Don't Drag Me Into Your Pudding Bowl

Jenny. Hey Jenny! Over here.
You flicked the wrong dingleberry when you brought my name into your little "pass the gas" blame game. Huge time. HugetimeUSA6000.
Remember when you got the stinks real bad after chili crispito night at the dining hall sophomore year, and you took an entire box of DiGel so that your new boyfriend wouldn't think you had just eaten a solid kilogram of fried ground beef wrapped in baked newsprint and jack cheese, but instead it just consolidated all your farts into one huge lobe that oozed out with a continuous sound like Bea Arthur trying to sustain a high A flat for 4 minutes? Remember that?
Don't even come NEAR me, I just had 48 oz. of coffee with heavy cream, and I'm "saving all my love" for YOU. You're dead.
Mike