Don ask me.
Isn’t that like just being a teenager with your own stereo system?
If you have to ask, you don’t want to know.
Yeah, that’s the one! I wanna be bit by one of the radioactive ones of those!
I want to be bitten by a radioactive murder wasp.
Miles: “So anyway, what’s up with no cartoons on Sundays, anyhow!?”
Spud as a personal coach: “I’m here to help you get your poo together.”
Hmm, if dogs went into space, where would they go for walkies?
Try googling “14 Horrifying Fried Foods at State Fairs”.
Can’t get any slower than that…
Mom: “Ok Spud. Your tip – Don’t spray all the whipped cream up your nose, this time.”
Isn’t that like just being a teenager with your own stereo system?