Jesse: Man, I’m glad they tore down all these trees and put up all these houses. I was getting real sick of all that beautiful country and fresh air.
Brian: Yeah. With any luck, they’ll throw another McDonalds or two on this street.
Jesse: We can only hope.

Carl: So, Dan probably won’t be talking to me for a spell.
Me: What’d you do?
Carl: Well, he passed out—
Me: And you shamed him.
Carl: Kind of.
Me: What’d you do?
Carl: I put a bunch of KY jelly between his butt cheeks, and then, the next morning, I asked him why he had some random guy passed out in his room last night.
Me: No fucking way.
Carl: He spent the better part of today at work wondering if he was gay or not.
Me: Man, you are one sick bastard.
Carl: No, if I was such a sick bastard, then why would I have sent him those flowers from an anonymous admirer today at work? I’m a nice guy.
Me: Remind me not to get on your bad side.

Me: So, did you tell him that it was all a joke?
Carl: Yeah, after I told his girl and all his coworkers about the joke—you know, so they could get in on it and all.
Me: Sick fucker.

Jim: What’s a five letter word for “release?”
Tom: Booze.

Mark: Hey man, what’s your name again?
Me: Very funny, Mark.
Mark: Seriously. I mean, you look familiar, but I forgot your name.
Me: I’ve known you for a year, Mark.
Mark: You sure?
Me: Of course I’m sure. Your name is Mark. You sell life insurance for Mutual of Omaha. Your girlfriend needs to shed about twenty pounds.
Mark: Oh yeah. That rude fucker, Nate.

Jim: What’s a four letter word for “frustrating?”
Tom: Cunt.

Lloyd: Man, I thought you died.
Me: No such luck.
Lloyd: Where you been?
Me: Ain’t gone anywhere.
Lloyd: I see. You sobered up for a little bit.
Me: No. Had a girl and a TV so I didn’t need your bar.
Lloyd: Man, that’s fucked up. Every one of these guys has a girl and a TV. They still come to my bar.
Steve: Lloyd, you know none of us have girlfriends.
Lloyd: None of you? Damn, you all some losers.
Me: Ouch, that’s cold.
Lloyd: Anyway, bring the bitch in here. Let these losers all talk to her, and then you can drink in peace and she’ll think you’re doing something with her.
Me: Man, you should teach a class.

Jim: What’s an eight letter word for “pestering behavior”?
Me: Will someone take that fucking thing away from him? Man, is he annoying.
Jim: Wait a minute. I think that’s it. Annoying. Yeah, it fits.
Tom: Wow. That’s fucked up right there.

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