Friends don't let Jackasses drink and drive.
In the land of bleating sheep and braying jackasses, one brave and honest man is bound to create a scandal.
It was only then I realized I didn't know the name of Elodin's class. I leafed through the ledger until I spotted Elodin's name, then ran my finger back to where the title of the class was listed in fresh dark ink: "Introduction to Not Being a Stupid Jackass." I sighed and penned my name in the single blank space beneath.
Sagebrush is a very fair fuel, but as a vegetable it is a distinguished failure. Nothing can abide the taste of it but the jackass and his illegitimate child the mule.
My proudest moment was when I was in high school, some jackass tried to give me a wedgy. I came prepared, I went commando. It tickled.
What an honor that Stephen Prouty got nominated for best makeup and hairstyling for Jackass Presents Bad Grandpa. Am I as stunned as everyone else we didn’t get the nod for best picture? Well of course, duh, but I won’t let that take away from my happiness for Steve, Tony Gardner, and our whole makeup team. Wahoo!
I was so paranoid that my friends wouldn't like me. I went to a very small school where the consequences of bullying were very real. You couldn't just push some nameless face in the hallway because everybody knew each other's families, so there wasn't the obligatory psychotic jackass that tortured everybody.
Muhammad was a jackass. People who believe in him are stupid. Let us call a spade as spade. These people must be laughed at. They, and their screwball prophet have to be ridiculed not respected. Let them cringe, let them wince, let them agonize. We must demolish this fetish and break the shackles of these wretched people. They must be set free and the only way to do that is to demolish their fetish.
A good writer does not receive anywhere near the number of poison-pen letters that is commonly assumed. Among a hundred jackassesthere are not ten who will admit to being jackasses, and at most one who will put it in writing.
And I will not be beaten by that jackass." "Jackass?" said Foaly, wounded. "My favorite uncle is a jackass.
You look like a Goth factory exploded all over you!" he called as she ran down the hall. "Love you, too, jackass!
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