I hate turkeys. If you stand in the meat section at the grocery store long enough, you start to get mad at turkeys. There's turkey ham, turkey bologna, turkey pastrami. Some one needs to tell the turkey, 'man, just be yourself.'
I hate dreaming because when you want to sleep, you want to sleep. Dreaming is work. Next thing you know, I have to build a go-cart with my ex-landlord.
I hate sandwiches at New York delis. Too much meat on the sandwich. It's like a cow with a cracker on either side. "Would you like anything else with the pastrami sandwich?" "Yeah, a loaf of bread and some other people!"
I hate arrows. They try to tell me which direction to go. It's like "I ain't going that way, line with two thirds of a triangle on the end!"
I hate flossing, I wish I just had one long curvy tooth. They didn't have to make separations for me.
I hate turkeys. If you go to the grocery store, you start to get mad at turkeys. You see turkey ham, turkey bologna, turkey pastrami. Somebody just needs to tell the turkeys, "Man, just be yourselves!" I already like you, little fella. I used to draw you. If you had a couple of fingers missing, you would draw a really messed-up turkey. That turkey was in an accident!
I'd hate to be a giraffe with a sore throat.
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