Fattest Shit
When you have literaly been needing to shit and it comes out so fast and the peice of shit/turd is so big.
Fattest Shit by Anonymous439227 December 19, 2022
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The fattest, most bloated piece of shit anyone has ever seen
Hym "Seriously. The fattest, most bloated piece of shit anyone has ever seen. It isn't even the fat, though, is the crazy part. It's the bloatedness. You look inflatable. If you asked any women... Who she would rather be locked in a room with for 7 days... Showed her a picture of both of us... You could tell her WHO I AM... Full context... And she would STILL choose me over you. You look like you can feel your skeleton floating around in your... I mean- You can't even call it a body. It just IS fat. I could work out. I could get in shape. But no matter what I did, I could never get that distribution of fat on my body. That's it. That's the reason."
The fattest, most bloated piece of shit anyone has ever seen by Hym Iam January 16, 2024
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)