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Hey mista ill buy that livestrong from you for 20 bux even though i no its only worth 1... yay im coooool!
by jonny October 3, 2004
Get the livestrong mug.Post 1989 supporters of Arsenal football club. Derived from the novelist 'Nick Hornby', author of Fever Pitch. A book about how he was such a huge Arsenal fan, he couldn't be arsed to travel 200 miles to watch them win their first title for 18 years.
by Jonny December 23, 2003
Get the Hornbies mug.when one blows something fierce out of the good ole two hole resulting in coughing and sometimes nausea
by jonny March 12, 2003
Get the cut ass mug.1) A statement to express inner calm and tranquility.
2) Has been more recently misconceived of not being bothered or not having the energy to do something.
2) Has been more recently misconceived of not being bothered or not having the energy to do something.
by Jonny November 16, 2004
Get the nuff mug.1. a. A dramatic or literary form of discourse in which a character talks to himself or herself or reveals his or her thoughts without addressing a listener.
b. A specific speech or piece of writing in this form of discourse.
2. The act of speaking to oneself.
Late Latin sôliloquium : Latin sôlus, alone + Latin loquî, to speak.
b. A specific speech or piece of writing in this form of discourse.
2. The act of speaking to oneself.
Late Latin sôliloquium : Latin sôlus, alone + Latin loquî, to speak.
Hamlet Act 2, Scene 2:
Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I! Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit That from her working all his visage wann'd, Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing! For Hecuba! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have? He would drown the stage with tears And cleave the general ear with horrid speech, Make mad the guilty and appal the free, Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I, A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, And can say nothing; no, not for a king, Upon whose property and most dear life A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward? Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat, As deep as to the lungs? who does me this? Ha! 'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall To make oppression bitter, or ere this I should have fatted all the region kites With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain! Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! O, vengeance! Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave, That I, the son of a dear father murder'd, Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words, And fall a-cursing, like a very drab, A scullion! Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! I have heard That guilty creatures sitting at a play Have by the very cunning of the scene Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaim'd their malefactions; For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players Play something like the murder of my father Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks; I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench, I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be the devil: and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, As he is very potent with such spirits, Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds More relative than this: the play 's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I! Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit That from her working all his visage wann'd, Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing! For Hecuba! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have? He would drown the stage with tears And cleave the general ear with horrid speech, Make mad the guilty and appal the free, Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I, A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, And can say nothing; no, not for a king, Upon whose property and most dear life A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward? Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat, As deep as to the lungs? who does me this? Ha! 'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall To make oppression bitter, or ere this I should have fatted all the region kites With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain! Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! O, vengeance! Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave, That I, the son of a dear father murder'd, Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words, And fall a-cursing, like a very drab, A scullion! Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! I have heard That guilty creatures sitting at a play Have by the very cunning of the scene Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaim'd their malefactions; For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players Play something like the murder of my father Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks; I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench, I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be the devil: and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, As he is very potent with such spirits, Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds More relative than this: the play 's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
by Jonny March 30, 2005
Get the soliloquy mug.A language spoken mostly in Britain.
It derives from the popular language of 'English' but due to the great difficulty of this language, has been modified so that words above 2 syllables have been wiped out, and replaced by a selection of new words.
Chavish is reknowned for its common use of the word 'fuck,' often used as an adjective, a noun, a verb, an adverb and a pronoun.
Chavish also requires that the first syllable of one's name is taken and has 'az' added onto the end, to form a new Chavish name, eg 'Baz, Gaz, Taz, Shaz etc...'
Language experts at the university of Cambridge have been trying for years to decode this language, investing millions into 'Project Chavish' though all to no avail.
It derives from the popular language of 'English' but due to the great difficulty of this language, has been modified so that words above 2 syllables have been wiped out, and replaced by a selection of new words.
Chavish is reknowned for its common use of the word 'fuck,' often used as an adjective, a noun, a verb, an adverb and a pronoun.
Chavish also requires that the first syllable of one's name is taken and has 'az' added onto the end, to form a new Chavish name, eg 'Baz, Gaz, Taz, Shaz etc...'
Language experts at the university of Cambridge have been trying for years to decode this language, investing millions into 'Project Chavish' though all to no avail.
Chav: "Yo shaz, hows yer fuckin' kid?"
Shaz: "Buzzin' like, what is you upto now Baz?"
Chav: Im fuckin going ter get meh dole money, like, Ill catch yer later innit."
Shaz: Yeah innit.
(The Chavs Depart)
Shaz: "Buzzin' like, what is you upto now Baz?"
Chav: Im fuckin going ter get meh dole money, like, Ill catch yer later innit."
Shaz: Yeah innit.
(The Chavs Depart)
by Jonny January 3, 2005
Get the Chavish mug.by Jonny October 25, 2003
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