What the FUCK did you DO? What did I do?! You know what you did! I didn't do anything! Oh yeah? No! Not on purpose! GODDAMMIT, YOU SON OF A— Where's Jimmy Fallon?! What?! I don't know! Oh no. Oh shit, run. Oh no. What in the FUCK— I am “the fuck” You know what. I'm gonna sue the everliving shit out of you. For WHAT. We'll see. Fuck. Uh oh. FUCK. What now? What this time? Apparently, Jimmy Fallon is missing. What the fuck

I gotta find that pilot I wrote for— MAYA RUDOLPH FOUND IT. Oh, My God Is it Esha in this scene? I can't remember if it's Esha or the nanny. Did he not fuck the therapist? I mean, that's later. Is it? I guess. Continuity. Whatever. . JIMMY FALLON, YOU PATHETIC, BLASPHEMOUS BASTARD. SAY MY NAME ONE MORE TIME. GO AHEAD. do it. You can't say shit to me. Almost nothing. I was almost asleep. Fuck it up, Jimmy. You know, you could get like, Straight

I've been celibate for too long. You know how I know? Shits getting weird. There's babies everywhere, My heart is literally on fire— All the time— And guess what else? I found out this weird trick— On complete accident. I actually found out that men are like real life good pussy detectors. Like, they have a sensor, or something. You know how I found this out? By complete accident. I promise, it was an accident. I was doing kiegels on the

You want to come to, don't you? I'm not really sure I do… WAKE UP! WAKE UP! I am up, you blind bat! I'm rather more of a goat. I thought it you were a horse! –And to that, I say “Ney” Great . Listen. If you can get all of the Golden Girls and all of the beatles lined up in a row, I'll give you a bucket. What's in the bucket. Nothing, that's the fun of it. hm. Sir Paul McCartney? Uh, I guess. Sir Paul McCartney, you must never die

I thought surely the next presidential election was one or two years out, but the racial tensions which had been rising became even more pronounced, as I realized that November was theboncoming time—and that they hostility between the whites and the blacks had once again been a result as the oncoming war, fueled onward—that the hatred, disgust, and general aggression of the whites had been of course, in the midsts of yet another Trump-fueled political upheaval, and I wondered why and how

No sympathy For the empath, either It smells of either Mescaline, or ether It's just a dream, I mean I don't need referrals to therapy Serenity and peace Is all I'm screaming for The the fourth wall's broken The worlds up in arms I pretend to hold him in my arms, As I nod off, I forgot to block the thought watchers Got my VPN on, but An EMP is what we need To get the NPCs off Fuck then all, then Turn my phone off, tune out Or just doze off I need at lease a dose of Stone, You

There is a place unlike any other That lives in your mind— And in your heart SIR JYRE! MY LIEGE! Where is C'esme't!? I don't know… Don't lie to me! Why not? It's fun. Is banishment fun? Mine, or yours? Where is she!? [a slight gasp/beat] …my dear nephew— —we're not related— —not by blood… Where is C'esme't? [he pauses for a moment, before turning away to pour a drink.] You should sit. I'm fine,

Welcome to the Weekend Show with Mediumjay!Today I help a very good friend change his life around! Linktree.com/cashleaders

Youtube: https://youtu.be/f74QmNwhzlM?si=YkbiHA4Wx7FnQZr5

Now my days are shattered My heart is scattered Around down, Fowl feathers of the night owl Dancing in my head In given nightgowns Right now Put the candle out Put the light on Every night, I'm gone Wandering around In the eye of the camera, My orb Falcon turned to black panther I prance around in a dance robe Like a disaster Put it out there, Just so I can't go back Pass the cake Pass the butter Pass the late night hatred Pass away the day praying For the faithless And

The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… 03. JIMMY FALLON All ya'll are all worth bout a dollar; I am a cyclone, watch me holler I lived my whole life underwater I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon All ya'll are only bout a dollar I work so hard, I guess for nothin I am not worried bout a dollar I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon I guess I'll do it on my

02. WAFFLES. Level one Level up: Go Brooklyn has a surf club (Where am I supposed to surf in Brooklyn— Coney Island? How am I supposed to surf in Coney Island There's a hydroponic needle in my hot dog That's gross (2 chainz style) If you grew up in The projects I'm sorry; You should run for governor Or the Oval Office— I would trust you to protect us -31 I'mma change the words up I want Roscoe Waffles with some syrup— Serve holdup; Guess I'm on the wrong

Track 01. OXYGEN Music VIdeo: The Leveling Up from Hotel Concierge to Superstar Sensation I'mma just like– Take one of those luggage carts and prolly dance with it, Like i used to. That shit is not gonna work. You were like It'll work. You were like mad fat, back then. SO. So it; luggage carts shouldn't spin like that; They don't just move like that. It's just centrifugal force. Watch. Alright, if you say so. Watch. Lol Runaway luggage cart. Fine. That's the video

HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN ZE RULEZ! ZE ONLY RULEZ AH ZHAT ZERE ARE NO RULZ! ZAT IS CORRECT! YOU ARE RIGHT. ZHET IS BECAUSEI EM ALWAYS VRIGHT GASPING FRENCHLY, BUT STILL GERMAN YOUR ACCENT! IT HAS RETURNED. MY ACCENT ALWAYS RETURNS AS I AM STRESSED AND UNDER ZE PREZZUR! YES! ZE PRESSURE IS BUILDING! ZE TENSION IS RISING! ZE TENSION IS ALWAYS RIZING! ZE PLOT THICKENS! ALSO YES ZE PLOT THICKENS! KISS ME! (Without her accent, regular) Don't be gross, dude. We already know we're

I am conflicted, constricted Ostracized for my addictions… ‘A married muse— very nice.” It would be a shame to waste such a beautiful day, but there was work to be done, and things approaching, things moving as they squally did around me, but today with more relax—I had taken a my first day off from the gym in weeks, and was feeling rejuvenated, but ready to hit the pavement —my new workout equipment on its way, as not to say, there were other things I

WHERE ARE MY PANTS? YONCÉ, WHERE'S THAT COFEE I'M COMING, JESUS– JESUS Watch it. Amen. If you drop that watermelon, i'll kill you. Oh NO! Ok. Ok. [pause] Now, run. DON'T DROP THE SOAP WHAT *SOAP* W000000AHHH. THIS IS OUT OF CONTROL. THIS IS OUT OF– GOD I got this. GOD, YOU'RE DRUNK You know, this one was almost right– You got your dopplegangers? UH huh. Alright. Come on. Hm. Wait. Just make sure s/he– Is

‘…is that a threat?' ‘Hm…' If it was, it was at least a good one— I was scared, at first, upon seeing what I had thought to be perhaps a package robbery—but was actually just a slit through the package—a clean slice, more specifically, through the bubble wrapped [Redacted] package, however, its contents still inside; The package had been left underneath another—which didn't belong to me, and though I had been cornered by security more than once

Open the bottle up, wont you Open the models up, you don't But you're supposed to Don't go with the Hope, You're just a dope fiend Role model, supposed to cope But you're supposed to know You don't fit the mold, you know Life is a joke you know The show is a closer To open up, Posters, You're roasted, though You open the bottle up I'll open my heart A ship sunk in the bathtub You know what? You're drunk Pushing the envelope Post office closed, You don't show But you're Golden

FARRO! Good sire! My liege! Come quickly, We've not much to tell you; But even less time,, to do so. …why? Because! Here they come! It's lost– Now, it's gone Now, you run. Don't run off On your mark (marker) Get set I'm gonna need a clapboard for this. What brought you up It was under the table What woke you up? It was aprt of a song or something– The line was Notch in your bedpost Line in a song Notch in a bedpost Line in a song Red

The no nonsense was Esha, but in actuality, it was something like a standoff at the tipping point, and I had decided that rather than to continue looking for jobs I didn't want, I had to make myself into a job—or better yet a product, and however long it would take to sort out the documents, I would stoop start, dividing my time between building my porfolio and repertoire, and organizing the documents, the latest of which were what I had so dauntingly called The Allegories, publishing as such