"I wish I had a truck and some chain -- I'd drag you facedown for a hundred miles!"
I need to say that the next time I'm angry at someone. It'll be especially good if they've only done something mildly offensive.
I write plays about John Malkovich. You, sir, couldn't write a one-act about Jon Cryer with the other one and a half men helping you out with the adjectives.
Is that so, because I wouldn't have known had you not told me; I'm told the meager crowd at your play's opening night only came to the theater because they mistook it for their habitual crack den
Of course, dummy. They were on crack. You of all people should recognize the symptoms of full-bore crack addiction, seeing as how your own mother is binging again and on the hunt for the rock. Here's how you can tell: my dick is in her mouth.
A sad state of affairs indeed, when a man has done so much crack cocaine that certain parts of his own anatomy can be mistaken for a crack pipe! That man being you! (I get the distinct feeling my dream-self was a little more on the ball)
Ha ha. You said "On the ball."
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