a factory filled to the heart with chiiiizzzzz
currently lacking sufficient chiiz to operate because of a robbery
may go out of business
in dire need of chiizz
pls donate asap
arigatougoazimasu
origin of chiizz factory: melbourne or sydney australia (highly debatable)
currently lacking sufficient chiiz to operate because of a robbery
may go out of business
in dire need of chiizz
pls donate asap
arigatougoazimasu
origin of chiizz factory: melbourne or sydney australia (highly debatable)
hey lets go the chiz factory!
we have to bring some chiz for donation though, they're running out of chiz because SOMEONE stole em ALL
we have to bring some chiz for donation though, they're running out of chiz because SOMEONE stole em ALL
by yourmummmmm September 5, 2018
Get the chiz factory mug.Onion Facts is a godly video uploaded on the timotainment YouTube channel. It is very educational and redacted. It includes facts such as redacted, and redacted.
by Traffic Cone April 8, 2020
Get the Onion Facts mug.Related Words
Used to refer to various social media platforms like Instagram, Tiktok, Twitter, etc... where millions of none black users enter as normal individuals, acting according to their own culture, but walk out transformed niggers. Transniggers if you will. You've seen transniggers before, they have no career because they wasted their time trying to get "clout", have images of popular rappers as their wallpapers, respond to everything with gifs of sassy blacks, they type everything in ebonics even though don't talk like that in real life, peaked in high school, among many other things.
"Oh hey Ashley! It's been so long since I've seen you, how's everything going"
"You simp ass nigga fr what the fuck you want dont you know I'm a queen fr fr mmmm CHILE I ain't got time for you"
Ashley was a product of the nigger factory, once a sweet intelligent girl with a bright future now a bottom feeding degenerate who worships African American culture
"You simp ass nigga fr what the fuck you want dont you know I'm a queen fr fr mmmm CHILE I ain't got time for you"
Ashley was a product of the nigger factory, once a sweet intelligent girl with a bright future now a bottom feeding degenerate who worships African American culture
by sendbobsandveganapics August 7, 2020
Get the Nigger Factory mug.Oh good, the felon factory went to jail and didn’t post bond, guess the production line will be shut down for a couple of months while she awaits sentencing.
by johnstockton89 October 16, 2022
Get the Felon Factory mug.1. Noun. The notion held by a person that anything done before they arrived was put in place by brain damaged trained monkeys and is complete and utter crap.
by Todi July 21, 2009
Get the The Crap Factor mug.Example 1: 'I ordered my plane ticket online without a problem. The dickage factor was really low.
Example 2: When I was traveling in country X, I needed to buy a train ticket. It took me 3 hours and almost cost me my life to go 2 km to get to the station. First I got a cab, but the driver apon just entering the flood of traffic clipped a horse-drawn cart;he got out and began a high-intensity verbal assalt on the conductor of the cart. So I started to walk to the station. The temperature started rising to meltdown levels. I walked to the side of road and my shoe was torn off by a partially open sewer hole.One shoe on and one off I flagged a cyclo (bike-powered taxi). I hopped over and got in it. After 10 minutes of break-neck peddling and hair raising riding i concluded that the cyclo driver was clinically insane or completely intoxicated or both as he swerved in and out of traffic and down the wrong way of several one way streets. As we rounded a hairpin narrow passage, I noticed that a bicycle wheel was rolling passed us. Funny that. Where could it have come from? A second later, our cyclo was airborne and sparks were flying off the axel and the tarmack from where our wheel had once been. Fortunately I hit the ground doing a pencil-stlye roll and didn't stop till my body wrapped around a U-turn sign. Now both shoes were gone. Before I moved, i did a quick inventory of my senses and body, a trick I do in morning yoga. Slowly, I made a stand feeling for my travel wallet unconsiously; it was there. Over the dust, pollution, motorbikes, cars, cows, and sundogs, I saw the train station. I looked left and right. Not Clear. I did this for 20 minutes with the same result. Finally, I saw a man cleaning car windows on the streets amongst the traffic. He darted in and around like a humming bird on Red Bull. As he drew near, I knew he was my safe vessel, my ticket to the other side and the train station. As we whipped by I jumped in behind him and mirrored his every move through the traffic. Within a minute, I was a meter away from the safe haven of the 'sidewalk.' Then, he turned and went back out into the center traffic. Within a nano-second, I decided to dart right and to the sidewalk on my own. I looked hard into the on-coming traffic, bent my torso and chest aft as a pick-up truck carrying scrap metal almost lopped off my head. in doing so, I put myself in harms way from the rear and a screamming head and horm from behind got me to bolt upright immediately. I paniced and sprinted to the sidewalk stepping on a broken bottle on the way. I tied off the bleeding cut and limped to the station. As I entered, I saw a line that was 50 people deep in front of the window selling tickets. I stood there three hours before gettting to the window. I told the seller I needed two tickets to K. He promptly stamped and wrote on a pair of tickets; I paid him and left. Apon arriving back to the hotel, I was asked how hard was it to get tickets to K. I responed with, "buying the tickets at the station was OK, but THE DICKAGE FACTOR of getting to the station was high--the dickage factor was through the roof."
Example 2: When I was traveling in country X, I needed to buy a train ticket. It took me 3 hours and almost cost me my life to go 2 km to get to the station. First I got a cab, but the driver apon just entering the flood of traffic clipped a horse-drawn cart;he got out and began a high-intensity verbal assalt on the conductor of the cart. So I started to walk to the station. The temperature started rising to meltdown levels. I walked to the side of road and my shoe was torn off by a partially open sewer hole.One shoe on and one off I flagged a cyclo (bike-powered taxi). I hopped over and got in it. After 10 minutes of break-neck peddling and hair raising riding i concluded that the cyclo driver was clinically insane or completely intoxicated or both as he swerved in and out of traffic and down the wrong way of several one way streets. As we rounded a hairpin narrow passage, I noticed that a bicycle wheel was rolling passed us. Funny that. Where could it have come from? A second later, our cyclo was airborne and sparks were flying off the axel and the tarmack from where our wheel had once been. Fortunately I hit the ground doing a pencil-stlye roll and didn't stop till my body wrapped around a U-turn sign. Now both shoes were gone. Before I moved, i did a quick inventory of my senses and body, a trick I do in morning yoga. Slowly, I made a stand feeling for my travel wallet unconsiously; it was there. Over the dust, pollution, motorbikes, cars, cows, and sundogs, I saw the train station. I looked left and right. Not Clear. I did this for 20 minutes with the same result. Finally, I saw a man cleaning car windows on the streets amongst the traffic. He darted in and around like a humming bird on Red Bull. As he drew near, I knew he was my safe vessel, my ticket to the other side and the train station. As we whipped by I jumped in behind him and mirrored his every move through the traffic. Within a minute, I was a meter away from the safe haven of the 'sidewalk.' Then, he turned and went back out into the center traffic. Within a nano-second, I decided to dart right and to the sidewalk on my own. I looked hard into the on-coming traffic, bent my torso and chest aft as a pick-up truck carrying scrap metal almost lopped off my head. in doing so, I put myself in harms way from the rear and a screamming head and horm from behind got me to bolt upright immediately. I paniced and sprinted to the sidewalk stepping on a broken bottle on the way. I tied off the bleeding cut and limped to the station. As I entered, I saw a line that was 50 people deep in front of the window selling tickets. I stood there three hours before gettting to the window. I told the seller I needed two tickets to K. He promptly stamped and wrote on a pair of tickets; I paid him and left. Apon arriving back to the hotel, I was asked how hard was it to get tickets to K. I responed with, "buying the tickets at the station was OK, but THE DICKAGE FACTOR of getting to the station was high--the dickage factor was through the roof."
by Royal Wulff September 14, 2009
Get the dickage factor mug.an indescribable quality or something; something about a person that you cannot put your finger on; je ne sais quoi
by weave March 18, 2003
Get the X - Factor mug.