Get Inside You
To want to fuck your girl/guy or to want to be fucked. Can be used instead of "I want you to fuck me."
Get Inside You by Christina May 13, 2005
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You don't hafta BREAK DA WALL DOWN to get inside!
What you eye-twinklingly tell one or more workmen who are hammering/prying away siding and/or timbers on a home or business in preparation to making repairs/renovations.
Anytime I come upon contractors doing outside carpentry work at a home or place of business along da main street downtown, I love jokingly saying to them, "You know, guys --- there IS da FRONT DOOR, if you wanna get in so badly! You could just open da door and walk through; you don't hafta BREAK DA WALL DOWN to get inside!" I usually get an equally-smart-alecky reply from them, as well, such as, "Oh, we know that, but we wanna be more subtle about our entry!", or "Yeah, we could, but this way is more fun!"
You don't hafta BREAK DA WALL DOWN to get inside! by QuacksO October 31, 2023
Related Words
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)