very well may be your oyster, but I’m pretty sure it’s not your conference room.

Hey, I thought Wal-mart ran the little guys outta town. Looks like they forgot to take their goofy name with ‘em.

Oh look, another media crafted stuper-word. That’s great that you plan to stay home and tool around the yard for two weeks this summer instead of taking a real vacation — I just hope your kids are too young to realize what kind of cheap good-fer-nothing parents they’re stuck with.

I’m just still trying to figure out why having bad credit means I have to quit my good job and take one that requires me to sing at a pirate restaurant.

Or what I like to call the zombie of all footwear. Apparently this is  one fUGGly fashion statement that’s just never gonna die.

Cut the poor guy some slack, it’s not his fault Nancy Pelosi is a mere 2 heart beats away from the presidency.

Judging by the reaction, you’d think she was threatening to raise taxes and socialize medicine or something. Don’t hate the player, hate the game.

Evacuation - exsmacuation. When faced with “certain death” it’s always smart to just stay put so you can party like it’s 1999 — and sunny.

Give it a rest. You’ll never out Geraldo Geraldo.

Ew, what’s that smell? — Well, it’s certainly not victory or success.

So where’s this supposed to fit into the class warfare scheme? — I’m guessing somewhere between blue collar and yellow.

Come on dude, you’ve seriously been in this country longer than I’ve been alive. Lay off the Rosetta Stone already.

Or what I like to call jogging in place and doing calisthenics while you wait for the light change. If you want some real exercise, let’s see you go before the light changes.

The weird thing is, I bet he doesn’t even know he’s lost.

Germany: commited to the look of 1987… since 1997.

Apparently it never gets old. Ever.

I used to go to the fair to watch the male belly dancers, but that was before I knew they had an entire section dedicated to unusually large animals. Would I pay another 25 cents to gaze endlessly at that gigantic side of beef? You better believe it.