if someday we get to meet again in a car crash, plane wreck or terrorist attack
If the avoidance of hot, painful and rotten flatulence is a goal of yours this holiday season, I strongly encourage you not to have stewed red cabbage and pork chops for supper, tasty though they may be.
I even wrote a haiku to help convince you, since I know you take poetry seriously:
in a hot shower
letting a cabbage fart rip
might make you nauseous
And with that, I’m off to D.C. for a couple of days.
Miss me like you mean it.
Miss you like I mean it. Ugggghhhhh.
I liked you better when you were fantasizing about inflatable Santa dolls.
Cabbageass is a bitch, but it is fun sometimes when you're watching football with friends.
Cabbage in the morn'.
Cabbage in the evening.
Shittin' suppertime.
Call it a Guy-ku
Silent but deadly
an odor lingers, expands
through the air. Don't breathe.
Hey, I saw an inflatable snow globe this morning and thought about you. Fag.
Have a good Christmas, and never fart around me you stinky bastard.
Don't eat that stuff. Merry baby Jesus day.
I demand a real baby jesus post.
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