I think… no, I am positive… that you are the most unattractive man I have ever met in my entire life. You know, in the short time we’ve been together, you have demonstrated every loathsome characteristic of the male personality and even discovered a few new ones. You are physically repulsive, intellectually retarded, you’re morally reprehensible, vulgar, insensitive, selfish, stupid, you have no taste, a lousy sense of humor and you smell. You’re not even interesting enough to make me sick, The Witches of Eastwick.
I’m not a smartass… I am a skilled trained professional in pointing out the obvious and I speak fluent sarcasm.
No, I don’t need anger management, you need to stop pissing me off.
I am not weird, I just fall outside your exceptionally narrow view of the world.
I don’t have an attitude problem; you have a perception problem.
You are a difficult man to forget, but well worth the effort.
As an outsider, what is your perspective on intelligence/your view of the human race?
Me Sarcastic? … Never.
I have standards; step up or step out, Steve Maraboli.
I would like to confirm that I do not care.
I’m actually not funny, I’m just mean and people think I’m joking.
OK. I’m here. What are your other two wishes?
Sorry for the mean, awful, but extremely accurate things I said.
I’m a happy-go-lucky ray of fucking sunshine.
I don’t have the energy to pretend to like you today.
I’d agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong.
Piss me off again and I’ll rip you a new asshole and then fuck it. And that’s just the foreplay, Larissa Ione, Eternal Rider.
If only closed minds came with closed mouths.
I wish more people were fluent in silence.
I need what only you can provide: your absence.
You are an experiment in Artificial Stupidity. All foam, no beer. Your intellect is only rivaled by garden tools.
Why don’t you check eBay and see if they have a life for sale?
You need google in your brain, anti-virus in your heart, and Photoshop on your face.
I don’t worry about terrorism. I was married for two years, Sam Kinison.
Shock me. Say something intelligent.
Zombies eat brains. You’re safe.
No, I’m not insulting you. I’m describing you.
I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain this to you.
You are an unnecessary movie sequel.
You’re impossible to underestimate.
You clearly have not been burdened by an overabundance of education.
I envy people who haven’t met you.
You will be utterly forgotten. You will have a sparsely attended funeral.
Some people make things happen. Some people watch things happen. And then there are those who wonder, ‘What the hell just happened? ‘Carroll Bryant
You’re like a lighthouse in the middle of a desert: bright, but not a lot of use.
You have the charisma of a sock.
Remember when I asked for your opinion? Me neither.
Do I get bonus points if I care?
You act like I actually value what you have to say.
You’re so dense, light bends around you.
The problem isn’t that obesity runs in your family. The problem is no one runs in your family.
To call you excrement would be an insult to the product of my bowels.
You remind me of a migraine. You, my friend, should have been swallowed.
I want you to know that someone cares. Not me, but someone.
You’re living proof of reincarnation. No one could possibly get so stupid in just one lifetime.
Americans have trouble facing the truth. So they invent a kind of soft language to protect themselves from it. […] At some stage during my life toilet paper became bathroom tissue. Sneakers became running shoes. False teeth became dental appliances. Medicine became medication. Information became directory assistance. The dump became the landfill. Car crashes became automobile accidents. Partly cloudy became partly sunny. Motels became motor lodges. House trailers became mobile homes. Used cars became previously owned transportation. Room service became guest room dining. Constipation became occasional irregularity. […] The CIA doesn’t kill anybody anymore. They neutralize people. Or they depopulate the area. The government doesn’t lie. It engages in misinformation, George Carlin
I used to think I was poor. Then they told me I wasn’t poor, I was needy. Then they told me it was self-defeating to think of myself as needy, I was deprived. Then they told me underprivileged was overused, I was disadvantaged. I still don’t have a dime, but I have a great vocabulary, Jules Feiffer
A euphemism is a generally innocuous word or expression used instead of one that may be found offensive, vulgar, sad, unpleasant or shocking. Some euphemisms are not funny at all: “My dad passed away when I was twelve”, “Poor people are collateral damage, disposable entities, pawns in a power chess game”, etc. However, I find some of them very amusing:
I am not lazy, I am physically conservative, I just rest before I get tired, I just enjoy doing nothing, I am on energy saving mode, I am just easily tired, I am overflowing with potential energy. I’m just depleted motivated to reduce stress and do nothing, just waiting for inspiration to hit me. Lazy is such an ugly word, I prefer the term selective participation. I always help my wife out with housework such as washing the dishes and doing the laundry. She washes them, and I let them dry.
I wonder, we lazy people go to heaven… or do they send someone to pick us up?
I am not clumsy, the floor just hates me, the tables and chairs are bullies, and the walls get in my way.
She is not ugly, she is one of a kind, beautifully challenged, facially compromised, sexually handicapped, an aesthetically freelancer, she has unconventional looks.
You’re not ugly, you’re under construction ― just facially challenged! You look like a bulldog chewing a wasp. Your beauty is different, it is buried alive very deep inside. You have a severe appearance deficit. I am not ugly, I just reduce my graphics to enhance performance.
I am not ugly, I just have an exotic beauty, a wild beauty in disguise, a deeply hidden inner beauty. Maybe, just maybe, I am serioulsy aesthetically challenged.
I am not arrogant, I just have an inflated self-esteem.
I am not messy, I am organizationally challenged. -Wow, Your bedroom looks like you are losing a game of Jumanji! -My room isn’t messy, I just have everything on display.
― You’re the depressed guy, right? ― How dare you! The term is “festively challenged.”
Someone asked me, if I were stranded on a desert island what book would I bring… ‘How to Build a Boat,’ Steven Wright.
Once someone told me, Wow! You are such a prolific writer; you are so wise! That’s really difficult. -Not at all, I answered her back. The difficult part is that someone reads your stuff, Anawim, M.