Don’t Mean To Quibble, But That Wasn’t Quite My Entire Wish
I appreciate you ladies showing up for me here today. It’s a gesture that bespeaks your great concern for your fellow man.
The signed football was a great thrill. I mean it. I’ll treasure it for my remaining days. That cheer you did for me? Moving stuff. Kinda catchy, too.
But it’s not exactly what I had in mind.
You see, when my parents put in the call to the Cowboys’ public relations department, they told team representatives that it would be my dying wish to get to meet the Dallas Cowboys’ cheerleading squad. Can’t quite say that was inaccurate, but they left out a few small but significant details.
Nurse, would you give us a minute?
Now, over in the chair in the corner you will find a riding crop and a couple bottles of high-end lotion. I don’t think I need to explain what comes next.
Hey! Where are you going? No! Wait! Stop! Hey!
John Challis got to meet Ben Roethlisberger and Mario Lemieux and they had sex with him! It’s not like I have AIDS. I have cancer. That’s the new, hip terminal disease! Didn’t you see that South Park?!
I’m so close to the end and I just want to get laid one last time.
I have sex toys!
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May 12th, 2008 at 5:42 pm
Now this I fully understand.
May 12th, 2008 at 5:48 pm
I thought ever kid’s dying wish was to watch his dad being blown by Dolly Parton.
May 12th, 2008 at 6:14 pm
Well done. I enjoy molesting young boys and using cliched phrases.
May 12th, 2008 at 6:55 pm
TSW - The thought of watching my dad get his cock sucked is just wrong. Thanks for that.
May 12th, 2008 at 8:17 pm
Don’t thank me. Thank Robert Schimmel for that joke.
May 13th, 2008 at 9:24 am
Mike Harris’ Cancerous Cock Is Growing So, So Beautifully So
Pacman makes it rain below
The Ring of Honor
In Hearts
In Roses
In Wheel Chairs
May 13th, 2008 at 9:56 am
@awful chief
You forgot…affirmed
May 14th, 2008 at 10:22 am
You’re not the guy the Washington Post fired, are you?
Too bad.
I’m sure this bit got quite a chuckle when you tried it out at eighth-grade recess.
May 15th, 2008 at 9:30 am
Eighth graders don’t have recess! We’re way too big for that little-kid stuff. Plus, my friend Tommy did chuckle when I told him during lunch. So there.
/elisha