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{Non Sequitur desperately trying to be funny}

At 2/10/11 03:36 PM, Supasang wrote: Who teh fuck cares about them I have a hard time eating every 2 days So tehy can choke on their own shit.

Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, think I'll go and eat some mud.

What does a robot eat for its birthday?" asked Al. Obama cringed yet stared shitting a midget because Adolf Hitler's butt was crawling with Jewish syphilis. And suddenly lesbians appeared!
"Fire the cannons, bitches!"
Adolf played with his pale wrinkly affidavit as Asian businessmen filed reports on Zen-Buddhism.
"You are a moron." said Bob, right after a vigorous morning swim in a shark-filled Iranian bank that's frozen.

"Whatever man I'm just keepin' it realer than a cake in a dirty hospital."

Bob smirked. "Silly lady, tricks are for my sock puppets!"

With diabetes, comes great ass cancer and cake filled with human hands and responsibility.

"Yo, Bobby," spurted an Asian businessman, "I gotta shit now."

Feces exploded while he reminisced about last night, and its stench lingered for hours. Clogged toilet made him only madder. The plunger was stuck tightly inside Al's round gauged ear. Hundreds of flies were exploding with pus-filled boners shooting democratic jews. The flies were unaware that they were really desperate for some attention. He wiped Andrew Jackson with the toilet paper soaked in hot water.

Meanwhile, in Austria, there were mutants, employed by Rush Limbaugh, Hitler's favourite

At 2/10/11 03:42 PM, VintageTorrie wrote: Apparently, in China, it's illegal for a car to stop at a zebra crossing.

I don't think that's the 'stupidest' law China have to be honest.

I imagine it appears quite far down the list...

Respect her ability to have her own separate hobbies and interests.

Wait...no...Am I doing it right?

That's a picture of a girl?

You're just adorable aren't you.

Mark Kermode's radio5 film review show.

I don't need your recognition or approval.

Fuck you......that's the punchline.

At 2/10/11 06:22 AM, tinytim12 wrote:

At 2/9/11 09:51 PM, TheTrooper5 wrote: Clive sat down at his desk like a man who couldn't type very well standing up.

Lolwut? What does a man who can't type well standing up look like? The metaphor is too vague.

It's not a metaphor, it's a 'garden path' joke, a pastiche of somebody who 'sat down like a man determined' or whatnot, but I can see why it's confusing.

This insect-weather contempt was cut short

I think you mean commentary.

No...I meant contempt.

"What? Like....a communist?" Every word choked Clive as they dredged themselves out of his throat. Clive remained motionless, his eyes transfixed at an arbitrary spot on the wall that may as well have been a sight on par with the Sistine chapel, albeit confined to a 1cm piece of drywall.
"Your desk looks very...presentable"

At first I thought Veronica said the last line. Indicate that Clive was speaking for the second time.

Overall it was pretty good and funny. Just don't put in that much metaphors - they lose their magic if you use them too often.

Cheers ears. Much obliged.

What does a robot eat for its birthday?" asked Al. Obama cringed yet stared shitting a midget because Adolf Hitler's butt was crawling with Jewish syphilis. And suddenly lesbians appeared!
"Fire the cannons, bitches!"
Adolf played with his pale wrinkly affidavit as Asian businessmen filed reports on Zen-Buddhism.
"You are a moron." said Bob, right after a vigorous morning swim in a shark-filled Iranian bank that's frozen.

"Whatever man I'm just keepin' it realer than a cake in a dirty hospital."

Bob smirked. "Silly lady, tricks are for my sock puppets!"

With diabetes, comes great ass cancer and cake filled with human hands and responsibility.

"Yo, Bobby," spurted an Asian businessman, "I gotta shit now."

Feces exploded while he reminisced about last night, and its stench lingered for hours. Clogged toilet made him only madder. The plunger was stuck tightly inside Al's round gauged ear. Hundreds of flies were exploding with pus-filled boners shooting democratic jews. The flies were unaware that they were really desperate for some attention. He wiped Andrew Jackson with the toilet paper soaked in hot water.

Meanwhile, in Austria, there were mutants, employed by

I can't believe I've never bothered going on this forum before, what with me doing a course in creative writing, (and I'm aware of the boundaries of irony and hypocrisy in marking and critiquing people's imagination, but that's irrelevant)

I wrote this in about an hour or so, with a 1500 max word limit. I just wrote it as it is with no clear plan of action other than trying to emulate a sardonic, ironic 'Coen Brothers'-esque tone.
Enjoy.

The Job Offer Clive sat down at his desk like a man who couldn't type very well standing up. These TPS reports weren't going to file themselves, which in all honesty was a good thing, else Clive would be unemployed. The dull 'reverbing' buzz of the computer was softly pleasant, like feedback from the world's weakest guitar amplifier; it was the sort of noise that made Clive feel secure from the pitch black clouds that loomed outside, and the rain that was battering the window like a swarm of irritated wasps. Angry enough to form a collective mob harbouring similar feelings of resentment, but not smart enough to work out how to use their collective mass to open a window; to summarise, Clive thought....Wasps are idiots.
This insect-weather contempt was cut short when Clive heard a voice call his name, was a woman, a woman's voice drenched in stern, yet class, authority.
"Clive, can I see you in my office?"
"I don't know, maybe if you moved one of your cabinets away from the window. Or set up some cameras" He pushed his glasses awkwardly with his forefinger
"No I mean, now. Can I physically see you there now?"
"Oh. Right. Yeah I'll be there in a sec. Actually, seeing as you're partially out of your office, wouldn't it be easier for you to come to me?"
"It's a private matter"
"Then why do you need me?"
"A private matter ABOUT YOU"
"Oh.....then you could just whisper"
"Just get in here quickly, ok? Please?"
"Righto. I'll be there in a sec" Clive instinctively felt the dull gut punch of panic, like when you take a bite out of a chocolate cake and realise it's merely a sour fruit gateaux.
Steven from row C mimed the act of a noose around his neck and winked at Clive. Clive raised an eyebrow and tightened his forehead, unsure what the 17th century punishment for stealing corn had to do with his impromptu meeting with Veronica.

Clive ambled towards Veronica's door and knocked; a relatively pointless act as she A) had a wall of windows and B) had just asked for him. Pushing open the door Clive stood upright, hands in his pockets.
"You wanted to see me Veronica" She rose from her chair and placed her palms on the desk, her black hair hanging in front of her eyes, in a way that only hair can.
Her blazer was unbuttoned in a 'get off speeding tickets' fashion and she had all the confidence and presence of a woman who knew what she was doing, be it in terms of a strong demeanour and a fully working ability to send electrical signals to the brain, but that's just an unrelated scientific truth that only Clive would have acknowledged.
"Are you married Clive?"
"No"
"Girlfriend?"
"I'm sorry?"
"As in..Do..you...have..one?"
"Oh...No, no I don't" He didn't so much as speak his words as struggle to push them out, he had a disturbing feeling that Veronica didn't want to talk about the quality of fax machine paper. Which frankly, needed to be discussed.
"I'm going to be blunt with you Clive" Veronica moved in front of her desk, arms folded and almost tiptoeing forward, slinked in front of him.
"I'm bored Clive. I'm just....so bored all of the time"
"Have you tried getting....a game boy?" He swallowed. Hard. She placed her hand at the top of his thigh. This was rare, hands were never at the top of Clive's thigh, not even his own, save for some aggressive crumb removal whenever he'd be careless whilst eating muffins.
"My Husband" She whispered in a voice that had no place in an office, "My husband refuses to...give me things. He doesn't share"
"What? Like....a communist?" Every word choked Clive as they dredged themselves out of his throat. Clive remained motionless, his eyes transfixed at an arbitrary spot on the wall that may as well have been a sight on par with the Sistine chapel, albeit confined to a 1cm piece of drywall.
"Your desk looks very...presentable"
"I fuck on it"
"Wow...that must be...bad for its overall state. I mean, it mustn't be doing the stability any...favours" She removed her hand, stepped backwards and laughed, her usual feminine voice becoming quite deep and aggressive. Clive had never considered himself an attractive individual. One colleague had once joked that he had all the appeal of a mass grave full of children. Well it seemed a joke. Clive had laughed, but in retrospect it was on par with the laugh of a hostage.
She looked at him, one eyebrow raised and a stern expression on her lips. Here was a woman who wanted wine and he was bringing her coke. Two beads of sweat raced down Clive's forehead, his hands clenched in his pockets.
"So...I have to go, I'll be done with the Coleman reports pretty soon. Yeah..pretty soonish"
"I'm not going to lie Clive. The reason I've chosen you out of all those idiots outside is that you're least likely to tell all your buddies about this over poker or whatever the hell you men do. You're efficient and you're reliable, and that's what I need." Clive was clenching his fists so hard that his nails were digging into his palms, it was a good thing he was pedantic with his clipping, else they would have caused some serious palm irritation.
"Veronica. This seems very...un-you. It's quite stereotypical and a borderline offensive portrayal of women, and as a staunch equal rights advocate I find that quite......unpleasant" She was so close now he could feel her breath on his lips and, truth be told, it was quite annoying. This was at the forefront of Clive's mind, and for a second he considered taking up her offer if only to get rid of that irritating warmth that she was blowing onto his face.
"You don't know me Clive." She smiled "I see you every day, you eat by yourself, you do your work double time, hell you even sit in your car before work every morning for a few minutes"
"I wait for the song on the radio to finish...else it just irks me"
Veronica moved backwards and then sat down, a move so abrupt that Clive took a second to realise that she was no longer in his face, she began shuffling papers, her eyes away from Clive.
"Um....what are you doing?" He stuttered.
"Work, some of us aren't as good as you." She laughed "But, just think about what I said OK? You can go now" She winked once, that was one too many for Clive. He exited stiffly, all the poise and subtlety of a man who'd just witnessed a murder. He ambled back to his desk, Steven was still 'noosing' about as he walked past.
"What was that about then man?"Steven smirked, the smirk of a prick.
"I think she wants to have sex with me" Clive stuttered each word, deadpan. Steven rolled back in his chair and laughed loudly.
"That's classic man! Shit, I didn't know you were a funny guy! Well, whatever Dude. I gotta work"
Clive sunk into his chair, expressionless. He had a plethora of emotions to choose from in this emotional tombola, but he could only pick out one; guilt. He felt bad lying to Veronica. He'd already done the Coleman reports hours ago.

At 2/9/11 09:39 PM, Zippy-MyMusic wrote: Well...judging by the fact that I just signed up today, and thus my icon is a plunger....most likely not a high rate of survival

first post :)

Welcome to Newgrounds chap, I assure you there's far superior topics on the BBS then this.

They better not fuck with me if they want their nuts and screws to remain STURDY AND TIGHT!

Some people don't even have to jump

I might be seeing Paul, as it comes out that day (Cause it's Simon Pegg's birthday)

But nothing 'Valentines' as I have the appeal of a mass grave of toddlers apparently.

IN SOVIET RUSSHAA BBS POSTZ ON U!!!

"Toodaloo Motherfuckaaaa"
The only bit I actually laughed at loud at, it's a sad state when a character on screen for about 5 minutes is far more enjoyable then the rest of the cast.

Hahaha....DanDong.

At 2/6/11 07:26 PM, omgkiller635 wrote: am I the only one that gets pissed off when someone says that the bass isn't important for a song or that it 's easy to play ? ITS THE FUCKING FOUNDATION OF EVERY SONG!!!!!

Apart from When Doves Cry.

I like how everybody is just assuming they would "TOTALLY FUK TWO GURLZ AT ONCE"

Wow, any more brilliant facts?

This man has nothing on you.

Ted Nugent joke.......

Stupid questions.

No, I have a face like somebody punching a quiche.

Jeez why is sheee madd?
ANYBODEE WUD BE LUKEE TO HAV YU 4 A FREND.

Anybody with low self confidence about themselves won't like being called 'dumb'.

I ask because I'm spending a week there from August 24th.
To cut a long story short, my friends parents who are richer than most countys (Or states to you adorable americans) are paying for me, him and two of our friends to go abroad to celebrate....something vague, uni results or whatever.

The original idea was Berlin, that fell through for various reasons, than it became somewhere in Spain which ALSO got shot down because their daughter just came back from said place and described it as 'shit and all other manner of adjectives'. Today his Dad settled on Malia in Crete, and seeing as they're paying I figured 'WOOOOO'.

But, I've heard...and read...and seen...and been told that Malia is for pretty much godawfully infested with terrible human beings and chavs and rowdy raucous neanderthalic individuals.

Wall of text...essentially, has anybody been and what was it like?

This isn't me being ungrateful, they're paying and I'm generally very humbled by it and respectful, just want to see if it's what various sources make it out to be.

You look like an incredibly lame Geordi La Forge...

Like

HUR HUR

That one where the cat asks for a cheeseburger using hillarious unintentionally bad grammar and spelling.

ITZ REELEY FUNNY