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| "SHE FUKKING HATES ME! LALALALA!" | |
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| Oh, no! Puddle of Mudd's come to town! Something needs to be done about this. | |
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| "TRUST SHE FUKKING HATES ME!" | |
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| HEY! SHUT THE FUKK UP! YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A DIME STORE VERSION OF NIRVANA! YOUR MUSIC SOUNDS LIKE SHIT THAT KURT MIGHT'VE WROTE IF HE'D HAD FETAL ALCOHOL SYNDROME! | |
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| You're right. I'm going to go back to my dressing room and hang myself with my studded leather belt that makes me look so fukking cool. | |
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| "YOU TRY SO HARD TO PRETEND YOU GOT TALENT, BUT YOU HAVE NONE! GO THE FUKK AWAY!" | |
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