As I lie here on the couch, still in my jammies, glassy eyed, with kleenex shoved up my nose, Big J walks up and askes "So what are you making me for lunch?". Are you serious!? What am *I* cooking for lunch? WTF IS THE MATTER WITH YOU? ARE YOUR ARMS AND LEGS BROKEN AND A PIANO STRAPPED TO YOUR BACK ASS-WIPE??
Ahhhh, the yelling felt so good. I wish I could talk that loud in real life. I think Bonehead got the point with the laser beams of death shooting from my bloodshot eyes. He is in the kitchen making grilled cheese sandwiches.. He learns quick.
ETA..holy shyte there were a lot of spelling errors in there. Gotta love Dayquil.
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