(part of a continuing series)
This entry was posted on Monday, June 11th, 2007 at 8:09 am and is filed under The Horror. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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Perhaps you accidentally left out the $3/gal. sign. That’s how Mr. Gas Station Attendant got that green uniform: it’s made out of money.
I’ll gladly look at the Weebles at BP for $0.59 44-oz fountain beverages. Take that, McDonalds and your 32-oz “beverage” consisting of 22-oz of ice and 10-oz of beverage for $1.69.
(I can’t afford $1.50 12-oz Izze’s at Whole Foods everyday).
I hear you on the fine BP cuisine–I practically live on the numerous selections from the deli case, and still wonder whatever happened to the “Durham Sandwich Company,” late of Roxboro Street and purveyor of the finest turkey loaf sandwiches slapped between spongy white bread.
I think it’s our rolly-polly janitor’s Hitler mustache, combined with the 1,000 yard stare of the Leatherface family, that starts to creep me the hell out.
Perhaps these things terrify you because you are ginormous pussy?
You don’t know the half of it.
WTF is up with the word ‘ginormous’? It’s getting really obnoxious.
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