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Anyone who uses Irregardless is a dick


bouche
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Fucking eh, I hate that.

Also included would be:

supposebly

intensive purposes

This is hilarious!:

Plethora

People think it means:

A lot of something.

Actually means:

Too much of something, an over-abundance.

It's the difference between:

"Dude, I am jonesing to go snort a plethora of medicinal-grade barbiturates right now."

And ...

"Dude, I just snorted a plethora of medicinal-grade barbiturates, and now there are hundreds of terrifying arachnids crawling out of my penis. They all have human lips."

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This is hilarious!:

Plethora

People think it means:

A lot of something.

Actually means:

Too much of something, an over-abundance.

It's the difference between:

"Dude, I am jonesing to go snort a plethora of medicinal-grade barbiturates right now."

And ...

"Dude, I just snorted a plethora of medicinal-grade barbiturates, and now there are hundreds of terrifying arachnids crawling out of my penis. They all have human lips."

I did not know that.

Thanks for giving this dick a heads-up! ;)

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Turns out you guys are saying everything wrong:

This worthy lymytour, this noble Frere,

He made alwey a maner louryng chiere

Upon the Somonour, but for honestee

No vileyns word as yet to hym spak he.

But atte laste he seyde unto the wyf,

"Dame," quod he, "God yeve yow right good lyf!

Ye han heer touched, also moot I thee,

In scole-matere greet difficultee.

Ye han seyd muche thyng right wel, I seye;

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Sorry, I guess I shouldn't have left y'all hanging. Here's the rest of the gripping tale:

But, dame, heere as we ryde by the weye,

Us nedeth nat to speken but of game,

And lete auctoritees, on Goddes name,

To prechyng and to scole eek of clergye.

But if it lyke to this compaignye,

I wol yow of a somonour telle a game.

Pardee, ye may wel knowe by the name

That of a somonour may no good be sayd;

I praye that noon of you be yvele apayd.

A somonour is a rennere up and doun

With mandementz for fornicacioun,

And is ybet at every townes ende."

Oure Hoost tho spak, "A, sire, ye sholde ye hende

And curteys, as a man of youre estaat;

In compaignye we wol have no debaat.

Telleth youre tale, and lat the somonour be."

"Nay," quod the Somonour, "lat hym seye to me

What so hym list; whan it comth to me lot,

By God, I shal hym quiten every grot.

I shal hym tellen which a greet honour

It is to be a flaterynge lymytour;

And eek of many another manere cryme

Which nedeth nat rehercen at this tyme;

And his office I shal hym telle, ywis."

Oure Hoost answerde, "Pees, namoore of this!"

And after this he seyde unto the Frere,

"Tel forth youre tale, my leeve maister deere."

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