You didn't understand? Allow me to clarifry:
Youse of the Vattanac Bank of Cambloatia wish to has speaks with moi over a mad hatter that is for youse mostly uterus...for moi, not so munch. Yes, it is.
Youse of the parody of the first phart hate it there in Phnom Penh...it sound so much like Sean Penn, and he is real asshat. We of moi can sort of kind of standunder that, iffen you mooo what I milk.
BUT...they transferring youse to Burntimore branch. The one Al Sharpton's thugs already llamaed...looted...whatever. It a pile of bash and ricks. Ash and bricks. WTF, we not talk ebonics, homely.
Could youse writ a ladder on our bequarter, asking them NOT to send us to Burntimore? To pave your boner findings to them, you'll has to attack a cowpie of your eyedee for veriflagration porpoises, so they knows you is level.
Youse antpissitape mine squirrelly respond soonest.
Youse has the horror to be,
Mr. Sochai Dithsh*t
Vattanac Bank Cambloatia
What is wrong with you?
Nothing that hot sex with Taylor Swift couldn't cure. Why do you ask? You can arrange for that?
Mr. Dithsh*t decided then and there that I wasn't worth the game.
So likely would Taylor Swift, but I already knowd she had better taste than that ;-)