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I've had a cookie tell me to "watch out for the bus."

I had just finished watched Final Destination.

I hate fortune cookies.

At 3/8/06 04:30 PM, The_Happy_Cheese_Guy wrote: fat kids are invincible

You can't hurt The Blob.

KEYTAR.

But I see that commercial all the time.

It loses it's novelty, trust me.

Go penis, go penis, go go go penis.

It doesn't matter what people send through their cell phones, which is where I'm going to assume these messages are coming from. As long as people are willing to pay the 75 cents to FUSE to get that shit put on the air, no one is going to stop them.

To an extent of course.

There are still some original ideas being put forth, but it's anyone's guess as to what's happening to them.

Are they being refused because in today's "sue-happy" society, it will be labeled as plagirism(sp?)?

Is it just not what people want to see?

Not enough room for product placement?

I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for Hollywood to shape up. Like a kid playing with fire, the film industry is in for a major wake-up call. Hopefully they'll listen.

At 3/8/06 04:00 PM, electricfreak wrote: If you actually did type that how long did it take?

Heck yes I typed it.
Maybe fifteen minutes.

...we rocked out so hard we killed that guy?
...we rocked out so little, we almost died?
...we slapped that melon for a nickel?
...I equipped that troll mace for +5 against undead?
...we took those dirty pictures of each other?
...we didn't mail the check so they broke our knees?
...you watched me stick a radon rod in my ulna?
...I saw a bigfoot and you were like "nuh-uh."
...we struck a skip whore in the boobnet dribble guitar juice house?
...we burned down Chicago?
...I shot Lennon?
...you slashed up all those pillows, then blamed me?
...I slashed up all that your face, and blamed you?
...I ironed my wang flat, and we called it "beavertail" for a week?
...we hit chicks with our beavertails?
...we covered our bodies in pen ink, then dried out on the couch?
...we got heart tattoos on our hearts?
...we wrote death threats?
...we kidnapped that guy?
...we "made someone disappear"?
...we went to federal prison?
...we got all the way up to six stars?
...we defeated Unicron?
...you caught me wanking it, and didn't care?
...I caught you wanking it, and told your mom?
...you punched me in the nose for the better part of an hour?
...we flushed all those tampons?
...we flushed all those condoms?
...we flushed all my sister's birth control?
...I became an uncle?
...that badger tried to attack my car?
...that time when people actually brushed their teeth?
...I gave you the Hope diamond, and you died of it's curse?
...when we couldn't speel worth shite?
...you gave me a lobotomy?
...I gave you a kidney?
...I gave you one of MY kidneys?
...you owed me money for a kidney?
...we woke up next to each other?
...we both got "amnesia"?
...we woke up to each other again?
...you started forgetting my birthday?
...we both stopped caring?
...we both got really bored?
...you read something stupid on a forum?

I bet you do.

I've already got a kilt, Clan Robertson tartan.

I have a fear of pictures of scrotums

Using bullshit information that you make up off the top of your head is not illegal.

First name: Jim
Last name: Bob Joe
Address: 1345 Poo Street

You get the idea.

But actually using someone else's real information is identity theft and is a federal offence. And if you're over 18, you do big-boy time.

>Internet Properties
>>General tab
>>>Click "Delete cookies," "Delete files," (all offline content as well), then "Clear history."

Wipes anything incriminating off IE.

At 3/7/06 07:51 PM, scottmale24 wrote: You probably shouldn't have agreed to the whole "allowing cocks inside of her" thing in the first place.

Just an opinion.

I was under the impression that she wasn't going to share. I wasn't having this problem until she actually told me herself, because now I know that it actually did happen.

At 3/7/06 07:48 PM, scottmale24 wrote: "I don't want anyone to find out, so I'm posting it on the internet."

Shhh. It's a secret.

This thread pertains to this.

Be forewarned that this is a relationship issue. If you don't want to hear about problems between two people, then don't. For everyone else, I'll try and keep it as simple as possible.

My girlfriend of two years has been living in the next province over (an eight-hour drive away) for about six months, and is going to school. I'm going to go live with her at thend of August.

Before she left, we made the arrangement that while we were apart, we could have one-night stands, or purely sexual relationships with other people. At the time, this sounded pretty good to me, from just about every angle. I would be able to keep the girl I love, but not wonder "what might have been." She felt the same way, so we both agreed to it.

I've gone and visited her twice since then, and everything seemed fine. I tried to send of dual vibes of "I'm not really her boyfriend," as well as "If I see you touch her, I'm going to tear your sack off." Both weekends went really well.

About a week ago, she came home for her spring break, and we were talking. She casually asked if I had "relieved and stress" since the last time I saw her. I told her that despite our arrangement, I hadn't seen anyone else yet.

She got this really soured, surprised look on her face, like I hadn't told her what she wanted to hear. "Oh, because I have."

The story was simply that she got drunk on tequila on night and had sex with a guy she had known since she started going to school there. We actually had a good laugh about this, because appearently, the guy is awful in bed. Something about him not sizing up and not lasting more than twenty minutes.

We finished talking and I headed off to work. About an hour later, the fact actually hit me. She had sex with another guy. They got naked together, she touched his cock, and he put it inside her. The girl I want to live with HAD SEX WITH SOMEONE ELSE.

It rang in my mind for hours, and all I could was stand there, numb from head to toe. I had to be sent home because I felt like shit. She went home the next day, and we didn't talk much.

The next few days, at random moments, I would see them in my mind, having sex. And the first few times it happened I threw up. I couldn't handle it. The fact that she had got drunk and fucked another guy was simply TOO MUCH for me to bear.

I still haven't talked to her since she went back.

I still want to be with this girl, but the fact that I know she did this is actually killing me.

The guess the best that I can hope for is that I'll just get over it.

My profile picture is the best pic of me that has ever been taken of me. I keep it in my wallet, and use it almost everywhere.

At 3/7/06 07:20 PM, The_Crook wrote: What???? tell us what it is.

If I was going to tell people, I'd have to start another topic about it, because it's convoluted and off this topic anyway.

If I can't actually get some memory erasing going on, I might just have to face the music and accept what I know. It's just taking way to long to get past the fact.

I've just been really fucked up the last couple of days. It's like a numb feeling, all over.

Too personal, sorry...

Nancy Drew.

Pick one.

Old pic, old news.

YOU make me want to yawn.

But seriously, even just thinking about yawning is supposed to make your face gape.

Look, I just did it.

I know I might sound crazy, stupid, and totally asinine by saying this but I need someone to erase my memory of the last week.

No, really.

I got told something that has been causing a steady stream of mental and physical anguish for the last six days, and frankly, I'd be better off not knowing what I know now.

Is there actually a practice of memory-erasing? Or would I have to just beat myself in the head with a lead pipe until it goes away by itself?

LET'S FACE IT - Children are either the products of "emotion," or they're just mistakes. THINK - do YOU have a brother or sister that seems unreasonably older than you are? Have you ever wondered if that guy who "raised" you is REALLY your "dad"? Do you even KNOW your parents? Or MAYBE you've just gotten those TEST RESULTS back and it WASN'T what you wanted to hear? Huh? WELL?

It's WEIRD, isn't it - spending the first decade of your life in a sort of stupid bliss, not even realizing that you're TRULY HAPPY until that DAY when all of a sudden you're NOT and everything CHANGES and you start thinking about how other people LOOK AT YOU and you wonder if you're UGLY and you have to STOP doing things like making animal noises with your mouth or fart sounds with your forearms so you either "follow the crowd" and start lifting weights or putting on makeup or you just GIVE UP - because the LAST thing you can possibly imagine HAPPENING to you is getting LAID.

Even though you think about it ALL THE TIME

Everywhere - at school, eating breakfast, shopping with grandma - you can't get it out of your mind - does Grandma think about it as much as I do? You KNOW that your parents haven't EVER had it - Why does Dad work in the basement all the time? Mom didn't make dinner again. How did Dad's hair get brown again all of a sudden? If I could JUST get LAID I'd be HAPPY.
Maybe you start reading a lot, or try drawing or something, even though it's not FUN like it used to be because all you can think about is that you're probably doing it WRONG, or that it's BAD and someone's going to NOTICE, maybe someone you really don't want to notice, maybe someone you really want to have SEX with. Or maybe you get lucky and you get to have a CAR or some COOL CLOTHES or maybe you're just REALLY lucky and you're really BEAUTIFUL or HANDSOME so you get to find out what it's ALL ABOUT before everyone ELSE does. Maybe you even FALL in LOVE because you FINALLY got to HAVE SEX with someone but you haven't known that person long enough to start being IRRITATED by them or to RESENT them or be DISGUSTED by their physical appearance or their STUPID HABITS. Or maybe you start DRINKING or taking DRUGS so you can BEAR the sight of their NAKED FLESH and you can STILL take your PLEASURE without being filled with DESPAIR or a HOLLOW feeling of SOMETHING - who knows what it is - it just doesn't feel RIGHT and you want OUT - RIGHT NOW.

Loving taken from Chris Ware
Thanks for screwing me up forever Chris.

Group lunch!

Pass the mayo!

Pillsbury-sized ten-roper

Corey Hart needs to jello-wrestle Marky Mark.

And I mean NOW.

Love is like showering with all your clothes on.
It's a really bad idea, but you might accidentally do it if you get drunk enough.

Love is like living next to a garage band.
You like to look at them every once in a while, but they just get more annoying to listen to as time goes on.

At 2/13/06 05:22 PM, MrCrawford wrote: Seriously, I think this has got to be the most bullshit holiday on the caldendar. Why?

1) It capitalizes off of peoples deepest emotions

So does Christmas, Hallowe'en, Easter, etc. Holidays all play on different emotions.

2) It tells us we need an excuse to show our love for people

No, it tells you to take time out of your god-damn day to sit down with someone you love for a couple of fucking hours and spend time with them. No one is forcing you to buy things. It's called advertising and it happens all the fucking time.

3) Suicides are highest this time of year *exception: Christmas*, because people think that they NEED romance on some random day because Hallmark said you had to.

Suicides are highest in Finland. "FUCK FINLAND because people kill themselves there!"
Also: don't try and make a fact, then add "exception" to the end of it.

You can hate the holiday all you want, just take it outside. Hopefully you'll get hypothermia.

Love is like having a dictionary strapped to your chest.
It makes it tough to get out of bed.

At 2/13/06 05:20 PM, My_Alias wrote: Whats your target market? Kids are gay people? Or both... Eww...

You said it, not me.

The best products don't have target markets.

DC is going to jump all over this like Krypto on Superman's leg.

My Rectal Abuse Batman with Hyper-Sodomizer™!

(Figures and tiny tube of sex lube sold seperately.)

At 2/11/06 06:39 PM, gumOnShoe wrote: The man probably felt safe in the knowledge that you're not Chuck Norris.

I'm pretty sure the man was Chuck Norris. He was probably throwing out all his used tampons and vaginal douches. I could smell his rank cunt from where I stood, and hear Pretty Woman coming from the TV inside his house.