$20,000 of your own money.

$30,000 worth of mac and cheese.

1/4th teaspoon oil.

17 men and one egg.

2.5kg of sand in my butt.

2nd grade.

30 years of hard work.

A 10-minute period of intense concentration.

A 4-day grace period.

A Canadian food truck.

A French waiter or something.

A God damn micropenis.

A Japanese sex doll, raised by dogs.

A TSA pat-down.

A bacon-wrapped plate of spaghetti.

A bad choice of vacation destinations.

A ball pit full of dirty babies.

A belly full of chips.

A belt way too big for your small hands.

A big door for a small man.

A big old white penis.

A big, beautiful bathtub filled with ketchup and pickles.

A bit of poopy time after shaving.

A bit of vomit.

A bit of white wine.

A bizarro world where cattle are man’s best friend.

A black feather boa.

A bloodstained flute.

A boss as good as he is dumb.

A bottle of lotion.

A bowl of rotting shrimp.

A box full of ashes.

A bunch of dudes chomping on a potato chip.

A bunch of tiny, sweaty balls.

A canoe filled with blood.

A cheap beer.

A city of gold, flowers, and waterfalls.

A coffin filled with dead Alaskans.

A cowardly ass who just farted.

A cowboy who stands up for America.

A crazy, balls-to-the-wall presidential debate.

A crocodile in a white coat.

A cruel God who punishes those who sin.

A cruel, useless politician.

A crush on a Democrat.

A cute belt-buckle.

A cute boys’ club.

A damsel in distress.

A dark blue hairdo.

A dash of cinnamon.

A day of deliciousness.

A death wish.

A dinosaur that eats your face.

A dog chowing down on my penis.

A dose of reality.

A drone that probably killed a couple hundred people.

A dude in a suit.

A dude who died of senile dementia within 24 hours of eating a hot dog.

A dude.

A fart so intense it shatters your eardrum.

A fart that’s just not right.

A father’s devotion.

A fiery death.

A freakin' 'nado.

A freaking hippo.
A freakin’ ‘nado.

A fully dressed up walrus.

A gazillion dollar contract.

A general who does not play by the rules and abuses his position.

A gerbil named "Her."

A golden spoonful of porridge.

A good man who loves his country.

A guy that knows how to talk to a girl.

A half hour of meditative silence.

A half hour of pain and pleasure.

A half hour’s labor.

A half-assed clone of Randy Savage.

A half-assed nipple lick.

A half-decent guinea pig.

A half-hour massage by some wise older man.

A handsome teenage boy who probably does drugs and is gay.

A heavenly glow.

A hole to waste the blood of rich people.

A horny hobo.

A horse so soft that it defecates every night.

A horse that acts like it hates you.

A horse that is both sexual and physically dominating.

A horse that is too stupid to know he’s stupid.

A horse that isn’t a joke.

A horse that only moves its head when it wants to mate.

A horse whose ass is all shaved and tanned white.

A hot air balloon that never comes down

A hot air balloon that never comes down.

A hot night in Japan.

A house that is built with books.

A jolly good bowl of soup.

A kangaroo that only wants to be hugged.

A kid who’s never seen a pool, but knows what pool means anyway.

A killer's diet of bush, cucumbers, and feathers.

A killer’s diet of bush, cucumbers, and feathers.

A lean, mean gerbil.

A little bit of this, a little bit of that, and some fish porn.

A little boy who never made it home.

A living wage.

A lot of bad stuff.

A lot of ejaculating.

A lot of jiggling and grunting.

A lot of liquid.
A lot of war.

A lot of wrinkly, paper-thin skin.

A lush carpet of velvet.

A magic bullet that can fix all of your ills.

A man cave filled with scalding hot garbage.

A man of God who simply wants the best for America.

A man smoking what he calls his “joint”.

A man so hot you just cum.

A man so sweet you wish you could wash his tears away with a handkerchief.

A man so tall and strong, he can wallop anyone.

A man that can never have enough bread.

A man who calls himself a feminist.

A man who can hardly walk without leaning on a cane.

A man who has porn on his hard drive and who masturbates to it.

A man who has seen better days.

A man who is hungry and thirsty.

A man who is without conscience.

A man who kills with no qualms.

A man who makes money by committing fraud.

A man who needs no introduction.

A man who runs his mouth like a goddamned teacup.

A man who seems unable to understand female sexuality.

A man who wants to play tether ball with you.

A man who will carry your kids for eight hours.

A man who would do anything to have sex with a dead body.

A man with a beard who doesn’t know shit about cars.

A man with a huge cock and a mustache.

A man with a penis and an ass.

A man with an obsession with Captain America.

A man with a… uh… a nose.

A man with his balls in a hat.

A master sergeant who roams the battlefield slaughtering innocent civilians.

A mean little box with nothing inside.

A minimum standard of behavior.

A monkey with no hands.

A morbidly obese man climbing a wall.

A nasty big man.

A necktie that says “this is what it’s come to”.

A never-ending homework load.

A new TV channel called Poop TV.

A nimble marine who hunks and spits bullets.

A nine-foot-tall tarantula.

A noble horse bred and trained for sport.

A note signed by Marco rubio.

A nude autopsy.

A nylon stocking full of snot.

A pack of cigarettes and a vodka tonic.

A pee-pee in the ass.

A penis as big as my fist.

A penis named “Joe”.

A penis no larger than a grapefruit.

A penis that comes out of the side of your head.

A penis that has a conscience.

A penis that vibrates when you pee.

A penis that’s super tiny.

A perfectly round turd.

A pesky white child.

A pickle.

A piece of my father’s corpse.

A pile of ashes.

A pile of broken vibrators.

A pile of cookies.

A pile of dead ducks.

A pile of injured and emaciated cows.

A pile of naked cherubs.

A pile of poop that’s only 50 feet from where you are.

A pile of trash.

A pissed-off Anne Frank.

A poop-stained Bible.

A proud first responder.

A public bender.

A public reprimand from the Chancellor.

A public strip party.

A puff of ozone.

A quick Google search for “wife swapping”.

A radical rethinking of public education.

A rapier through the heart.

A real fucker.

A really slow and skillful kiss.

A really tall antelope.

A redneck arguing with a snow cone.

A rollicking jazz session.

A rubber baby.

A rusty .50 cal barrel loaded with 800 rounds of chicken shit.

A saltwater bunny.

A sandwich too many.

A sandy bum.

A schlong with lungs.

A seahorse or two.

A secret hater.

A seductive bulge.

A sentient tree that responds to your commands.

A sexy cabinet maker.

A sexy hacker named Faith who can read minds.

A sexy new career as a prostitute.

A shitty joke that has no meaning.

A short dance so you won’t think about the war for 10 minutes.

A sick flush.

A single mom who does it all.

A single-payer health-care system.

A slow, agonizing orgasm.

A small mound of skulls.

A smaller, blacker, better-looking dick.

A stern, authoritative father.

A strong, credible threat.

A study that proves my point.

A stunning chest.
A sure-fire way to die.

A swoopy mustache.

A tall white boy from San Diego.

A team effort.

A tearful confession.

A thick, cloudy sludge.

A third of America.

A time when heroin was a fun prescription for headaches.

A tiny boy who’ll never be anything.

A treasure chest containing hamster, guinea pig, and porcupine parts.

A tree that knows what sex is.

A troll that uses metaphor as its dominant language.

A tropical fishy.

A tuxedoed college professor.

A two-headed panda.

A two-mile-long burrito.

A vagina full of raw meat.

A vibrator so big you can’t fit it under your pillow.

A wasabi stick penis.

A way to die that’s fast, painless, and utterly cathartic.

A way to erase your homosexuality.

A way to explode someone.

A way to feel good forever.

A way to live that is stable and satisfying.

A way to magically get a hand job from Gilbert at 2AM.

A way to make blood and drink it.

A way to open a fridge with my mouth.

A well-placed molotov cocktail.

A wet fish.

A witty remark.

A woman a mile away.

A woman as beautiful as my wife.

A woman doing a flip flop.

A woman holding a gun to my head and telling me to relax.

A woman in her fifties explaining why men are animals.

A woman lead.

A woman named Terry who is barely larger than a pinhead.

A woman president who has a private e-mail server.

A woman speaking her mind.

A woman who believes in the economic equality of the sexes.

A woman who is both attractive and powerful.

A woman who is loyal, smart, and funny.

A woman who is so sharp she can cut anything in two.

A woman who is so smart I'm like "whoa."

A woman who is so smart I’m like “whoa”.

A woman who is so smart that she can predict the movements of 300 birds.

A woman who looks like me but talks like George Clooney.

A woman who loves Chipotle!

A woman who once had a threesome with Brett Favre and Blake Shelton.

A woman’s happiness.

A woman’s lips.

A woman’s natural breasts.

Abandoning the reservation.

About 150 feet of rope.

Absolute certainty that I don’t have herpes.

Absorbing all the facts.

Actually dying.

Adam Sandler and his shitty movie collection.

Adding a magic marker to your quesadilla.

Aggressive outbursts of feline intensity.

Alcohol-fueled fist fights.

All the beasts of the Earth, man among them.

All the cocaine in Columbia.

All this fur!

All this weed my grandma got caught smoking.

All those delicious carbs from white bread.

Allowing mother nature to do her thing.

Also, an onion.

An adult lesson on power points.

An apple, please.

An asshole who’s just in it for the pussy.

An egg full of gooey, moist honey.

An elaborately crafted experiment.

An emotional outburst.

An endless ocean of blackness.

An enormous blob of flesh.

An eternal alliance between the little people and the big guy.

An event horizon.

An expensive dinner that left my girlfriend feeling ashamed of her body.

An extra set of legs.

An ice chest full of skulls.

An impassioned plea for mercy.

An infinite stream of dick pics.

An interest in the first lady’s vagina.

An intimate encounter with the secret gay in your family.

An oily pussy.
An old man who just died.

An old man whose last bowel movement was when he was seven.

An old people’s home with little or no plumbing.

An old, grumpy white guy who is just used to everything.

An orgasm so strong it turns you into a jellyfish.

An unholy alliance with the mosspeople.

An unwanted breast feeding.

An utter failure of a husband.

Another bathtub full of milk.

Another shit hitting a fan situation.

Another unspeakable act of violence.

Answering the phone by pressing it.

Anti-personnel fragmentation grenades.

Ants in my fair.

Anus tattoos.

Applying for and getting rejected by grad school.

Asking for a vasectomy while people stare at you.

Asking for permission first.

Asking how old a turtle is.

Asking me to come over and fuck your husband.

Asking your mom about Cialis.

Asking your teenager to dance for you.

Asking “what the fuck?”

Asking “where are your manners?”

Attacking horses and birds.

Autumn fashion.

Babbling incoherently.

Backwards genitals.

Ball pain.

Banishing a friend to a less favorable planet.

Barack Obama’s long hair.

Barbara Bush’s left breast.

Barfing bird poop.

Barnacles.

Beaver pelts.

Becoming a fleshlight.

Becoming a national treasure.

Becoming a space damsel in distress.

Becoming an Olympic champion.

Becoming angry at lowlifes for wearing jeans.

Becoming impossible to stay away from.

Becoming less and less attractive.

Becoming the pope.

Beheaded human beings.

Being a burden to others.

Being a connoisseur of fine wines.

Being a decent person.

Being a good ole’ boy.

Being a lazy ass.

Being a liberal arts professor.

Being a mediocre dancer.

Being a misogynistic asshole.

Being a total down-to-Earth guy.

Being a total nincompoop.

Being able to pay less for the same stuff.

Being able to reach with your anus and touch the clouds.

Being an unsuccessful writer.

Being arrested by the LAPD.

Being born in 1934.

Being condescending to those with lower incomes.

Being disgusted with your fellow man.

Being disrespectful to elders.

Being excited about my girly stuff.

Being fully clothed.

Being gluten intolerant.

Being horny and sad.

Being impervious to criticism.

Being in a constant state of anxiety.

Being in such a hurry.

Being incredibly picky about what gets eaten.

Being man enough to eat raw horse flesh.

Being more like me.

Being on a liquid diet.

Being on all fours.

Being perfect, like mommy.

Being poor while hanging out with rich people.

Being pursued by green men.

Being quite wealthy.

Being raised Jewish, and realizing I’m not.

Being ready to have sex any time, anywhere, with almost anything.

Being sexy and all that jazz.

Being sexy and wearing a strapless bra.

Being sick of life and moving on.

Being so cool that everyone around you starts fucking.

Being so weird.

Being so white and American.

Being super cute.

Being super stupid.

Being thankful your mom is alive and kicking.

Being the best dad ever.

Being the only blond male with a doctorate in mathematics.

Being thrown under a bus.

Being too damn smart for my own good.

Being too small for big men.

Being totally out of touch with the rest of the world.

Belting out hit singles.

Big Jeff's tongue.

Big Jeff’s gigantic dong.

Big Jeff’s huge, strong, pot bellied pig.

Big Jeff’s terrible greasy boner.

Big Papi’s remarkable longevity.

Big Pat, the bulldog who made me.

Big business, man.

Big city food.

Big dogs.

Big dreams, big balls, and big tits.

Big gay hugs.

Big mouth Gary.

Big sister dominance.

Big spending moms.

Big, powerful poops.

Bigotry.

Bilbo’s fantastical adventure.

Birthdays.

Bitches bitches bitches bitches bitches.

Blinding whiteness.

Bombarding the locker room with negative social pressure.

Bone-dry screwing.

Borrowing a stranger’s sperm.

Bracing for impact.

Bragging about how tall you are.

Breast milk in the mail.

Bringing yourself to orgasm.

Busking in an airport.

Buying a dog for $20,000 at the pet store.

Buying a plane ticket to Berlin.

Calling in a death threat.

Calling it a day and leaving.

Cancer… again.
Carrying a child around on your back like a sack of potatoes.

Carrying a large load.

Carrying a loaded gun to work.

Ceasing to be funny.

Cecil the lion.

Cheap booze, dirty needles, open containers, and dead livestock.

Cheerios and ball gags.

Child bridesmaids.

Chocolatey brownie batter.

Choking on my own vomit.

Christmas wishes from my best bro.

City halls.

Civil discourse.

Clapping when someone says “banana”.

Class action lawsuit no. 2013-1.

Cocaine for lunch.

Coffee sippin’.

Coming back for more.

Complete and total annihilation.

Completely useless knowledge.

Constant weeping.

Constantly feeling that something is missing.

Consuming a quadrillion calories.

Consuming baby food without the wife’s consent.

Consuming delicious meat.

Consuming rice.

Consuming spaghetti from a trash can.

Consuming two cans of dog food in a single day.

Consuming unapproved medications.

Consuming water and feeling perfectly safe.

Consuming water that is crystal clear and free of impurities.

Consuming your enemy.

Cooking like a 4-year-old.

Copious amounts of dick.

Crawling under the covers.

Crayon art that’s so good you want to play with it.

Crocodiling.

Crying in the shower because you killed some people.

Crying inconsolably in front of a bank teller.

Crying into my porcelain hands.

Crying my eyes out.

Cum poo.

Cum-smacking my nutsack.
Cumming a couple times.

Cumming in a sexual manner.

Cumming in an old man’s ears.

Cumming in his mouth.

Cumming on a soldier’s face.

Cutting out pieces of your own body with a scalpel.

Daddy’s cajun cuisine.

Daddy’s pet: the hamster.

Daddy’s sick biceps.

Dangerous gay vibes.

Dank memes and blowjob farts.

Dat butt hole.

Decades of undeniable data that proves climate change is happening.

Deciding to give up on life.

Defending heterosexuality.

Denying all knowledge of the past.

Developing a clitoris.

Diaper sprinkles.

Dinner with Mitt Romney.

Discovering what actually happened to my daughter that Sunday.

Divorce court juries.

Dog puke.
Doing a backwards flip and breaking your rib cage.

Doing a goddamn flip.

Doing a triple-take.

Doing exactly what I said I would.

Doing some impressive stuff, then going into a deep depression.

Doing the two-finger salute.

Doing what his big, soft mouth says.

Doing your civic duty.

Donald Trump’s strange and narcissistic behavior.

Dressing up as Pac-Man and seeing a museum exhibit as Pac-Man.

Drinking as fast as you can.

Drinking one last beer with grandma before she dies.

Drinking white wine, dancing, and yelling at my children.

Drone strikes.

Drooping nipples.

Drunken frothing rage.

Dry humor.

Dry-humping both my bae and my cruise shipmate.

Dying of shame.

Dying to attend the baby shower.

Eating 10 lbs. of baby food in one night.

Eating a $100 burrito and being too lazy to make dinner.

Eating a big bunch of yellow flowers.

Eating a carrot before bed.

Eating a chicken nugget.

Eating a cookie to feel happy.

Eating a cookie while yelling “fuck it!”

Eating a raspberry.

Eating a small dinner and then lying down again.

Eating a warm, juicy pizza, and then, for some reason, waxing your fanny.

Eating an entire pineapple and being sad for hours afterwards.

Eating an entire shrimp dinner and waking up four hours later.

Eating apple pie and nodding my head repeatedly at my watch.

Eating as much as I want.

Eating breakfast that has a parrot in it.

Eating bugs to survive.

Eating cheeseburgers with my penis in my butt.

Eating every last cupcake in the country.

Eating green vegetables and staying under 25.

Eating healthy.

Eating high school boy meat.

Eating lizards with chopsticks.

Eating meat that’s been doused in the ocean.

Eating potato salad and riding a horse.

Eating sandpaper to the point of madness.

Eating some cheap French fries and feeling like a whole person.

Eating something really disgusting, like a leprechaun’s butt.

Eating soup in the nude.

Eight dry holes.

Eight semesters of college coursework.

Ejaculating exhaust gas into the stratosphere.

Ejaculating fruit punch.

Ejaculating in an alleyway because your life sucks.

Ejaculating into a pillow and crying until God gives you another egg.

Eldritch abominations.

Elon Musk, founder of musk.

Ending mother’s life.

Endless stress.

Enthusiastic consent.

Epic blowjob miracles.

Erasing all traces of Christmas from the face of the Earth.

Eric Trump riding in on an elephant.

Eringiati, the angry, terrible centipede.

Even more evidence that Jesus was gay.

Even more passwords.

Even more sauce.

Even more soy sauce than normal.

Every bathroom in America.

Every form of physical or mental violence that your body can take.

Everybody getting killed except for Kanye.

Everyone being taller and bigger than last year.

Everyone fucking a horse.

Everything I’ve ever done for money.

Everything and nothing.

Everything that isn’t a condom.

Everything that’s wrong with the world.

Explaining my roommate’s boyfriend has the hots for me because I’m so pretty
and sexy.

Exposing the corrupting influence of money in politics.

Eyeliner that is just eyeliner.

Failing to comprehend the essence of an apple.

Failing to stop the bleeding.

Falling asleep with my phone in my hand.

False flags.

Fantasizing about both my parents’ 50th and final wedding anniversaries.

Fantasizing about zucchini.

Fantasizing that I’m dead.

Farts falling out of my butt.

Farts in the mailbox.

Father’s appetite for beef.

Father’s bright, welcoming smile.

Father’s cough.

Father’s dying words.

Father’s most trusted disciple.

Father’s mysterious fascination with the Bible.

Father’s prejudice.

Father’s quesadilla.

Father’s strong, smooth shoulders.

Father’s thunderous laughter.

Father’s weary gaze.

Feeling completely alive.

Feeling like your entire world has just collapsed.

Feeling like your whole world is collapsing.

Feeling really inspired today.

Feeling your body betraying you every time.

Female firefighters.

Female massagers.

Female shooters.
Field mice.

Finding a nipple and being like "Oooh! That's a nipple!"

Finding a nipple and being like “Oooh! That’s a nipple!”

Finding that the coffee table in your parents’ room is no longer that coffee table.

Fingering so good.

Fingering the umm, I don’t know, stomach.

Finishing the math homework and then just passing out.

Firing all the white women.

Fitting in with the kids.

Floating about in a graveyard

Floating in a tank of eggnog.

Floor food.

Flowers and stuff.

Fluctuating between lethargy and ecstasy.

Flying bad guys.

Food for your eyes, not for your lips.

Foods my son will love.

Free grub!

French fries with jizz on them.

Fresh milk from kids.

Freshly gathered pubes.

Frog ass.

Fucking an elderly yoga instructor named "Scar".

Fucking every bimbo in Rome.

Fucking everybody.

Fucking the hell off.

Fucking up America’s budget.

Fumbling with the camera.

Garfield penis.

Gary's dad, Gary.

Gassy playmates.

Gender fluidity.

General unhappiness.

Gerbils with sticks for arms.

Getting a dental license.

Getting all huffy and whining about unfair competition.

Getting all hung ho about some shit.

Getting cut in half by a falling watermellon.

Getting even with dad.

Getting excited about bacon.

Getting expelled because you openly discussed your desire to blow up the
world’s dams.

Getting fed up with hearing about pooping.

Getting masturbated to.

Getting my son back.

Getting naked at the mall.

Getting scared and throwing myself on the floor of my parent’s bedroom.

Getting some great compliments on that great ass of yours.

Getting the life-changing news that grandma is alive and well.

Getting up close and personal.

Getting your dick out, slapping the table, and leaving.

Giving Grandma crappy things she doesn’t like.

Giving a man a steak and sending him on his way.

Giving a woman the power to decide when and if she has children.

Giving away your eggs to charity.

Giving bears candy so they’ll kill people.

Giving birth in the back seat of a friend’s Ford Escape.

Giving birth to a frozen bear on Christmas eve.

Giving blood because you’re rich and famous and have a ton of blood in you.

Giving dad a call.

Giving grandma crappy things she doesn't like.

Giving in to my dark impulses.

Giving in to temptation.

Giving it a good scrub to make sure all the dirt is gone.

Giving it your all, but not quite coming through.

Giving me a lesson on what’s going on in Syria.

Giving me, like, a fucking Ewok.

Giving the big boy a suck.

Giving ‘em hell.

Gnarly ol’ bangles.

Godzilla getting its balls kicked in.

God’s anger.

God’s plan for you.

Going apeshit for pounds and pounds of boneless skin.

Going into hiding.

Going into the bathroom with your pants around your knees and your butt totally
out.

Going off-script and blowing someone’s head off with a lawn dart.

Going overboard with the ketchup.

Going to school, getting good grades, finding a job, and then finding out you’re a
slut.

Going with a friend to the pub.

Going with mom and dad to the carnival.

Going with my gut and spending all my money.

Going with the flow and ending up with a sandwich.

Goo nuts.

Good dental hygiene.

Gossipy tall men.

Grandpa and grandma’s shitty marriage.

Great woodworking skills.

Ground beef with mayo.

Growing a beard and a mustache.

Gun control advocates.

Gun shots to the head.

Guys I wanna bang.

Guys like you.

Guys that believe in ghosts.

Guys with black belts.

Hair problems.

Ham finger.

Hammering on the door and saying “open up!”

Hands down the best eggnog I have ever had.

Hardcore cow porn.

Harnessing the power of steam!!!

Hating mom and baiting your dad into killing her.

Having Marxist principles but also being incredibly miserly.

Having a Twitter account.

Having a conscience.

Having a fucking mouth.

Having a happy girl poop.

Having a new partner for sex. She’s a snowman.

Having a penis like a badass.

Having a soft spot for uneducated farm boys.

Having a teenage boy crush.

Having a temper that is so out of control I could rip a dude in half.

Having a tummy ache.

Having already killed them all.

Having coffee with a Russian spy.

Having difficulty coping with the death of a loved one.

Having fun, but not for very long.

Having gotten married at age 14.

Having herpes again.

Having long and luxurious hair.

Having more sex.

Having no idea how to use an electric grill.

Having no right to speak, much less act like you do.

Having several sons.

Having shitty hair.

Having the audacity to breathe.

Having the whole chicken, pretty please.

Having the worst day ever.

Having to leave your family behind.

Having to pee and not peeing.

Having too many poops.

Having yet to agree on any of this.

Hellacious ooze.

Her sweet, sweet udders.

Herpes simplex.

Hidden camera evidence.

Hiding pro-Trump t-shirts from neighbors.

High school reunion sex.

Hitting them where it hurts.

Horny teens with zero responsibility.

Hot dogs and over-the-top violence.

Hot guys with chins bigger than your balls.

Hot jokes for your hot children.

Hot little nuns who do the naughty things.

Hot pics of dogs.

Hot, bald heads.

Hot, fresh toilet water.

How I’m just like my dad.

How annoying men can be.

How boring the music has become.

How cold the snow is.

How cool it is that the beagle is my son.

How cool it would be to die.

How full my vagina can get.

How gay America really is.

How good it would feel to get my dick sucked.

How horrible it is that people who have never experienced racism find ways to
justify it.

How hot Mom is!

How old I got.

How sexy white people are.

How tough my mother is.

How you feel when you masturbate.

How “special” it is to have “proud American Indian” ancestry.

Hugs.

Hundreds of thousands of happy animals.

Hungry, unemployed college kids.

I don’t even want no clams.

I like to play with dolls because I am a little girl.

I.

Ice-cream men.
Illegal dentistry.

Illegal ham on a sandwich.

Infanticide.

Infinite taxi rides!

Insane empanadas.

Intense bone pain.

Intergalactic Congress.

Inviting God’s wrath.

It has happened.

I’m super Venus!

Jamming a fork through a glass plate.

Jeb’s pet monkey, Nando.

Jerking off in my front yard.

Jimmy Carter in a thong.

Jizzing a pool of black liquid into your lover's eyes.

Joe the cactus.

Just checking in.

Just fuckin’ laughing.

Just getting the job done.

Just going for a walk around the park.

Just sobbing.
Karate, the universal combat art form.

Keeping your kid in school.

Ketchup and vinegar stew.

Killing anyone who steps foot on my property.

Killing everyone in your vicinity.

Killing my parents in a fit of rage.

Killing, eating, drinking, and otherwise enjoying life.

Kim Kardashian, but with spider legs.

Krispy Kreme Doughnuts.

Kryptonite, by the way.

Laughing all the way to the bank.

Laughing at coworkers because your brain is cancerous and needs to be

removed.

Laughing at the uppitties.

Laughing hysterically while my partner pours coffee into my eyes.

Laundry there won’t be enough room for.

Laying a lifetime of burdens on young children.

Laying in the sun, dead-eyed and sad.

Leaking nuclear secrets.

Learning how to read once and not looking back.

Learning skills that will help you land a real job one day.

Learning to accept oneself.

Learning to survive in the depths of oblivion.

Leaving a trail of grief wherever you go.

Leaving one child standing.

Leaving your lover in Albuquerque for good.

Legally buying and selling pizza.

Legally drinking alcohol.

Letting your son enjoy a steamy threesome.

Licking jizz off of Ewoks.

Licking lettuce to feel the juicy greenery beneath your fingers.

Licking more carrots than I’d care to admit.

Licking my chaps like a champ.

Licking nuts off the floor.

Licking your teeth so hard you lose your gums.

Like a jackass, but much stronger.

Liking the guy because he said he loved dogs.

Little Timmy’s stubborn refusal to go outside.

Long, white fingers.

Long-distance anal sex.

Looking good, feeling good, doing good.

Losing my daughter to heroin.

Losing my left arm in combat.

Losing my leg to a roadside bomb.

Losing my son at 31.

Losing my son at sea.

Losing my wife at Target.

Lots of boob.

Love that’s in the air.

Luigi's presence.

Lyme disease.

Machine guns blazing.

Maintaining perfect dental hygiene.

Making a poop.

Making popcorn.

Making sure your dog knows how much you love him.

Making war.

Malnutrition.

Malt liquor diarrhea.

Man, those shoes.

Marco Rubio’s claws.

Marriage equality.

Maybe some horseradish in there somewhere.

Meat-stroking.

Mega golf.
Men with tails.

Merry old times!

Mexican money.

Military-style pants that can only be purchased by members of the armed

services.

Milking the beast.

Moist finger syndrome.

Moist, creamy cheeks.

Moist, milk-like eyes.

Mom’s creamy thighs.

Mom’s terrifying body odor.

More beautiful women than me.

More olives than you could possibly understand.

More puppies than cats.

More than enough eggs.

More than enough red meat for today.

More “salad dressing”, if you will.

Mother’s primal need to be loved.

Mouth noises.

Mr. Blume’s incredible mullet.

Mr. Froot, the hairy old goat.

Mr. Poop.
Multiple boyfriends, all the same guy.

Murdering an intruder.

Mustard on toast.

My 33 million fans.

My God, the cramps!

My bedazzled, gold-furred children.

My behavior.

My best buddy’s wife.

My body, my choice.

My brother masturbating in the garage.

My chocolate wife’s chocolate pussy.

My dad losing his shit over football.

My dad’s dietitian.

My dad’s low-fat, plant-based diet.

My dad’s terrible teeth.

My dang favorite pornstar!

My dead twin.

My deepest condolences.

My diaper.

My dildo addiction.

My disgusting, pot-bellied boy.

My disgusting, underwhelming offspring.

My dreams, your nightmares.

My employer.

My entire town being invaded by dog-people.

My extensive sexual resume.

My father cutting off all contact.

My first love and her sex moans.

My full balls.

My girlfriend, the only one who’ll have sex with me.

My girlfriend’s husband.

My girlfriend’s mom’s huge boobs.

My great-geat-geat-grandmother.

My great-great-grandmother.

My hands getting so wet, I have to go to bed.

My husband’s best friend, Jonathan.

My husband’s death rage.

My husband’s extended family.

My husband’s newfound disdain for socks.

My husband’s sexuality.

My husband’s shitty sense of humor.

My husband’s terrible parents who cheat on him all the time.

My job as your wife.

My large, floppy penis.

My life story.

My little sister’s deathbed confession.

My love for brunch.

My new friend, the contraceptive pill.

My nipples looking exactly the way they should.

My one-night stand with an archaeologist.

My opponent’s penis.

My plan to fuck my best friend’s pregnant wife.

My pretty tits.

My previous brown eyes.

My problematic family.

My religion.

My sister’s bisexuality.

My son’s confused look when he finds out I’m pregnant.

My son’s pathetic football career.

My sweat and tears.

My throbbing nuts.

My unsatisfactory five years of high school.

My words and my actions.

My. Excellent. Butt.

Naked friends night.

Napkins.

Nasty boys.

Nasty crawly things.

Natural tits.

Naughty sex time.

Nipples that are three sizes too big.

No good women to marry.

No more cats.

No pants night at my place.

Non-binary gender identities.

Non-violent civil disobedience.

Noodle repellent.

Not only having dry heaves but also wet ones.

Not quite getting the gangbusters orgasm you need.

Not the best painting.

Not the brightest person.

Not the color red.

Not the kids, but their dads.

Not the kind of quesadilla that would make Bill Gates proud.

Not the most pleasant sight, but a source of entertainment.

Not thinking twice about burning an albino raccoon.

Not using enough peanut butter.

Nothin', bitch.

Office lunches.

Old school brass bands.

One of those awesome ladies who understands your pain.

One of those really bad hombres who actually uses his drugs.

Only a very small number of survivors.

Only calling Mom to make sure she’s ok.

Only caring about the short-term.

Only chewing gum and kissing people.

Only eating/sleeping with straight people.

Only having 15 dollars to spend.

Only having sex with Bernie Sanders supporters.

Only showering once a month.

Only two of the following: almonds, pistachios, frosting, cream, or miso.

Oodles of clams.

Oomph! Oopmh!

Ooohing and ahhing.

Other nations.

Our buddy with the bowling balls.

Our business partner, the Koreans.

Our delicate, young body.

Our entire fucking military.

Our most significant technological advance: the refrigerator.

Our planet, Earth.

Our socially restrictive views on masculinity.

Our unfair, nasty tax system.

Over 8- badgers in a single shed.

Over-eating.

Overreaching and smashing my partner.

P. F. Chang’s fusion of casual and formal cuisine.

P.F. Chang's fusion of casual and formal cuisine.

Paleontology, the science of dinosaurs.

Pandas sucking the dicks of men.

Papa’s little black dress.

Passing the butt test.

Pasta that is simply out of control.

Pedicures.

Peeing a few feet in the air.

Peeing in the microwave.

Peeing on a banana and thinking of words.

Peeing with me.

Penile tumors.
People falling over.

People like you.

Perhaps the end of the human race.

Persistent gerbils.

Pig ass.

Pill-popping.

Pills.

Pissing in someone’s ass.

Pissing on my own feet.

Pissing out a creature.

Placing a pillow over Lisa’s face and saying goodbye to Lisa.

Plaid shorts.

Planning my child’s funeral.

Ponying up for nachos.

Poop falling out.

Pooping in slow motion.

Poor performance and general incompetence.

Pork ribs on the grill.

Porridge all day long.

Power drills.

Powering through law school.

Pretending I’m a doctor.

Pretending that I’m not secretly into porn.

Pretending that sexism doesn’t exist.

Pretending that the Confederate Flag doesn’t represent white supremacy.

Pretending the Prozac is helping.

Pretending to be intelligent enough to keep up.

Pretending to care about cats when in reality I just like fucking them.

Pretending to not notice the skunk crawling up your butt.

Pretending you’ve never eaten food before.

Pretty bad migraines.

Protecting and preserving our Constitution.

Proving that girls are people too.

Public indecency.

Puddles of poo.

Puffing out your chest.

Punching a Republican until they bleed.

Punching a creeper.

Punching this wall till it caves.

Puppies being chased by ninja puppies.

Puppies having sex.

Pussy feet.

Putting up with shit from your boss all the time.

Putting your big, blind clown down.

Quietly whispering, “don’t look now”.

Quite the conga line.

Raising taxes to pay for this stupid war.

Ramblin’ a little bit.

Randomness.

Ratzilla.

Reading a “Slice of Life” parody and falling into a sack of puppies.

Reading an entire book called "how to masturbate" because you're a child.

Reading an entire book called “How to Masturbate”, because you’re a child.

Reading millions of words about awkward teenage couples.

Reading, making friends, learning, going for a walk, and trying new things.

Real men breathing.

Really bad table manners.

Really big balls.

Really fucking bad news.

Really good eyesight.

Really loving you and wanting to become your forever best friend.

Really not liking it when folks ask me if I’ve ever had sex.

Really not wanting to do this.

Really, really bad arthritis.

Receiving a kiss on the lips from Vladimir Putin.

Receiving an invitation to breakfast from Senator Ted Cruz.

Red wine and crack cocaine.

Rednecks with outstanding test scores.

Refusing to shower with my biological father.

Releasing a lethal quantity of birds.

Relentless self hatred.

Repeating my responsibilities as a citizen as long as I live.

Restoring order to the galaxy.

Rick Perry’s dicks.

Roach-infested mattresses.

Rotting in jail.

Rubbing my hairy pussy on the dean.

Rubbing your balls for hours.

Ruining my dad’s birthday.

Ruining the soup daddy got cooking.

Running a hot dog into a clown’s skull.

Sailing to the rescue.

Saurkraut.

Saving France.

Saying “I can’t believe I’m pregnant again”.

Scamming someone.
Scented candles.

Screaming "there's a hawk up my ass!"

Screaming at children because that’s what I always do.

Screaming into the phone while your partner fucks another woman.

Screaming out loud all the things you’d like to yell.

Screaming while digging into mashed potatoes.

Screaming “I’m pregnant!”

Screaming “poopy face” for seven minutes straight.

Screwing up the grammar.

Sea lion pheromones.

Secret CIA moon prisons.

Secretly hoping that the sun never rises today.

Secretly listening to unapproved political music.

Secretly wishing everyone who married you stayed in marriage.

Seeing how you’re doing.

Seeing what mom says.

Semen that is too green.

Semen which is hot, steamy, tangy, delicious, breathable, and holy.

Semi-annual ping-pong tournaments.

Sending emails with fake attachments.

Serving four terms as senator.

Setting everyone on fire with just a twirl of the wrist.

Seven-foot-tall muscular bed bugs.

Severe eye strain.

Sex with a bear, and then, finally, having sex with a bear.

Sex with one eye open.

Sexually provocative attire.

Sharing a spoonful of stew with grandma.

Sharing your clitoris with someone.

Shaving yourself in the mall.

Shiny things that require maintenance.

Shitting on a statue of Christopher Columbus.

Shitty grandpa stories.

Shoddy carpentry.

Shoelaces left untied.

Shooting first and asking questions later.

Shootin’ hoops.

Shoving a doorknob up your ass.

Showering my wife with lavish compliments.

Showering the guest room with hot chocolate.

Showing some side boob in 7/11.

Showing up late to your trial.

Simple, honest dick pics.

Singing Kumbaya.

Singing a hymn to my God.

Singing a song to make a baby deer fall asleep.

Singing sad soulful songs.

Singing the national anthem.

Singing “Fare Thee Well” on my big-city hillbilly flute.

Single individuals.

Sitting down and eating a bag of walnuts because you just can’t resist.

Sitting in a park watching the birds sing.

Sitting in the back of a plane, smoking a cigar and reading the Flickr privacy
policy.

Sitting in the back of the plane, smoking a cigar and reading the Flickr privacy
policy.

Sitting in the comfort of your own home.

Sitting on Earth's largest couch.

Sitting on my son's bed thinking, "I could kill him."

Sitting on my son’s bed thinking, “I could kill him.”

Skipping out on a day at the pumpkin patch.

Slapping my husband silly.

Sleeping in my car seat.

Sleeping my ass off.

Sleeping pills.

Slipping through the cracks.

Slowly reaching the limit of my tolerance.

Slurping Brazilian pussy.

Slutty widows.

Smelling someone’s butt.

Smelly men.

Smiling and laughing while my parents divorce.

Smoking with dad.

Smuggling cocaine through customs.

Sneaking some cool animal porn into the platoon gym.

Sneezing into my dietician’s mouth.

Sniffing grandma’s booty.

Soldiers who win medals.

Some babes that have like 10 kids at a time.

Some dude that just died.

Some dude who happens to be a whale.

Some dude who has no idea what he's doing, is terrible at sex, and is likely dead.

Some dude who says he's a comedian.

Some dude who says he’s a comedian.

Some dude with a beard.

Some dude with a big dick.

Some dude with a mustache.

Some dude with a ponytail who talks about bureaucracy.

Some free cookies.

Some gunk in your butt crack.

Some guy who isn’t funny.

Some hardcore cumshots.

Some kid with glasses.

Some kind of bongo-powered karaoke machine.

Some kind of caveman dinosaur with a mane of frilly pubes.

Some kind of creepy lizard woman who lives in the bathroom.

Some kind of creepy teenager in a uniform.

Some kind of cross between a box cutter and a duckling.

Some kind of cucumber that is said to be 15 cents.

Some kind of cum gun.

Some kind of cure for crime.

Some kind of fuckin’ condom.

Some kind of futuristic warlord who rules over his people by force.

Some kind of mutated shrimp that can suck dick like a pro.

Some kind of soccer person.

Some kind of steam punk that is so hot, he can’t wait to fucking die.

Some kind of waffle that isn’t even waffle.

Some man that was just a mean man that needed to be shoved into a garbage
can.
Some mystical shit that makes you immortal.

Some nameless whore who deserves all the dick in the galaxy.

Some purple guy.

Some really cool dinosaurs.

Some sort of God of War.

Some sort of alien lobster handjob contest.

Some sort of amazing magic projector.

Some sort of amphibious horse.

Some sort of big rock.

Some sort of blow up sex doll.

Some sort of computer code that is written in mysterious letters.

Some sort of creepy father figure who teaches his children bad habits.

Some sort of crocodile-powered airplane.

Some sort of diamond, it seems.

Some sort of frog God.

Some sort of giant son of a bitch who lives in the internet.

Some sort of hip newfangled fad.

Some sort of large, hideous, leathery beast.

Some sort of oversized child.

Some sort of reanimated facsimile of an old Swedish woman.

Some sort of sentient computer that knows how to play the guitar and sing “O
Canada”.
Some sort of slimy electric pole.

Some sort of squeaky boy.

Some sort of unstoppable poo gun.

Some would say inbreeding.

Someone clearly happier than I am.

Someone who looks like you.

Soul-crushing silence.

Speaking loudly for hours on end.

Spending the night in jail.

Sperms.

Spicy applesauce.

Spicy pee.

Spreading one’s arms and saying “hello”.

Spreading the gospel.

Spreading the wealth around.

Sprinting for my life.

Squirrel burgers.

Squirrel fingers.

Stairs.

Stapling myself to a tree.

Steamrolling a bald eagle.

Still being on the fence about if I should have sex or not.

Straight-up fucking a computer.

Strangers who just want a cup of tea.

Success for my daughters.

Sucking dick all day and night.

Sucking my arm off.

Sucking my own dick until I ejaculate.

Sucking off a hummingbird.

Sucking on a baby’s feet.

Sucking on a vibrator like the crazy person I am.

Sucking on some fresh air.

Sugar. Yes, sugar.

Swallowing a snow globe.

Sweet Jason.

Syrian politics.

Takeout.

Taking my first dick in forever.

Taking the pills to feel normal.

Talking to grandma about how much I like the Hobbit.

Taylor Swift’s shitty haircut.

Teen Vogue.

Telling a child to shut up.

Telling a cute kid he’s a dumb asshole.

Telling a jokester to “get back to work”.

Telling dad I love him.

Telling my 9-year-old self that they’re ugly.

Telling my kid “shoot the shit” and farting into his face.

Telling my kids to knock it off.

Telling my mom I love her and I don’t know her anymore.

Telling my son that his favorite color is brown.

Telling people I’m sorry for how I treated them.

Telling people you’re a vampire.

Telling the truth about how bad ISIS is.

Telling the truth, or the whole truth, whichever.

Telling you my story, and then trying to kill you with a harpoon gun.

Telling your partner you love him but you can’t have sex with him right now.

Ten billion sunflowers in my beard.

That adorable, socially inept kid.

That animal I could have sworn was a monkey.

That bad boy dad I met on Grindr.

That bright light that comes from above.

That child who’ll never be anything.

That cracker that ain't nothing but a cookie.

That fun thing they do called dancing.

That guy who farts in bed and it stinks.

That horrible boy that lives in the closet.

That hot uncle you never get to see anymore.

That kid with the extra fingers.

That little chicken voice.

That shitty season of Mad Men where Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce gets
destroyed by Daenerys Targaryen's dragons.

That smooth, creamy exterior.

That special candy daddy keeps giving me.

That thing in Utah, which is a bad thing.

That time Dad was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer and died.

That time I accidentally stabbed myself with a knife.

That time I gave birth to a cow.

That time I threw up in the toilet.

That time I used a chemical weapon to win the war on drugs.

That time I went to the gym and crushed it.

That time Mommy finally divorced dad.

That time a guy accidentally pressed a cucumber against my pubic bone.

That time mom died.

That time my buddy won the $50,000 Porsche instead of me.

That time my mom died and I was adopted by the homeless guys.

That time my sister-in-law gave birth to a turtle.

That time of year when everyone farts.

That time of year when everyone is naked.

That wedding dress I never wore.

That weird face you have that looks like a turd hole.

That weird guy in high school who always had the best drugs.

The 17 dicks I’ve sucked over the years.

The Huffington Post version of the news.

The NFL players who kneel during the national anthem.

The ability to hear great blues singers.

The adorable teacher who has sex with her desk every hour.

The amount of boys my slutty roommate can fuck.

The amount of cum on my face.

The amount of disrespect my daughter has for the position she’s in now.

The amount of electricity my anus provides.

The amount of emotions a peanut would be capable of holding.

The amount of farts flying out of my butt at the same time.

The amount of fun Doug's having these days.

The amount of human suffering I’ve caused.

The amount of men who want to fuck me.

The amount of money I’ve made selling drugs for 20 years.

The amount of pent-up hate and vitriol I can summon up at any given moment.
The amount of poop one can produce in a day.

The amount of semen that a 30-year-old man can produce.

The amount of sex you could do.

The amount of spaghetti my sister dumps on me.

The amount of stress you can put a baby through.

The amount of time it takes to digest a plant.

The amount of tuna I can eat before I kill myself.

The baby odor.

The biggest yoyo in the garage.

The brain-dead.

The cold, hard truth that death is near.

The crippling sense of inadequacy you feel.

The dalmatian.

The dark place where my prostate is.

The dismembered body of a childhood friend.

The early stages of senility.

The elderly woman sitting on the right-hand side of the bed.

The elf in me.

The entire 1993-1994 season of “Saturday Night Live”.

The fact that many fish are actually birds.

The feeling of accomplishment that comes when you’ve accomplished

everything.
The feeling of crippling complacency that comes with reaching 65.

The feeling of just being.

The feeling of victory after destroying the capitol building.

The fine, hearty waifs of Rome.

The five million people who will die this year because of climate change.

The freedom to fuck whomever I want.

The gay male gaze.

The general public.

The glue that holds the sky together.

The greatest nail salon in Thailand.

The hard way.

The idea of a walrus.

The impending collapse of the middle class.

The incessant crying of your pet.

The incessant demand for additional rawhide armor and orc tusks.

The insect world.

The kind of talking that’ll get your mom to kill you.

The last laugh.

The latter half of the 20th century.

The lesbians of Iowa.

The librarian at the library.

The lowest common denominator.

The many names of the flesh God.

The mass suicide of millions of your fellow humans.

The need to impress when dealing with authority figures.

The neighbors.

The number of dead rats in my bag.

The numbers 3 and 5.

The oppressors.

The penis-shaped hole in the counter.

The perpetual war between good and evil.

The physical imperfection of an old man.

The powerful and intelligent scorpion.

The privilege of existing.

The promise of a better tomorrow.

The racist who lives in the freezer.

The real estate board of Douglas County, Arizona.

The real reason I’ve never had a baby.

The real story behind the yogurt that came out of Tina's vagina.

The rhinoceros's deeply unnatural laughter.

The road not taken.

The scientific process.

The seven bananas that make up Trump’s hair.

The sheep that ate my BF.

The shit that hits the fan when the bestiality lawyer leaves town.

The skankiest rap group ever.

The slow and tragic death of every last tree in the Christian world.

The smell of an erect penis.

The student body of Lincoln High.

The tiniest little bee.

The toothless, useless husks of your parents.

The tough love I got from Dr. Phil.

The unbaptized and the damned.

The unique sound of my parents’ cocks slapping against each other.

The unspeakable secrets of the weasels.

The vulva.

The warm affections of Santa Claus.

The weird taste of water.

The whole idea of gravity.

The words “nipple rub” coming out of your friend’s mouth.

The world as we know it.

The worst wet dream ever.

The, uh, ‘the toilet’.

Them pretty stripes.

These amazing testicles I'm about to share with you.

These awesome gadgets that track my every move.

These epic legs you got.

These friggin’ socks.

These furries.

These ghastly visions that haunt me nightly.

These guns, baby.

These kleptomaniacal rich men who run our government.

These limp and pathetic wrists.

These long, straight nails.

These morons who vote.

These mushroom legs.

These needlessly violent battles over who should be the boss.

These new jeans that look so cool but are actually so bad.

These outrageous, absurd shoes I wear to work.

These particular titties.

These scientists that are telling us that climate change is caused by humans.

These tools you’ll need to kill a koala.

Thinking about all the horrible things that have happened to people.

Thinking about all the ways I could hurt these puppies.

Thinking about my future son-in-law for two hours.

Thinking about puppies while giving a blowjob.

Thinking about what it would be like to have sex with my grandpa.

Thinking about white people while talking to a black person.

Thinking big about education.

Thinking deeply, really hard, and wishing that more people would think so deeply,
too.

Thinking of you as family.

Thinking the worst of Obama.

Thinking things through in a mature, objective way.

Thinking you’re cool.

This family.

This insignificant penis.

This life and the next.

This moth thing.

This sauce in my saucepan.

This warm feeling inside me.

This white fellow.

This whole season of Veep.

Those "military escort services" that ferry young admirals around the wax
museum.

Those who survive.

Three dogs a-choking.

Throwing a beer bottle at a cop.

Throwing a tantrum and telling everyone not to touch you anymore.

Throwing a very large rabbit at someone.

Throwing acid in your neighbor’s eyes.

Throwing ketchup everywhere.

Throwing myself at the feet of the emperor.

Throwing pizza in a crook’s ear.

Throwing rocks at a bus.

Throwing sex toys in the river.

Throwing shit at cars.

Today.

Toilet humor.

Too much damn salt.

Too much gelatin for one sandwich.

Too much grapefruit juice.

Toppling large governments.

Torturing people for their oil.

Total oblivion.

Totally hairless eyelids.

Totally hating math.

Totally ignorant and delusional opinions.

Totally ignoring your father’s death wishes.

Totally out of control feminism.

Totally turning 30 and having no money.

Totally unlearning all the baseball skills.

Touching my daughter’s ass with your lips.

Touching my toes at school.

Touching myself all night.

Train-wreck porn.

Traveling to NYC to visit my family but the food is terrible and the people are
terrible.

Tremendous speed.

Trumploaf.

Trust fund kids.

Trying and failing to wash a baby.

Trying to get my brother to like jelly beans.

Trying to keep it together.

Trying to kiss that beautiful face but having no lips to speak of.

Trying to maintain some semblance of civility.

Trying to pass the time by painting a picture.

Tubs of baby piss.

Turning on the water feature.

Twenty bucks and a handjob.

Twenty pounds of oregano.

Twenty pounds of prime beef.

Twenty years of untreated syphilis.

Twenty-somethings doing cool hip-hop things in a seedy alley.

Two arms, two legs, and a torso.

Two hours in front of the TV.

Two hungry crows meeting in the tree.

Two large pizzas.

Two left arms.

Two people and a turd.

Two sommeliers swapping wine lists.

Uncle Marco.

Uncooperative boys.

Unleash the bears!

Unspeakable acts of cruelty.

Untangling my child’s blonde locks.

Uppity bridesmaids.

Upskirt videos.

Upvote Downvote

Using anger to achieve your goals.

Using real cheese to decorate the base of a penis.

Vampire Eminem.

Very big, powerful teeth.

Very hot and spicy food.

Waaaay too much candy.

Wanting to see my daddy again, but all he wants is to play basketball with his
friends.

Warm, loving handjobs.

Watching porn on a plane with my wife.

Water cooler talk.

Weird feet.

Weird fuckin’ dreams.

Weird rules of hockey.

Weirdly delicious shrimps.

Well-deserved dysentery.

What I doin’.

What I say when I talk.

What I think about Mom.

What I want in bed.

What I’ll do to your mom.

What a good boy you are.

What becomes of leprechauns who get too old.

What feminism is all about.

What sex with Michelle Obama is going to be like.

What the powerful say and the elite do.

What they call “spaghetti” now.

Whatever caught his eye that day.

Whatever is necessary to make life satisfactory.

Whatever juice is in carrot juice.

Whatever the queen wants now.

Whatever will get these kids to sleep.

Whatever “crampylillipiddy” means.

What’s left of my dignity.

What’s left of my leg.

When I choke and choke and choke.

When a cute little guy fucks a tough old lady.

When a sauce is hot.

When government loses control.

When my father doesn’t come home.

When my pussy is ready.

When the chicken comes out.

When the surf is so quiet that you can just focus on the beautiful white sand.

When you fart.

When you fuck my brains out.

When you’re putting on makeup for a date and one of your best friends starts
pooping.

Whiskey to calm my nerves.

Whispering between his teeth.

Whispering my vagina’s name, “Jess”.

Whispering profound sentences.

Whispering to a forest owl.

Whispering “I’m your maid of honor” in a Caribbean accent.

White collar crime.

Whiter, angrier people.

Whitewater rafting with Jimmy Fallon.

Wiggling my toes in the yard.

Wiggling your hips while using the restroom.

Wild animals shitting all over you.

Wild carrots.

Wild unctuousness.

Winking and nodding.

Winona Ryder in black jeans and a blue parka.

Wishing there was more bacon in America because we’re so addicted to it.

Wishing we could all just get along.

Without a doubt one of the dumbest bracelets I’ve ever seen.

Wolf spiders.

Wondering if the sun is hot.

Wondering if your spouse is capable of breeding.

Wondering where I left my glasses.

Wondering whether or not my wife and kids even know I’m actually married.

Wondering why the fuck anyone would ever want kids in general.

Wondering why white people love baseball so much.

Yelling "jizz on it" as you eat an ice cream sandwich.

Yelling racial slurs in public.

Yelling “come on!” At your kid’s softball game.

Yelling “jizz on it” as you eat an ice cream sandwich.

Yet another angry white person.

Yet another racist tweet.

Yet another selfie, this one better than the last.

Yiffing, grunting, and moans.

Yoda’s soft, warm hand.

You know, just some onions.

You, dear reader.

Young men who really have to know things.

Your corpse.

Your g-spot.

Your love but it is only a simulation.

Your mother calling and saying she’s had enough.

Your parents having sex on camera.

Your precious grandson.

Your spouse’s passing.

Your tight, tight butt.

Your wife’s amazing jugs.

… Boy shorts.