There is a name for this disease where people are infatuated with objects but I forget what it's called. If you're going to have the disease loving balloons is not bad, I saw a show where a guy was in love with railroad trains.
I'd love to see Iron Man's roadside sobriety test. They'd make him do the touch his index fingers to his nose and he'd accidentally set of his hand lasers.
I can't think of a scenario why this room still exists. Perhaps a 12 year old died and the parents have been too distraught to even go in the room in which case the narrator is acting callously upbeat.
Leave Tripp alone. If Levi Johnston was your father you'd be writing faggot on the wall in your own feces.
I'm a fucking redneck
I live to hang out with the boys, play some hockey, do some fishing
And kill some moose
I like to shoot the shit, do some chilling I guess
You fuck with me and I kick your ass
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