Haters gonna hate.
Shorts should be short. It is right there in the name!
I was lonelier than Kunta Kinte at a Merle Haggard concert that night I strolled on into Uncle Limpy’s Hump Palace lookin’ for love. It had been a while. In fact, three hundred and sixty-five had come and went since that midnight run haulin’ hog to Shakey Town on I-10. I had picked up this hitchhiker that was sweatin’ gallons through a pair of Daisy Duke cut-offs and one of those Fruit Of The Loom tank-tops. Well, that night I lost myself To ruby red lips, milky white skin and baby blue eyes. Name was Russell.
Best thing I’ve read all week.
Then you’re in for…maybe not a treat…but something when you listen to the song
Analyst-Therapists of the world unite!
Sun’s out, uh… balls out?
Why the question mark?
I couldn’t find a testicle-related rhyme for “sun” and just gave up 😭.
Sun’s out? Ball out!
People have said that “Queer” is a nebulous term that can’t be defined, but to this day I haven’t met a queer person who doesnt wear cutoff jeans without shaving their legs, so that’s the definition I’m sticking to
have you met queer women?
The statement made could apply to any human.
Bumblebee Tuna!
Better then me, I tried wearing daisy dukes and kept getting laughed at and called an idiot and a moron… For anyone else who runs into this situation, they are supposed to go on your legs
