You're the problem!
You're the problem! by Namestypicalmeaning January 2, 2021
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You choosing to do what you're doing isn't me being the problem
Hym "You choosing to do what you're doing isn't me being the problem. And if people keep murdering your kids, maybe YOU are all the problem. My kids haven't gotten murdered. So, I must be doing something right. I'm not the problem. Doing push-ups hasn't made you any better than you are. You and the fat slob YouTuber ARE THE SAME THING. You're not better than me. They just aren't doing to you what they are doing to me."
Related Words
You're the problem! • You choosing to do what you're doing isn't me being the problem • you're the man now dog • You're the best • You're the boss • You're the only spraypainter for me, Lucas • You're the beast • you're the best for last • You're the biggest mug out of all of us • You're the cream to my crop
breatharian
breatharian by leena gabor November 8, 2005
Word of the Day on June 3, 2026
A Booger In The Nose Of Progress
"Militarily, that inquest was a booger in the nose of progress."
or
"As far as human rights are concerned, this political infighting is a booger in the nose of progress."
or
"As far as human rights are concerned, this political infighting is a booger in the nose of progress."
A Booger In The Nose Of Progress by Rok'n'rol Wannabe October 19, 2006
Word of the Day on June 2, 2026
fogey
Fogey/fogy /fougi/ sl. (early 18C+, orig. Scot) old-fashioned, stuck-in-the mud.
Person with old fashioned ideas which he is unwilling to change: Come to the disco and stop being such an old fogey!
Person with old fashioned ideas which he is unwilling to change: Come to the disco and stop being such an old fogey!
You think me an old fogeyand an old tory, his thoughtful voice said. I saw three generations since O’Connel’s time. I remember the famine. Do you know that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the union twenty years before O’Connel did or before the prelates of your communion denounced him as a demagogue? You fenians forget some things. (James Joyce, Ulysses. Penguin Books,1992. p. 38)