The box says your a fat, insecure pig. You're a ridiculous bitch and I would consider divorcing you if I could hear myself think over the sound of the eggshells breaking under my feet.
Shut your mouth Steve and make some wall-pizza before your life finds a way to get shittier.
How about you quit back-pedaling, Steve, and polish your knuckles with her fucking molars like a normal man. Slap that Y-chromosome across her face and show that piggie who's boss.
Wipe that smirk off before I wipe it off your pale face for you with the back of my fucking hand.
The box says "you have no spine, Steve." Shut your mouth. I'm hung-over, my poop is black and I fucking hate Cheerios now.
GIRL POWR!!! LOLZ!!!
Sorry for being so salty on a sunday morning. Time for church! Praise Jeebus!
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