You don't have a brain to think with. You are just an eyeball.
It's wireless. I use the cloud I-Brain.
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They were just recalled for being defective. Gave people delusions of grandeur.
Don't matter, because I win.
Ooh, sorry. People whose last name contains their first name can't win. It's in the rules.
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Neither can people without avatars.
.
Mitt Romney is a cleric of weird god that lets you have several wives at
once. He phoned up wife number 3, because she was good with a shot gun.
"Baby, I need your skillz. Bring your boomstick, and meet me by the
elevator. We are going down to meet wizard Sheen on the ground."
.
And wife number 3 told Mitt "Only if you make me a sammich first."
Suddenly a gust of wind blows, and I end up winning this whole shish kabob.
Actually...I win because of...mmm, donuts.
Actually my breakfast this morning (if you can call it breakfast, it's the last meal I eat before going to bed even though it is in the morning) consisted of cold Olive Garden breadsticks and roasted peanuts from the Texas Roadhouse. All washed down with store brand strawberry Kool-Aid.
I did have donuts today, but alas, no bacon. But I still win.
.
Mitt met Wife 3 at the elevator. She was sexy for Mormon woman -- that is,
she had on red high heel shoes. But everything else about her said Down
on the Farm (if you know what I mean.)
Her muscular right arm held a pretty shiny shotgun. She had a bandoleer
around her shoulder with more shells.
"GalDang woman," said Mitt slipping back into his southern twang he had
tried to have surgically removed in his youth, but in time of stress it
came back, "just how many times are you going to plug him."
"A girl has to be prepared."
.
Well, she doesn't have to be prepared. But she probably should be. Regardless, I win.
I'm fairly certain i'm not gonna win but hey it's worth a try.
And Trying. . . . . . . .
Some people around here are very trying.
And for those keeping score at home, today's breakfast consisted of a triple steakburger (with lettuce, mayo, and onion), fries, onion rings, and more roasted peanuts once again washed down with strawberry "Kool=Aid".
Maybe not the breakfast of champions, but it was darn tasty nonetheless.
You can't handle the breakfast of champions.
Is it the truth? Because I can handle a little truth, but not much.
I Wasn't Irish Naturally.
As requested here goes another try at winning.
And you lost already. Sorry.
The breakfast of champions consists of eggs, bacon, little chocolate doughnuts (we miss you John) and of course a double helping of me winning. Don't choke on it now.
I'll skip the eggs and your win, thanks. I will take the bacon and chocolate doughnuts, though.
Wash it down with shame. I win.
International Watermelon Irrigation Network
won for changing a post content.
I refuse to be beaten by a duck!
I Won't Intentionally Nibble
Introspectively Weird Insane Nutball
Quoram?
*flies into ceiling fan*
First winner this morning; refreshing.
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Don't you know firsts never win.
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