I'm more of the CopAFeelYa type. So, Tornado watch and about to get hammered with wind / rain. Just saw a cow fly by my window . . .
I imagine you with a swelled knee, puffing a corn cob pipe, telling the kids about the storm of aught 6. "Let me tell you, kids, you nevah did see a stahm like that no sir. Rained for days, flooded the town on out to Sutter's farm. No siree, ain't nothing like that since the stahm of '65 that killed all those Chinese railroad workers and on nights like this you can still hear their cries for help in the mines, boy howdy. Don't you ever go down that rahd, see, that rahd is cursed."
No joke, my cousins and I acted out this Canadian Heritage Moment as a sketch at Chinese New Year one year. It was not well received.
I don't buy it. Where the hell did you kids find that much nitroglycerin? Canada really is a different place if the local hardware shop sells that.
JUST IN: Spoiler The girl just told me she has faked orgasms with me because she was too drunk to actually do it. NEWS UPDATE: Spoiler I told her that I was too drunk to give a fuck anway.
Ron Jeremy hospitalized. GODDAMN YOU, GOD. Don't take The Hedgehog. Not yet, his mission to spread greezy love and prolapse hooker anuses isn't done yet. Two things struck me. Ron is the epitome of the porn caricature, I have no doubt he is the basis of the entire archetype. And, that man is only 59. If it comes to be... May a flight of angels sing thee to sweet, blessed rest.
So my finger accidentally broke through the toilet paper and touched my ass while I was wiping this afternoon.
That's not how gay realization happens. It's by looking into the bathroom mirror, realizing how good-looking you are and just saying "Shit, I'm not wasting this on CHICKS anymore!"
Yeah, Im not a huge fan of getting poop on my finger. Especially when it's the result of the hibachi I had last night.
Isn't that how one becomes Durbanite? Soon to appear in the thread about lying... "I managed to convince these drunk chicks that I was an Italian boxer named Julio." I mean, come on, Julio isn't even an Italian name. J doesn't exist in the Italian alphabet.
No, I digest my food like a normal person. Plus I don't eat peas, because peas are fucking disgusting.
That could've been me lying. He barely spoke English and the only things we could understand was that he was a boxer and that he lived in Rome. I would not be surprised if we misheard his name and just continued to call him Julio for the rest of the night. In other news, gee whiz I wish my bosses hadn't surprised me with my interview for a promotion today. If I had known I would have probably worn a bra.