What the fuck do you mean you can’t blend a pastrami on rye for Ozzy? You sit the fuck down, get out your fucking blender, and make him his damn sandwich! NOW!!!
Not in picture: Ozzy in an adult diaper.
“THAT’S ALL BULLOCKS! Piss off, you wanker!”
bollocks, not bullocks, my friend. She wrestles bullocks because it arouses her sexually, and pulls off bollocks and throws them back in your face when she wants to make a point.
“You call that lean pastrami? There’s more fat on that sandwich than they sucked out of my left ass cheek.”
“That’ll do for the sacrifice! Security! Have this bat’s head pre-chewed for my husband!”
She’s yelling at everyone for all those “Kelly is fat” jokes two pictures back.
Guess who eats together at the Carnegie Deli….Sharon Osborne and Arthur Fonzerelli
They’re right Sharon. No one can understand a god damn thing your husband says.
“Call me Ms. Bachman one more fucking time, bitch!”
She has nice teef.
“Bangers, I said!!! No fucking sausages!!!”
In the spirit of the holidays, I’m guessing she sees Bowzer from sha na na and Arthur Fonzerelli.
“If you don’t back off, I swear I’ll wipe this booger on you.”
Sit down and shut up you cunt!
I said ‘Put my husbands picture back on the wall, you cunt!’
“How dare you insinuate that I’m only famous because I let my formerly talented husband make a drooling fool of himself on a reality….uh, you know what? Let’s agree to disagree on that one.”
Ozzy must be trying to get of his highchair again.
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