“… and can you please change the tv to the cartoon network. I think it’s 43.”
“Is that channel Time Warner or Direct TV?”
“I don’t know, you just press the button till it goes to 43.”
“Thanks for the refresher. I’ll see what I can do.”
I wish a really strong woman would come in here right now and beat that dingbat up on my behalf.
Seventh response for a Google image search: “Boiling with rage.”
“… there’s condiments and napkins in the bag.”
“… uhhhh yeeeeaaah… I didn’t hear you mention mustard. I asked for mustard, is it in there?”
I wish my hands were cobras.
This old creep is eyeballing me. He was a cunt when he ordered and tipped me two cents. I hope he gets raped by his children and dies of their aids.
If I have to explain the price difference in corn dogs (2.79/3.99) to one more half witted assholeface I’m… I’m just… I’m just gunna shit. I’m gunna shit rage and it will fly me out of here like a rocket of terror ruining the lives of everyone who happens to be in my ass missile’s path of misery.
I made a dumb cartoon a few years ago… goddamn it.
I just pinched my nostrils together to scratch an itch and started crying because of a really hard booger I accidentally pressed against my brain.
THEY LET ME HANDLE FOOD! I’LL SEE YOU IN HELL EVERYBODY!
Goddamn. Yauch. That shit hurts.
I like my beats harder than three day old shit.
Is this gluten free diet thing just a poorly masked excuse for assholes to be assholes to the people who handle their asshole food?
You ever meet a kid you want to kick so hard it makes their mom give birth to your shoe?
Micky will put holes in dirty jerks. For reals.
(via comicbooks)
Yup. That about sums it up.
(via juliasegal)