Lamesters Archive

Bang!

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Bang

Lamester Review:

As I sit on the edge of this glorious canyon with coffee in hand, I can’t help but think back to the early days of our wonderful country.  America.  The land of the free. The home of the brave.  I can only hope that the ghosts of our forefathers are in a public library somewhere today, searching through Facebook, only to stumble upon this snapshot of such a familiar scene:  An American flag, a field where perhaps a war was once fought, and a sturdy, reliable cannon … being air-fucked by a drunk sorority girl.

Smokin’ Dopes

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dopes

“Hey bitch! This weekend rocked!  I got smashed at Jimmy’s house and let’s just say the backdoor was unlocked ;) LOL!”

Ah shit, I just sent that text to my mom.

Happy Birthday?

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happy-birthday-

Oh Felicia you are definitely one for sweet birthday greetings.  I assume your message was too long to be written with icing on a cake and that’s why you posted it online instead.  Every year my grandmother sends me a birthday card and I gotta tell you, the message is NEVER as good as this!  I can only imagine what wonderful things you will have to say to your own grandchildren some day.

Also, I wish you had mentioned shooting Gandhi into outer space a while ago when he was still alive … because ironically, it’s a little known secret that Gandhi did, in fact, once wish that he could be shot into space before blowing out his 76th birthday candles.

The Internet Always Remenerbers

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the-internet-always-remembers

As history tells us, drinking copious amounts of alcohol plus transferring information from one to another never turns out well…most of the time. The same holds true for status updates. Hannah, cut your losses and fill the void with a pepperoni pizza.

Mood Swingin’

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bipolar1

Hey Ahmed, if the unfortunate happens and Elaine DOES become a Period Ghost, can I recommend a romantic tune?  It’s perfect for those nights when you cuddle up with that special ghost after a nice, hot blood shower.

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Boring As Heel

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Boring As Heel

Everyone in my family loves Aunt Cloe. However, I don’t. She lives up north just a few hours away from New York city and you can pretty much count on her calling the family at least three times a week. She’ll talk about the time her cat Belgian brought in a field mouse … or recap the “delightful” conversation she had with the sacker at her local grocery store. The point I’m trying to make here is that she talks. A LOT. Thankfully, we have the option of hanging up the phone by “accident” when her verbal diarhea begins. Unfortunately, we all lack this beautiful gift when it comes to Facebook. Joan, do you think anyone wants to read some pointless tirade that you and your underage friends have regarding shoes? NO! Do we honestly care if your hormone-raging body can or can’t fall into step with this year’s latest fashion trends? NO!  So please save your girl talk for this evening’s nail painting session and do us the favor of not wasting our own precious time. Thank you.

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