Hydrogen: Urge to regurge, you say?
Trillaphon: The nag to gag?
Hydrogen: Yeah, you know, the hunger to chunder. The need to heave, the impetus to emesis.
Trillaphon: The gitup to spit up, the compulsion to do some expulsion, the kick to sick, the--
Hydrogen: OK, that's enough, we'll never top urge to 'gurge and you know it.
Trillaphon: It's just that it's going to take the world by storm and I want us to get in on some of that sick, nauselicious 'gurge urgin gag swag merch dirt.
Hydrogen: Moving on, I find myself wondering what Sean Astin lettered in here, exactly, aside from oddly poetic descriptions of human bodily functions.
Trillaphon: Something something taters precious.
Trillaphon: Seriously though, he looks like he's about to star in an all-doo wop Broadway revival of The Breakfast Club.
Hydrogen: Is it an alternate version of the Breakfast Club starring nothing but Lord of the Rings characters as teenagers? Because I'd watch that. Wise-cracking teenage Gandalf and his Fellowship of the Wedgie, stuck in Saturday detention by old man Sauron.
Trillaphon: And fried rats? Seriously? How could something like this happen under the watchful gaze of Comrade Colonel Lenin von Sanderstein?
Hydrogen: Don't know, don't wanna know.
Trillaphon: "Yeah, uhh, lemme get the #5 no lettuce, a #3 extra large with the coleslaw, and a 6-piece bucket of SATANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN"
We use the hands to shred PHONE BILL. We know not where PHONE BILL originated, nor do we know what it means. These are matters of some philosophical debate. Some say the entire subject is out of our hands.
Our Madre app will commodifying momming and connect Madres with our users.
Candles scented like Destiny planets - increases KDR by 26%!
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