Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

At 8/3/08 12:13 PM, MickTheChampion wrote:

At 8/3/08 12:05 PM, HaniiPuppy wrote: And where are the bagpipes, Poteen, kilts, and Red dragon sitting on your green carpet?

Scotland isn't British, Ireland definitely isn't British and Wales isn't British.

Thank fuck theres someone on here who actually UNDERSTANDS the difference between England, Britain and the United Kingdom. Freaking Geo-noobs.

At 8/3/08 12:04 PM, putzpie wrote: So now you're going to complain about how america, a national super power, is the worst country in the world and how everybody there sucks, but do nothing about it and still give your queen a blowjob at the same time?

works for me.

No, I actualy like America, and their people. Just some of them are douches, must be said.

At 7/15/08 03:33 PM, JNeuray wrote: Q - Am I gay?
A - Boobies.

Oh dude, sorry to, you know, spoil your fun, but the topic was about asking Google Images HARD questions.

No, but I heard this rumour that if Mr.T and Chuck Norris walked into a bar, the entire country the bar was in would vapourise instantly, because no establishment can contain such high levels of awsomeness.

At 8/3/08 11:58 AM, Chozz wrote: Cup o' tea guvnar? Crumpets did I hear someone say?

Haha youre mixing Cockney with Hamshir talk!
Oh, and to StickyWicky, we have some in the breadbin, but I am in no mood, seeing as the only jam we have is Hartleys.

I am:
1.Wearing a Ben Sherman shirt
2. Watching Fawlty Towers
3.Listening to some Old School Jungle
4. Drinking a large mug of Earl Grey, 1 sugar and a squeeze of lemon
5. I have a plate of Jacob's and slices of Cathederal City next to me
6. Its August, and its raining
7. Dont want to perpetuaute the stereotype, but due to over exposure to fluoride when I was younger, I have bad teeth.

:D

AAAAH I SUCK AT HTML!

*cries*

At 8/3/08 01:29 AM, TheWolfe wrote:

im not saying a dollar per foot, of course noone would do a million feet, they's die, but just 1000 feet into water

Just 1000 feet? JUST?
Maybe for like...10million dollars. I mean we users have seen plenty of people jumping of waterfalls...cartoons, reality shows, youtube, im sure. But imagine yourself up there, 1000 feet above ground.

Youd shit your pants.

<a>http://www.infoplease.com/ipa/A000178 1.html<a>

And I dont think anyone has even survived Angel.

So no.

At 8/1/08 07:24 AM, OneWordName wrote: Get the fuck off Newgrounds and do something about it instead of posting about it.

Don't be an asshole, telling people about it usually helps make it better.

At 8/3/08 06:50 AM, SkyBloo wrote: I ate a sandwich

discuss

Pics or it didnt happen.

Hey remeber the other day when you asked me what the defenition of irony was?

haha family guy refernce

How do you ruin a forum?

By having fags post stupid topics

HAHAHAHHAHAHAH!

Darude- Sandstorm

What the fuck is everyones deluded obsession with Sandstorm? Its like, they have it on thier phone, then theyre like, ooh yeah im a rave head because I have one and know of trance song. That sucks!

I heard it once, and now i can't get away from it. Almost every dance, trance, and prance fucking compliation album has it somewhere on it, smack in the middle of disc two, to fucking break up the whole damm CD.

And the worse thing is, my little brother now thinks he is a raver because HE plays it out of his bedroom continually. I got to the point where even though I could player better songs, much louder, out of MY room, I went to his phone and deleted the fucking thing.

DUD DER DER DER DER DUD DER DER DER DER DEE DEE DEE- GAHHHHHHHHHHH!

At 12/15/06 05:34 PM, StrawberryFFuck wrote: i have more than 200 (too lazy to list)

Ditto, I'm a lazy film enthusiast. Mine is probably nearer to 300 though.

Does anybody know of any decent stand-alone video conversion software? The reason is that I have some large AVI files that I want to convert, and all the online convertors have a file size limit. Also, I can't install any software as I don't have admin privelidges. I can run exes though....

I was on my friends Facebook, looking at her holiday photos. I found this.

never mind the hot chick, look at the damm turtle-man!

WHITE
DOG
SHIT

srsly, wtf?

Yellow Ribbon

Summary-

Bill is a character who is more sinister than we first percieve. Is it to do with Simon, his annoyingly up-beat colleague, or is it do with the broken microwave?

Thanks in advance.

Curvy, but I love it when girls have skinny waists and their pelvis bones show a bit, with a really nice stomach.

mmmmm

http://xkcd.com/418/

Useful advice, for me anyway.

XKCD

webcomic

At 5/10/08 02:25 PM, iMiserable wrote: Everytime you don't use the search bar, God cries.

I say you! You hath quoth the kitten joke. Thy shall not use the gramatical strucutre OUT OF CONTEXT!

NYARRRR!

At 5/10/08 02:22 PM, TKHawaiianAZN wrote: Answer these questions! If you have the best answers, you win a hug, a cookie, and maybe something that includes online play in a game. XD

Reason to answer these questions: You can't leave questions unanswered, Lol.
Just copy and paste the questions if you like, in your answer.

1) What do you prefer more in movies, Action or Story? Story
2) Peanut Butter and... bananas... im seriuos, its soo good!
3) You find god, what's your immediate wish? That this summer, every day will be nice and sunny!
4) What would you bring with you to a deserted island? iPod
5) Sword, Shield, Staff, or Giant Mushroom? Sword
6) What is the fourth strike in bowling called? Eh
7) The Good Side or The Evil Side? Ugly side
8) Mario or Sonic? Sonic
9) If you could have a super power, what would it be? Time travel
10) If you had to live without a sense, which would you pick to live without? (Touch, Smell, Taste, Sight, Hearing) Smell

LOL DID I PASS?

At 5/10/08 07:16 AM, Captain-Jack wrote: Dear Lord. Her voice makes me want to flush out my ears with hydrochloric acid.

and use a catctus as a q-tip

At 5/10/08 12:12 PM, Arbstar wrote: Manually Delete it
Its a Vista glitch

Vista has GLITCHES!!!

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

So I want to buy a guitar. I am a competent pianist, and I can play a few guitar chords, which Iearnt from borrowing friend's acoustic's and the electrics at my school. But I am still a complete guitar novice.

I want to buy a guitar, but I am not sure first of all whether I should buy an electric or acoustic, and second of all which make or brand or model of either is best.

To complicate things, I have an amp suitable for an electric, because my borther uses it for a microphone. Also, my friend says he MIGHT be able to sell me his old electric for around £30.

So what do I do?

My story. Its for an English Coursework

Part 1

Part 2

Please read!

My elnglish coursework-creative writing. Enjoy!

Yellow Ribbon

Prologue
Bill was a beans on toast sort of man. A lifeless, translucent shell, his job, spare time, social life and indeed love life were altogether empty. No-one cared, because he didn't care, about anything. His late night shift at an all-night filling station meant he could avoid contact with people as much as possible, which for Bill, was exactly what he wanted. This is why he hated Simon. Simon was just about the only person in the world who had ever managed to get a word out of Bill. Simon shared the shift with Bill, and often out of his boredom of having no-one to else to talk to, tried to spark up conversation. He tried to talk about football or music, new, girls, anything. Bill just simply didn't like talking.

After work Bill would normally slump in front of the TV, with a microwave meal warming his lap. He would fill his head with mindless rubbish, which was all he could get at six in the morning. The same routine for nearly twenty six years had left him secure, and satisfied with his life. Not happy, but settled. He left school at sixteen, after gaining an average set of GCSE's. College, in his view, was a waste of time. Its not as if anyone does anything in college other than party, which to Bill, is a private hell. All Bill would like to do is live life from start to finish, as quickly as possible...

. . . .

It was Tuesday night, and Bill had just started his shift, which took him through to early next morning. Bill showed no emotion on his face as he ambled through the doors. He rarely expressed his feelings on the outside, which one on of his weirdest attributes.
"You should play poker!" Simon joked, as Bill shuffled through the store. Bill knew he was just trying to make polite conversation, but was angry. Of course, on the outside he looked exactly the same as always. He wore a permanent frown, with straight thin lips and wispy gray hair. Cold metal square spectacles framed lifeless gray-blue eyes. However scruffy he may seem, Bill was obsessed with personal hygiene. He continually washed his hands, hands that had immaculate nails. His face was always clean shaven every morning, and he never smelled, or went without a bath. His obsession even went to the extent of continually looking in the mirror in the back room. No-one ever went in the back room, so Bill was never seen checking for flecks of food on his face, or a stray piece of lettuce lodged in his teeth. He often lost track of time in that room, with its dark and cramped atmosphere creating a contrast to the brightly lit store. It was a place where he could block out everything without being disturbed. No-one could hear anything through the thick set heavy door, with a strong latching bolt...

The shift was nearly over, and Bill was oddly tired. He never normally got tired, because he slept in the day. It was an odd way to live, in terms of light and dark, seeing as Bill never actually saw much natural daylight. It suited his character, comparing to a nocturnal creature; lonesome and secret. Bill would be the best person in the world if he wanted to hide something.
The last few minutes ticked by, and Bill watched the clock. He was really eager to go home, watch the news with a curry, and go to bed. Finally the little red hand on the clock passed the twelve. Six in the morning. The most peaceful, quite time of all, Bill reckoned. He walked, fatigued, to his shabby 1980s hatchback, completely ignoring Simon. The car had scratched blue paintwork flaking with blood red rust. He unlocked it and drove off, the whine and scream of the engine smothering Simon's words of farewell.

Bill arrived at his small single bedroom bungalow. It was in the middle of a quite estate, just outside Harrowford. He chose it because it was cheap, and close to work. He didn't care one bit about the looks of the house, inside or out. After all, who but he would see it? Stumbling through the double locked door, he slung his keys into the bowl in the kitchen, and without even stopping to take his shoes off, walked into the kitchen. Opening his fridge, which was a mouldy yellowish white, he reached past the microwave toad in the hole, and microwave sag aloo, and took out a microwave tikka. He quickly slammed it into the microwave, and slumped in front of the television. His single armchair in his shabby lounge creaked when he sat down. The chair was once shiny leather, but now was drab and dusty. The part that he sat on had been polished by his trousers, after many, many hours spent sitting, wasting away the time. As he watched an awful family struggle and get humiliated by the host on a chat show, he heard a small pop from the kitchen.
"Fuck." He thought to himself. He sighed, and dragged himself up, and moped through to the kitchen. He had forgotten to pierce the plastic film on his curry, and the contents had exploded in the microwave, splattering red sauce all over the inside. He opened the microwave, and his the remains of his ruined meal slopped out onto his shirt. "Great. Another ruined shirt." He was extremely irritated, not only because he would go hungry and would ruin a shirt, but because all the others were at the dry cleaners. He would have to wear it tomorrow. In his anger, slammed the microwave shut, and doing so he broke the little plastic catch. He sighed, now in despair, and decided he would sort it out tomorrow. He slouched through to the lounge, and fell on the sofa. Now showing was a news broadcast about a missing girl in the area. He fell asleep, with a last few words escaping from the reporter's lips.
"She was known as Emily, aged between nineteen and twenty-one, and always wore a yellow ribbon in her hair. She was last seen in the Harrowford area".

Bill woke at about six next evening. He often slept long periods of time, which may seem like a waste of time, but otherwise all he would do is watch telly, or wander aimlessly in the park down the road. Bill woke up in the armchair, with the six o'clock news blaring, and the stains on his shirt solidified and crusty. Some of them stuck to his skin. He felt awful, but showered and changed his underwear. He gulped down a caffeine pill, and a bad of crisps, with a can of pop to wash it down. Bill knew his diet was poor, but to be honest didn't give two tosses. His weeks' salary on a gym membership last year had proven useless, and he had turned up all of three times. By now he had accepted that he would never get any female company; not that he wanted any; so he figured what was the point in looking good. Who for? And what was the point in eating healthily if he was going to die in ten years time anyway? However, going against all this, he didn't smoke. He couldn't stand the unhygienic habits it brought about. After killing time at home, watching television and snacking on supermarket cola, and a ten-pack of chocolate bars, it was time for work. He got changed downstairs, watching another new broadcast about the missing girl. Emily. The name, oddly wrung a bell. He shook his head, and switched the telly off. As the light died out of the screen, the last words to leave the reporter's mouth were:
"And as I'm sure you all know, she always wore a yellow ribbon", but the rest was drowned out by the scream-like noise the television made when the television lost its power. Yellow ribbon. The words rang in Bill's head. He quickly forgot about it, as he ran through the door.

"Blimey Bill! Looks like you've committed a felony!" Simon exclaimed as he caught sight of Bill's shirt.
"Its curry", was Bill's blunt retort. He was never in the mood for Simon's up-beat annoyance, and especially not today. He had been told that he had voided the manufacturer's guarantee on the microwave, and would have to buy a new one.
"What's up with you, Bill? You never talk, and recently you've seemed even more glum than usual. Is something wrong?"
"Nothing" grunted Bill.
"Me and the guys are going to the pub this Saturday night. Want to join us? It's gonna be a right lau-"
"No.", interrupted Bill.
"But you never-"
"I said NO", insisted Bill, angry now.
Simon let out a low whistle, and chose to stop trying. Bill walked past and searched for the keys to the register. The checked his trousers pocket, where they normally were. Simon piped up.
"Can you smell something? Smells awful in here! I think it's coming from the back room. I'm going to check it out. Can't have the place smelling like dead meat, it'll put the customers off!"
Bill grunted an approval, and carried on searching for the keys. He closed his hands around something in his pocket. The something was unfamiliar. Just as he was bringing the object from his pocket, a man's shout came from the back room. It was a cry of sheer terror, sheer disgust. Bill looked down to his hand. There, in the palm of his left hand, lay a yellow ribbon.

Hope you enjoyed it!!

whatever you do, make sure its light. I have a heavy one, and its a bitch.