I think I am going to start talking out loud to myself like people in soap operas do. In line at the post office I will say, “I hope I have not made a mistake putting all this tape on the box. I think I will have a salad for lunch. I wonder if Crescent will find out about me sleeping with Thorn on Christal’s couch where she murdered Fragile.”
Great Idea #3756
September 22nd, 2004 | Dream Life
13 comments ↓
I’m now very curious as to what your first 3,755 great ideas were. You need to start publishing books of your great ideas. You are destined to singlehandedly save humanity.
*quickly posts and nonchalantly walks out of my room and mutters something within earshot of my roommate, about whether “nonchalantly” and “earshot” are being properly used in this post.
You’re just plain swell, B.
BWAHAHAHAHA…Crescent…Fragile…HAHAHAHAHA!!!@#@!
Damn, what’s up with all my comments appearing twice recently? I will blame it on this hideously outmoded browser I am forced to use at work.
You didn’t know that you already do this? This is how I stay one step ahead.
He doesn’t love you. He loves me. He was just settling for you. The way you settle for a glass of grapefruit juice when the diner is out of orange. Only the waitress has just given him free refills on his glass of me. And you’re no longer bottomless because the special ended at ten-thirty. You tramp.
>SLAP
the only way you can pull that off is to have that cheesy background music, you know, it’s like one (suspended) chord played on a yamaha dx-7 keyboard,
the music never really goes anywhere, it just sort of lingers in your sub conscious making everything you say more dramatic, and fills… those… dramatic pauses
Brittney! I’ve swum the Indian Ocean to escape the invisible satan cult that kept you from my arms. No! No, don’t say anything. I know… I know you love another. And I know he loves another too. And I’ve heard all about that weird breakfast thing it’s really strange but I’m cool with it whatever. But when I was crossing that ocean and dodging the canoes full of Navajo all I could think about was your frilly see-through bottom, and it was that bottom that kept me going through my coma, and my face transplant that made me look like some other guy, and my amnesia, and then my other face transplant that put me back to normal, and then that whole thing with the aliens we’re never supposed to talk about again, and then finding out that my UPS guy was a spy.. a female spy… but through all that IT WAS YOU! YOU! YOU! CAN’T YOU UNDERSTAND???
OH FUCK LOOK WHAT THESE MOTHERFUCKING BUBBLES DO TO YOUR TUB!
THEY FUCK THAT DIRT IN THE ASS AND MAKE IT SUCK YOUR BEST FRIENDS DICK FOR CASH THAT THEY GIVE RIGHT BACK TO YOU!
THAT’S LOYALTY, BABY!
YOU CAN’T GET A CLEANER LIKE THIS NOWHERE ELSE!
WE MADE NAPALM!
NAPALM!
WHO THE FUCK ELSE MADE NAPALM? TIDE?
SHIT.
IF THE FUCKING FDA WOULD GET OFF OUR TITS THIS WOULD BE ALL UP ON THE LAXATIVE SHELF TOO
GODDAMN!
BUY OUR SHIT! FOAMY!
You do not look like that chich from Roseanne.
You do kind of resemble Bri-chan, though. A bit?
http://www.deviantart.com/view/2610783/
Chick i meant! Sorry.
What’s going on?
This thread is awesome. Good job, whoever.
Today at noon, on Action Twelve: There’s one school that caught on fire and all the students are dead. Was your child one of them? Find out which school it was, and what the new fun summer colors are going to be, up next, on Action Twelve: The Nuclear Submarine of News.
Leave a Comment