Carl Edwards, dreaming of a brighter day. Caption this one, friends, and let us in on the mysteries within his head.
After the jump, Matt Kenseth can't believe what he sees on Greg Biffle.
swift:
"For the last time, Greg, not ordering your 2009 Nascar Pets calendar doesn't give you the right to call me an animal hater."
razz:
The Biff endures a severe tongue lashing after stating that he could help out if there was ever a breast pump malfunction at Matt's house.
ziggalajiggy, one of many who took the "drill sergeant" route:
Kenseth: How tall are you, private?
Biffle: Five foot nine, sir.
Kenset: Five foot nine, I didn't know they stacked **** that high!
Shannon P:
In an effort to come across as more aggressive, Kenseth finally musters the courage to bully the kid with braces.
Doug C:
"Stop it! You will listen to me when I'm talking to you! I am sssooooo sick and tired of how you always hog the remote and then hide it when I'm not around. I'm tired of that fungus growing in the bathroom and how you're always messing with that picture of my girlfriend. You eat all the cheeze-its and don't throw the box away for crying out loud! I AM SO GONE!"
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