When your gap-toothed friend punches a cowgirl in the ovaries to break the eggs, inserts the necessary ingredients for a bacon omelette, folds her over, and let's it simmer for 90 seconds on high.
Torrey- "how was your date last night"
Lucas- "It was pretty good, I gave her a Montana Hamlet. She loved it, other than the undercooked bacon"
Lucas- "It was pretty good, I gave her a Montana Hamlet. She loved it, other than the undercooked bacon"
by Ginger beard November 29, 2013
Get the Montana Hamletmug. Hamlet, incorporated on February 9, 1897, has always been a railroad town with five spurs radiating from the town to Richmond, Wilmington
Hamlet Railroad Radio: I want everyone to know that Hamlet maybe another small town with nothing going on, but the rail traffic is large and in charge!
by Hercolena Oliver May 29, 2010
Get the Hamlet Railroadmug. Basic white girl. Loves Jesus but also loves sexy time. Durf queen. Will probably play you. Thinks the sun and moon are the same thing. Sugar boobs. Has a hickey somewhere on her body at all times. Looking for a husband but can’t stop hoeing around. Gets offended when someone talks about her tits but she loves to show them off.
by chaws69tiller69 July 11, 2019
Get the grace hamletmug. by kwevihjoerbvoier November 20, 2020
Get the Hamletmug. a tall brown skin big booty girl who usually doesn't like to be the topic of discussion. she has many friends but never lets anyone get too close. her nonchalant ways attract many boys and she can be very indecisive. she is funny and outgoing but also very shy. her best friend is usually the opposite of her but their differences are what keep them around each other!
dang girl! your name must be December Hamlet
have y'all seen the new girl? she's such a December Hamlet
have y'all seen the new girl? she's such a December Hamlet
by Kuwalabear97 January 22, 2014
Get the december hamletmug. William Shakespeare: Hamlet.
QUOTE:
To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.
QUOTE:
To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.
by John Geometry TM October 6, 2025
Get the William Shakespeare: Hamlet.mug. “My dawg, I made you a hamlet this morning!”
“Oh shoot, it’s not poisoned or gonna make me lose my sanity right?”
“Haha, nah. It’s just got some straight up deloish ham in it.”
“Ah tight, thanks dawg!”
“Oh shoot, it’s not poisoned or gonna make me lose my sanity right?”
“Haha, nah. It’s just got some straight up deloish ham in it.”
“Ah tight, thanks dawg!”
by Tru Son of Cronus July 3, 2019
Get the Hamletmug.