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"Internet porn?" she screamed indignantly,

  • "Internet porn?" she screamed indignantly, acting as if it wasn't a part of every male teen's life. "That's trash, and I don't want to see any more of it in my house!"

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  • "Well, uh, I think you're trash - " Carl said, " - so out you go." And Carl threw Mary-Josephanne out of the window, just like that. "Now, it's time to..."

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  • hit the strip club!" he whooped, as we stared in horror while Mary-Josephanne plummeted 60 stories to a grisly but mercifully quick death. "I don't think so, you bastard!" screamed

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  • the burgeoning hero inside me -- but I knew I was just a coward. Content to avoid conflict at all costs, I poised myself for a chance to somehow escape.

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  • all of this royal wedding madness. Nico, Placenta, Kate, whatever she was calling herself these days was making a huge mistake. I tried to reason with her, tried to tell her she

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  • would never forgive herself if she didn't pull a fast one on the prince and totally turn him down at the altar. Man, wouldn't that just be hilarious? I lol'd

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  • into my blackberry that I got an index finger cramp. The prince had courted me before, but that's when he had beer goggles, now that he was sober I wonder

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  • if he would realize how exactly overweight I was. I had to find some way to hide my girth before it was too late. One shopping trip later I had at my disposal

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  • a mound of clothing I could use to replicate Santa's suit, play him in a lost-on-a-snowy-mountain-peak-for-a-year scene and still be warm. The yards of material necessary to clothe

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  • the elves and Mrs. Claus' fat ass were nowhere to be found, however. We were pondering our situation when Bear Grylls walked by drinking a jar of his own urine.

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