Why is it that every flippin’ time I try to take some frickin’ time off from freakin’ work, I get friggin’ sick? What the frak? It’s like my flickin’ body doesn’t want me to ever fraggin’ enjoy a razzifrazzin’ vacation.
If I only had 6 million mother-filchin’ dollars, I could frappin’ pay to get a healthy new body – they have the frizzin’ technology, for Falk’s sake. Then again, if I had 6 million mother-flappin’ dollars, I probably wouldn’t go to flackin’ work at all, and just take my forkin’ chances with the illness. Maybe without the frockin’ stress, I’d stay florpin’ healthy. Ooh, maybe I can get a froppin’ scientific research grant to test out this mother-fecklin’ hypothesis. Flock, yeah.