Alter, WAS ZUR HÖLLE.Zitat:
Zitat von Icetongue
Edit:
Ohne Scheiß jetzt man, Alter. ALTER.
Edit:
Alter.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cKKyr...7&feature=plcp
... Scheiße.
Druckbare Version
Alter, WAS ZUR HÖLLE.Zitat:
Zitat von Icetongue
Edit:
Ohne Scheiß jetzt man, Alter. ALTER.
Edit:
Alter.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cKKyr...7&feature=plcp
... Scheiße.
YARRHARR!Zitat:
Zitat von Wetako
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rNkKAJwNPAM
Oh nein...Zitat:
Zitat von Icetongue
OH NEIN!
"There's plenty of foxes around."
DU PENNER! LASS DEN ARMEN.... AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGHHH!!!!
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/...adventure-game
Ich bring das einfach mal hier vorbei und so, ja.
I knew getting back in the "dating game" would be a challenge after being out of it for over 5 years. When I was released from Joliet, I had to learn all the new things "the dating crowd" was trying. I knew about scented candles and Luther Vandross CDs, and sure was glad to hear people still use them. But I had no idea that "lube" was so popular with the "romantics" out there. All it took was one stroll through the Walgreens personal hygiene aisle to prove I had to learn a new thing.
"Where to start?", I wondered. I wanted something simple. However, all I saw in the stores were lubricants that were flavored with cinnamon and paprika, or designed to somehow "heat" your private parts. No way, Jose! (I experienced the "heat" thing personally once after an adventurous incident with a toaster. I'll stick with "room temperature" from now on, thank you very much.)
Luckily, I found a plain, old-fashioned lubricant that would not make me smell like a dessert topping. And it came in this HUGE tub! No more awkward late-night Walgreens runs for me, once I could get my hands on this lubricant bin. Now, I admit the price tag was kinda hefty. But after selling the ol' Pontiac Sunfire and borrowing some cash from Aunt Gladys, I was "ready to place my order."
The product only took a week to arrive, and got to my apartment just in time for my first real "date" since the gas station incident. You can bet I was nervous for this one. When I got off the bus to meet Carla in front of the Chili's, I just about had a heart attack! The only thing keeping me calm was knowing that I could not possibly run out of lube that night. I gave Carla a reassuring nod and smile, as if to say "Don't worry, Carla, I have plenty of lubricant for later."
The dinner was great, and after knocking back a couple Mojo Mango Margaritas, we were ready to head back to my apartment. I winked and told Carla, "Let's SLIP on out of here," to see if she understood the lubricant lingo. I think she did. Throughout the bus ride back, I grinned and hummed Luther Vandross tunes to set the mood.
When we got to my place, I already had a candle burning. It was by "Glade", which I think you pronounce like the singer Sade, because it is an exotic candle that smells just like real pine. After we got comfortable, I asked Carla if she could help me with the lube. She looked at me weird, and I couldn't tell if it was because she thought it was "too soon" or because I was pushing a mechanical lift to get the drum barrel out of the storage closet.
So I "took the initiative", as women like men to do, and rolled the barrel out into the living room. "Ready to tap the keg?" I joked, and by "keg" I meant "55-gallon barrel of personal lubricant." She looked at me all shocked, and said "That's it, I'm out of here!" I asked why, since she didn't need to run to Walgreens for more lubricant - there was plenty right here. But she didn't answer, and got up to leave anyway. Then, as Carla was about to pass me and the barrel, she tripped on my dog Poochie and fell right into the lube barrel! The force of the impact downed the barrel and knocked its lid off, sending 55 gallons of water-based lubricant across my faux-hardwood floors.
Carla was completely drenched, and her momentum slid her to the front door - which she somehow managed to pry open with a pair of oven mitts. The last thing I knew, "No-Fun Carla" was screaming profanities and sliding down three flights of steps. I didn't pay much attention because I was too busy trying to salvage the lube. I managed to get about half of it back into the barrel - the other half probably seeped into Mrs. Pulaski's unit below me. I never bothered to ask if she appreciated the free gift of lubricant.
Anyway, despite my "user error", I was quite pleased with the product. These days it's hard to find 55 gallons of scent-free water-based lubricant, and you can find it right here at a discount rate! I had to give it only "4 Stars" because it didn't come with a lifting apparatus. I had to buy my own mechanical lift separately to haul the bin to my future "dates". So if you're ready for fun, "slide" on down to a high quality product at a bargain price!
---
7 p.m. on a Friday night. I’m way uptown taking pictures of mailboxes for my popular Tumblr “Fk Yeah Mailboxes That Look Like Ryan Gosling.” All of a sudden, my mind shudders. That nagging vital chore I couldn’t seem to remember? I remember now. It’s the last day of the month, and I have less than one hour to mail my Hulu premium subscription fee, or else it’ll be shut off.
As Homer Simpson might say, “Doh!” (Episode 4F20 “Marge Learns To Read”)
At 8 p.m., the last mail trucks roll out of Manhattan for the weekend, and this check’s gotta be on one of them. The only post office I can make it to in time is in Harlem. Normally I would be a little trepidatious to travel through the ghetto. Fortunately, I’m with my friend Jim, who has a ghetto pass in the form of an XL Wu-Tang t-shirt coupled with his diehard support for Dr. Ron Paul.
“Libertarianism is by definition not a racist ideology,” Jim yells as we enter the post office on West 125th street. “Unrestrained capitalism can only help poor minorities!”
With the crowd firmly on our side, we proceed to the task at hand. Thanks to my massive intelligence, I have never missed a single joke on “2 Broke Girls,” and I wasn’t about to miss one on account of an unpaid bill. Problem is, we don’t have an envelope, and the packaging store is closed for the night. Luckily, Jim has a copy of the latest Ron Paul White Survival Newsletter on him. Using my self-taught origami skills, I jury-rig a receptacle for my check and write the address. Victoriously, I plunge my free hand into my fanny pack for a stamp, when hard reality hits me like Chris Brown hit musical gold with his catchy chart toppers.
I don’t have any stamps.
How could this be? I always have spare stamps. I went to 17 post offices that afternoon! I feel awful. I feel like Garfield locked in a crate of Mondays.
Yet there’s still hope: the stamp machine here is working. I claw through my pockets in search of 50 cents. No dice. All I have on me are a novelty penny pressed with Goku’s likeness and a worthless pair of dice. Between the two of us, we have no loose change whatsoever (Jim had a ten, but he didn’t want to break it).
I start to panic. There’s no time left to go to an ATM. Jim tells me to relax, that the free market will take care of it, and something about bringing back debtor’s prisons. But I refuse to calm down. There are THREE on-demand streaming Seth MacFarlane cartoons at stake here. Adrenaline surge. It’s action time. Bootstraps be damned, I need to mail this check right now!
I rush over to the shoeless man half-sleeping in the lobby. I plead my case to him: the threatened Hulu subscription, the fruitless fanny pack search, the Goku penny, Ron Paul’s plan to revitalize America’s gold fortresses — all of it, blubbered out among heaving sobs. The stranger looks up at me with blood red eyes, then at Jim in his fading XL Wu-Tang shirt, and he wordlessly hands me two quarters from his Taco Bell cup.
Ladies and gentlemen, miracles do happen. They happen at post offices like these. Don’t believe me? Take the train up to 125th street sometime, where there are angel wings on every homeless man, and episodes of NBC’s smash hit “Whitney” on every monitor.
---
Once upon a mid-day sunny, while I savored Nuts 'N Honey,
With my Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 gal, 128 fl. oz., I swore
As I went on with my lapping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at the icebox door.
'Bad condensor, that,' I muttered, 'vibrating the icebox door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Not to sound like a complainer, but, in an inept half-gainer,
I provoked my bowl to tip and spill its contents on the floor.
Stupefied, I came to muddle over that increasing puddle,
Burgeoning deluge of that which I at present do adore -
Snowy Tuscan wholesomeness exclusively produced offshore -
Purg'ed here for evermore.
And the pool so white and silky, filled me with a sense of milky
Ardor of the type fantastic of a loss not known before,
So that now, to still the throbbing of my heart, while gently sobbing,
I retreated, heading straightway for the tempting icebox door -
Heedless of that pitter-patter tapping at the icebox door -
I resolved to have some more.
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
'This,' said I, 'requires an extra dram of milk, my favorite pour.'
To the icebox I aspired, motivated to admire
How its avocado pigment complemented my decor.
Then I grasped its woodgrain handle - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams of Tuscans I had known before
But the light inside was broken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only words there spoken were my whispered words, 'No more!'
Coke and beer, some ketchup I set eyes on, and an apple core -
Merely this and nothing more.
Back toward the table turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
'Surely,' said I, 'surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'
From the window came a stirring, then, with an incessant purring,
Inside stepped a kitten; mannerlessly did she me ignore.
Not the least obeisance made she; not a minute stopped or stayed she;
But, with mien of lord or lady, withdrew to my dining floor -
Pounced upon the pool of Tuscan spreading o'er my dining floor -
Licked, and lapped, and supped some more.
Then this tiny cat beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grand enthusiasm of the countenance she wore,
Toward the mess she showed no pity, 'til I said, 'Well, hello, kitty!'
Sought she me with pretty eyes that seemed to open some rapport.
So I pleaded, 'Tell me, tell me what it is that you implore!'
Quoth the kitten, 'Get some more.'
---
tl;dr
You're missing out.Zitat:
Zitat von steel
Tut er.Zitat:
Zitat von Icetongue
Habe gerade gefrühstückt, deinen Post gelesen und der Tag fängt schonmal toll an :)
Ich warte bis es verfilmt wird.
lolZitat:
Zitat von steel
Anhang 15267Zitat:
Zitat von Kate
rübl!
Scheifpolarfuchf.
Viel zu lang. Da lese ich lieber deinen Post oben noch einmal ordentlich. DX
:AZitat:
Zitat von Icetongue
Kommt nicht ganz ans Original ran, aber ziemlich nice xD Einige Passagen passen da echt gut. Wo ist das her?
Was heisst "viel zu lang"? Der Link führt genau zu dem Zeitpunkt im Video an dem Supergreatfriend auf scherzhafte Weise einen typischen und sehr zweifelhaften Trend in Videoaufnahmen von schweren Spielen anspricht.Zitat:
Zitat von Kael
Das ist ein Amazon-Review von Edgar Allan Poe höchstpersönlich. Habe ich aus einem Thread in dem solch lustige Reviews gesammelt werden.Zitat:
Zitat von Aenarion
http://tindeck.com/image/gqlm/stats.png
:hehe: Alter, das hab ich ja schon total vergessen. Sollten wir mal wiederholen :A:A:A:A:A:A:A:A
Mmmmhhhh! So mad about vidyagames! Mmmmmhhhh so angry! >:(Zitat:
Zitat von Icetongue
Ey meine Schwester ist schwängerig - ich werd im März nächsten Jahres voll der schlimme Schlund-Onkel :A
Geil geil geil!
Oh shit oh fuck oh nein! Daran ist nur Ranmaru schuld!Zitat:
Zitat von BlackRose
Ey, das ist ohne Scheiss voll geil. Onkel Günther. Ich hoffe doch das Kind wird Olaf heissen. Geschlecht ist als Olaf ja eh völlig egal.Zitat:
Zitat von steel
Hab's ihr gerade vorgeschlagen. Schwester sagt Nein :(Zitat:
Zitat von Icetongue
Hab dann Günther vorgeschlagen - der wird eventuell als Zweitname in Erwägung gezogen :A
Du bist unmöglich :hehe:.Zitat:
Zitat von steel