Time to take out the trash.
You two fucking bitches have been talking trash for too long. When I was injured I was too much of a gentleman to say anything. But now I'm feeling strong and it's time to shut you up. Tomorrow in class I'm going to show you second-rate clowns that superior intellect and technique can defeat drugged-up intensity, gymnast-like flexibility, and absence of neck.
Time to take out the trash.
Hey Vanbjj, how's your knee? Are you a blue belt yet? I'm putting the smart money on flexo-Bjorn to triangle choke your dumb ass.
wombat, I heard that Vanbjj has been training with Todd Bertuzzi!! You had better keep you money in your pants!
Of course I'm a blue belt. Could there be any doubt? But don't bet all your money on your Aryan buddy, Bjorn. That old keyboard warrior's quivering and quaking under a desk somewhere at UBC hoping to death I don't get my hands on him. And if you can find the sand to come back out west, I've got some for you too.
Crazy Tony - haven't you heard? Wombass can't keep anything in his pants.
I choose not to keep things in my pants. Pens, bees etc ... it's a safety issue.
Well, on behalf of everyone who's unfortunate enough to have to roll with you, I'd like to ask you to reconsider that.
Sorry, no can do. It's become my trademark gimmick. At least once, during every match, I will open up my pants and unleash random chaos and fury. Sometimes it's a swarm of locusts, sometimes it's a plague of toads, sometimes it's delicious candy ... you never know. The pants are the x-factor. I've often said (to those wise enough to listen) that if I ever do a vale tudo fight (unlikely) that I'll have a zip-lock bag of giant hissing cockroaches in my pants so if I start to lose (also unlikely), I'll simply reach into my pants and open the bag, and the cockroaches will swarm out all over me and my opponent (likely in my guard). I will also wet myself and induce vomiting. This will cause just the distraction I need to seize victory from the nasty, drooling orifice of defeat.
Wombat = very funny
Wombat - I know you're a Winnipegger now, but don't follow Bjorn's and Johnny Yim's example. Try to just say no to the drugs once in awhile. It'll do you a world of good.
Meathead - you wash that fucking gi, boy. Seriously, I nearly puked yesterday. But don't you worry, I'm going to take you to the cleaners tomorrow. And the same goes for your pathetic partner in crime, Bjorn.
And fucking Robie too!!!!!
Sean's gi smells like Roses when compared to my "Kimono of Pestilence", anything smell that makes Benito quit is baaaaaaad !
Benito comes from the street so you know it's gotta be downright nasty to make him say uncle. And I'm sorry to have to break it to you, Dendawg. But that kimono of pestilence is a bed of roses compared to those rat-infested fermenting kneepads of yours.
Don't blame the messenger. I'm just keeping it real.