January 23, 2007
If you want me to have a heart attack or vomit, then put me in a room with Carrot Top. Good freakin’ Lord what is that? Did he have plastic surgery or is he in desperate need of some? I can’t tell, but I can tell you this, it frightens me to the core. It’s like he’s saying, “come here, I want to eat your face”. Does he not have people? Like people to tell him, “listen dude, you really need to lay off the Botox”, or whatever the hell it is that you’re injecting into your face to give you that pyscho, I’m going to hack up your cat, kinda look. Be back later, I’ve got to get my garlic and wooden stake.
Posted by Sassy @
11:37 am •
Uncategorized •
January 17, 2007
Donald Frump Trump was given a Hollywood Walk of Fame star yesterday. My question is WHY? For what? The longest combover? Shouldn’t that be in the Guiness World Records book? Just sayin’. Why does he deserve a star? For shuffling around some real estate? For having the world’s largest ego? Here’s a little quiz for you…what’s bigger? Donald Trump’s ego or his scalp scarf?
I bet when he gets out of the shower, his giant muff is hanging down by his knees. I’m sure his ‘hair stylist’ (I use that term LOOSELY) has to put clothespins on his nipples so he doesn’t laugh at his client, thus getting himself fired. I’m guessing that the amount of shellac used on Trumpie’s rug each day, is enough hairspray to last most people a year or more. Maybe the stylist nails it to his head? Perhaps that’s why he’s not quite all there, his brain fluids are leaking.
Not that I want to picture ‘The Donald’ (stuck on yourself much?) and his bimbo wife having sex, but just for shits and giggles, let’s go there.
Wife: Dahling, your knee hair is getting a bit thick, perhaps you should have it waxed.
D: That’s not my knee hair, that’s my wrap! Gah.
In other related news, Mr. Dumpster Trumpster has apparently ended his feud with Rosie, which really means, he’s run out of insults ’cause grade 3 called and they want them back. You’re fired.
Posted by Sassy @
12:10 pm •
Uncategorized •
If you want me to have a heart attack or vomit, then put me in a room with Carrot Top. Good freakin’ Lord what is that? Did he have plastic surgery or is he in desperate need of some? I can’t tell, but I can tell you this, it frightens me to the core. It’s like he’s saying, “come here, I want to eat your face”. Does he not have people? Like people to tell him, “listen dude, you really need to lay off the Botox”, or whatever the hell it is that you’re injecting into your face to give you that pyscho, I’m going to hack up your cat, kinda look. Be back later, I’ve got to get my garlic and wooden stake.
