May 05 2010
Can’t I just walk to Old Navy and return these cargo pants in peace without seeing your fat lazy ass getting molested by a robot in front of Cinnabon?
I don’t need to see you on the brink of an orgasm while you sit there getting a happy ending from a La-Z-Boy in your Everybody Loves Raymond T-shirt. And for the love of God, can you PLEASE put your shoes (Crocs) back on? Your dirty Frito toenails are ruining my appetite for Sbarro.
Is this “massage” a wise investment? Can you really relax while basking in the glow of The Cell Phone Zone? Luckily, you won’t need massage oil because the sweat of every Insane Clown Posse fan who preceded you keeps your little robot chair nice and lubed.
Congratulations, you found a way to make shopping malls even more horrible.
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