I don’t know about the rest of you Gauchos out there, but I am goddamn sick of the Hamburglar. I mean seriously, if I’m eating at McDonald’s, I’m probably already not too happy. And then, all of a sudden, this redheaded menace swoops out of nowhere and steals my Big Mac. I mean, WTF, man? Buy your own freakin’ hamburger.
Tomorrow’s forecast: The Hamburglar is caught, thanks to the help of some French-frywitnesses.
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“dusty rusty crusty musty ass california hills”
“frowning in plaid (haunted radios, bird bones + anthropomorphized wind)”
“warming my hands on bridges i’ve burnt”
“songs that make me see god”
“My Playlist #236”
“classy wine moment and intellectual conversation”
“90s heroin chic model off duty”
“tweet tweet bird emoji map emoji”
“not my circus, not my monkeys”
“a grave is probably cheaper than an apartment”
“ATE THESE BITCHES LEFT NO CRUMBS / DID IT IN DESIGNER PUMPS”
A Drought in humor.
Weatherhuman, where do you get off insulting the good nature of the Hamburglar. He has kids to support and Hamburger helper only has one hand to give. You’re humor is dry and dated… You suck. But I digress, no I don’t… you suck. My soul leaves and wants to jump into the Hamburglar and seed your weatherness till you piss yourself. It’s going to rain the tears of the Weatherhuman. Once again this typhoon of suck is a warm front of crap. You should be ashamed.