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Pronounced: Cray-bill-light; a sloth-like being, with unkempt patches of fur scattered about the face, forearms, and genitals; resembles a pre-domesticated Yeti, but six feet tall and wears New Balances; origins: the suburban Olney region, the Caspian Sea, or a Three Doors Down Concert. Krehbielites tend to abhor natural sunlight, manual labor, and the teachings of the Torah/Chicken Soup for the Massive Douche bag. Dietary needs: TGIFriday’s Long Island Iced Tea, Esskay franks ala George Foreman, anything that gets unsuspecting sophomore girls (boys?) drunk, and Banana Boat SPF 30. Daily ritual: masturbating, hating self, formulating intricate fables about dating millionaire supermodels (currently on shoot in Milan), digging, crying. Household concerns: routinely defecating on bathroom floor mat, dry-humping throw pillow, disregarding final notice credit card bills, and creating unprecedented amounts of filth—reducing habitat to a disjointed, chaotic entity that is unsuitable for any living thing.
Pissed-off person 1: Who’s that son of a bitch raping my West Highland Terrier?
Pissed-off Person 2: It’s probably one of those Kerhbielites.
Slightly Aroused Bystander: Who’s the piece of ass in the front yard?
Pissed-off Person 2: He’s a filthy Krehbielite. You’ll notice the a-sexual tattoo on the small of his back—clearly a Krehbiel. Is that an ass nipple?
(Now) Highly Aroused Bystander: I’m going to leave my card. Hand it to him when he’s through, would you? Excuse me, I need to borrow something in your tool shed...for ten to fifteen minutes.
by The Good Bishop Hess January 04, 2006
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Aug 10 Word of the Day
Running for exercise and picking up trash you find along the way. It's good for the body, mind, soul, and environment! Started in Sweden but is making its way to the U. S.
It's nice out and the city is filthy. Let's go plogging!
by Another damn hippie. May 09, 2018
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2
Pronounced: Cray-bill-light; a sloth-like being, with unkempt patches of fur scattered about the face, forearms, and genitals; resembles a pre-domesticated Yeti, but six feet tall and wears New Balances; origins: the suburban Olney region, the Caspian Sea, or a Three Doors Down Concert. Krehbielites tend to abhor natural sunlight, manual labor, and the teachings of the Torah/Chicken Soup for the Massive Douche bag. Dietary needs: TGIFriday’s Long Island Iced Tea, Esskay franks ala George Foreman, anything that gets unsuspecting sophomore girls (boys?) drunk, and Banana Boat SPF 30. Daily ritual: masturbating, hating self, formulating intricate fables about dating millionaire supermodels (currently on shoot in Milan), digging, crying. Household concerns: routinely defecating on bathroom floor mat, dry-humping throw pillow, disregarding final notice credit card bills, and creating unprecedented amounts of filth—reducing habitat to a disjointed, chaotic entity that is unsuitable for any living thing
Pissed-off person 1: Who’s that bastard raping my West Highland Terrier?
Pissed-off Person 2: It’s probably one of those Kerhbielites.
Slightly Aroused Bystander: Who’s that piece of ass in the front yard?
Pissed-off Person 2: He’s one of those filthy Krehbielites. You’ll notice the a-sexual tattoo on the small of his back—clearly a Krehbiel. Is that an ass nipple?
(Now) Highly Aroused Bystander: I’m going to leave my card. Just hand it to him when he’s through. I gotta go examine something in your tool shed.
by Herr Bateman June 22, 2005
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