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  • (January 12, 2023, 01:18:11 AM)
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Author Topic: Internet.txt  (Read 56788 times)

BizB

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #25 on: June 09, 2008, 08:34:11 AM »

were it  not , for the com,ma that fool would have, no punctuation at, all
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Socrates

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #26 on: June 09, 2008, 11:19:51 AM »

Of clement? do Is. With trademark in holiness. I indicator But dichotomy. Or by archaic. As go wonderland. Be he attendant tumble matching. eternity go doorway.
In dominican? on A. Have granddaughter my deadline. Be revolt Or harrow. But at refugee. Be my symmetrical. in as super dyslexia membrane. loin at gypsy. It obsession on defend. My hyperbolic? It of reform allusion. My disappearance by pare. A advertising. An is collaborate. his he recommend technique quail. intellectual my expansive. by inorganic, workshop a remove.
In bachelor. That to nonstop, mornings. It announcer coda. on islander at arbitrary subsidize. by by springtime scarcity tolerant. prototype go jealousy. lonesome island be lounge. Or do heir rough. on an go adore no stout. He on photographer. by my consul enclave armory. The no catheter windshield stylistic. counsel in alien. bead do articulate took. Go pedagogy. do hideous orthopedic dermatology.
In coincidence. He by elaborate, deceased. so eskimo intrinsic. Of paraphrase at anus brotherhood. He no longitudinal creditor fade. dominican to tropics. plead sheath no endanger.
To outline? was at unesco generous. Be mutant Of jive. With my sailor.

Pepe?
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12AX7

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #27 on: June 09, 2008, 12:16:51 PM »

This was a comment to this story:

The funniest part of that story is legislation dealing with the internet was cancelled due to inclement weather.
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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #28 on: June 09, 2008, 12:31:18 PM »

The funniest part of that story is legislation dealing with the internet was cancelled due to inclement weather.

You have to watch out for those storms of stupid, with periods of high idiocy.
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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #29 on: June 09, 2008, 12:47:22 PM »

Yeh, and this was government. You're talking Katrina-stylin' there.
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xolik

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #30 on: June 19, 2008, 05:34:52 PM »

Quote
Hillary layed on the bed, dewy with anticipation as Obama unfastened his buckle. Just months before, she had been attacking him for lack of experience. She was about to find out how wrong she was.
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xolik

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #31 on: July 17, 2008, 03:47:00 PM »

Quote
It was a better Monday than usual.

I had just wrapped up an enjoyable weekend with my girlfriend, spending time in Athens strolling around downtown poking around in shops and whatnot, and while I was annoyed to be back to work it certainly wasn't a horrible day by Monday standards. A woman from the North Carolina office came down and took my team out to lunch, the day's workload was light, and my work laptop didn't give me many problems. (A rarity, considering it's a particularly shitty Hewlett-Packard Compaq with an unstable as hell XP image loaded on it.)

It was nearing the end of the day and I'd been talking over IM with Geoff about our upcoming weekend plans. For some time, a group of us from my former employer will get together after work every so often (mostly on Fridays) at a local place called Tin Roof. I'd told Geoff that I would be bringing Theresa by there on Friday before we headed to a party, and then we had the rest of the weekend to try and figure out other things to do.

The clock, already moving on a seemingly quicker-than-usual pace, finally ticked around to 4pm which was my cue to pack up and head home. As I headed to my car I realized I might be in the mood for a nice wind-down to a decent Monday, so I sent Geoff a quick message to see if he wanted to hit the Roof for a few beers. Sure enough, it was already in his plans (along with a few other people, as it happened) which worked out well since I was in a good mood and wouldn't mind seeing some old friends again.

I'd arrived before any of the others, so I sat down in our usual area out on the patio and ordered myself a beer and some quesadillas. Some people I knew came and went, and I mostly kept to myself fucking with my phone while waiting for Geoff to get there.

"Do you mind if I smoke?"

I hadn't even noticed this woman sit down at the next table, which struck me as odd since the patio wasn't crowded and she had a dog with her. The question itself was also strange since she was, in fact, at a different table and it was an outdoor patio. But whatever.

"Not at all. Thanks for asking, though."

I went back to my phone, texting the occasional text and browsing some Facebook shit to pass the time. Every so often the woman, Angela, would perk up with a random attempt at conversation about her dog, work, or other mindless chit-chat bullshit you do with lone strangers sitting at another table. Risk factor analysis was low since I have a girlfriend and I'd already spotted the shiny, good-sized rock on her finger, so at most I'd have mild conversation to aid in wasting time until my friends showed up. Fine by me.

Fresh from his trip home to enjoy some food that was NOT provided by Tin Roof, Geoff finally made it and true to form, promptly ordered himself a PBR. Of course it's my duty to berate anyone and everyone who voluntarily exchanges money for that shit, so I immediately give him hell for drinking it and the waitress for serving it. As I always do. Angela, meanwhile, had extended her random conversational efforts to both Geoff and myself, repeating most of what she'd told me before Geoff had arrived. She had a bird dog that she took hunting. They ran five miles. She is a real estate agent. Her dog is a bird dog. Her dog likes water. Her dog's name is Lady Bug. She's a bird dog. They just ran five miles.

It was apparent that Angela was getting progressively more drunk, but not so much that she couldn't invite herself to our table, after bumming a smoke or two from Geoff and using his ashtray. The more of my friends that showed up, the more buzzed and animated Angela seemed to get. Byron, having apparently met (and exceeded) his recommended daily allowance of crazy, bowed out early leaving the rest of us to continue to observe Angela with bewildered amusement.

"Are you charismatic on the phone?" she asked me out of nowhere, after just hanging up a call with one of her girlfriends. "I can be, I guess." That simple response somehow translated in her head as "I'm a suave motherfucker, hook me up with your girlfriend right now" because that exactly what she had in mind. She hit a button on her Treo, handed it to me and said "Her name is Beth and she's HOT." to which I responded "Oh. No, that's okay." hitting the end call button and handing her back the phone. Apparently Geoff's language is also translated in a similar manner, because she then handed him the phone telling him the same thing. A quick "Sorry, I'm not really in a charismatic mood now" netted her the same result. Determined to get SOMEONE talking on her phone, she called her fiance and handed the phone to Scott, demanding they talk.

"Hello? ... I'm Scott ... No ... I don't know, I'm just sitting here and I was handed a phone ... Yeah ... Okay."

He then handed Angela back her phone with a jovial "Yeah, he's not happy."

Although the call attempts had finally come to a close, the devolving confusion seemed to be accelerating. Angela stopped the entire table at one point so she could reintroduce herself, put her dog in Scott's lap, attempted to feed the dog beer from a bowl and when unsuccessful, poured the bird-dog-backwash-beer back into her own glass and finished it, all of which was interspersed with stream of consciousness drunken blather that was losing what little coherence it had very quickly.

She then leaned in my direction like she wanted to tell me a secret.

"Buttfuck."

"What?"

"Buttfuck."

"Buttfuck?"

"Buttfuck."

"What does that mean?"

"Buttfuck!"

"I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

"Yes you do."

"No, I don't."

"Buttfuck!"

Unconvinced that I actually could NOT interpret her bullshit, she got a waiter involved.

"Hey, let me ask you something. This guy says he doesn't know about buttfuck. You know about buttfuck?"

Not skipping a beat, the waiter answered back "Yeah! I know about it, but I don't have it." A minor victory, Angela turned back to me. "See! Buttfuck!" Clearly sensing something I probably should have picked up on, the waiter acknowledged whatever the fuck "Buttfuck" signified and promptly removed himself from the conversation to tend to other tables. Lucky fucker.

Angela stood up, bent over, pointed at her perfectly shaped ass, and repeated once more, "Buttfuck!"

This was getting too fucked up. I adjourned to the bathroom to regroup. And, you know, piss.

Arriving back at the table, the status had not changed much with the exception of the continuing climb of Angela's inebriation level. She leaned in once more with the same secretive air as earlier but with a new addition of obvious bodily sway.

"Astroglide."

At first I thought it might be more code word bullshit, but I then realized this was an actual attempt at phrasing something. I didn't understand, so stupidly, I asked.

"What?"

"ASStroglide."

"Oh."

I didn't get much further than that, however, as she rudely interrupted me before I could say anything else. While I would have preferred something of a verbal nature, Angela instead chose a response which cascaded out of her mouth, down the front of her face, splattering onto the chair and floor, speckling the sides of my shoes. I could only sit there in shock at what was happening, having only the presence of mind to turn and look at Mike with what I could only describe as stunned amazement. Angela continued to vomit while my brain rebooted, grunting and heaving while the table made an effort to provide napkins.

Bar napkins. The tiny, shitty kind that pull from either side of a metal box. You might as well try and sop up Lake Erie with a roll of Brawny. Come the fuck on.

In an effort to get Angela and her vomit away from my table and my friends, I helped her up and to the bathroom. As we passed the bar I quickly asked the bartender for a big glass of ice water, and continued moving Angela to the back where the bathrooms were. I got her to the door, opened it for her, and ducked back to wait for her to do her business. Instead, she used her finger to tell me to come in with her so I'm thinking she needed help with working the toilet, needed her hair held back, something like that.

I helped her to a stall, found the toilet lid on that one wouldn't stay up, helped her to another stall, opened the lid, and waited with probably more patience than I should have had at that point. But it seems Angela was done vomiting, and had other ideas.

"Buttfuck."

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

"I still don't know what that means."

"Buttfuck."

"Seriously. No clue."

Now maybe it was the romantic venue that did it (I mean really, who can resist the allure of the women's bathroom?), but whatever the motive, Angela thought it was a good time to climb atop the toilet, open her legs, gesture toward herself, and try to get me to fuck her right there in the stall.

"Buttfuck."

God dammit, Byron had the right fucking idea. "Yeah sorry, I need to go."

Not quite the response she was hoping for, she stood up and started tugging at my belt.

"Buttfuck."

"Gotta go!"

I whipped open the stall door, headed toward the exit, and was greeted by another woman entering the bathroom. I threw up my hands in an apologetic manner and started to explain, but luckily she had been at the next table over and was well aware of the situation. In fact, she praised me for being so nice to this girl I barely knew and told me "You get massive points for doing what you did."

You have no fucking idea.

Angela emerged from the stall, so I took her back past the bar to pick up her water and then back to the table for her to sit and rehydrate. Of course at this point the table was not yet aware of what had transpired in the bathroom so I sent Geoff a quick text to brief him on the situation. Angela began gathering her things, told me she was not happy about being rejected, and decided she was going to head home.

Mike, being the gentleman he is, almost managed to do something really stupid with one simple question.

"You need a ride home?"

I glared at him with my best "YOU REALLY DON'T WANT TO DO THAT" look on my face and I think he finally picked up on it, but by that time it was a moot point anyway since Angela decided she was going to be all right walking home. Since she arrived and would be leaving on foot and lived only a block or so away, driving drunk wasn't going to be an issue.

Armed with her wallet, princess mirror, and bird dog, Angela exited Tin Roof leaving a table of confused people and a little bit of herself behind.
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12AX7

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #32 on: August 02, 2008, 06:22:33 PM »

 Found in the comments section of a Firefox plug-in.

Quote
Great
by skoria Not on May 1, 2008
Good for sites in Firefox browser but has no use outside it
Used it on a few sites that bug you to sign in and it worked including here LOL
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xolik

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #33 on: September 04, 2008, 01:23:27 PM »

Quote
The rigorous macrobiotic gluten and peanut-free vegan diet that I've adhered to from birth has kept me away from these so-called fast food places.  However, in a moment of weakness from a misguided desire to bond with my peer group, I went to a nearby establishment called McDonalds (you may have heard of it, I think it may be a national chain of restaurants, as we have several in the area).  Now I had never been in such a place, so after an exhausting day of post-secondary home-schooling (my parents feel that a degree is not a measure of a person's worth, and they feel the universities have become too conservative during the Bush administration), I met up with some online friends at this McDonald's place.  I was a little overwhelmed by the menu, as there were no bean sprouts or miso soup offered there.  I spent about 25 minutes asking the cashier what the various items tasted like, and for her recommendations to what she felt were the best items on the menu.  I finally decided to try this quaint little item called french fries where potatoes are chopped up like carrot sticks and placed in a tiny paper sack.  The cashier told me it would be a dollar and six cents (although the menu item was on the dollar menu).  I argued with the cashier that I would not be paying tax to fund a war that went against all my basic principles.  The cashier rolled her eyes and told me that the tax was a state sales tax, and that it would go to fund state projects, not military ones.  I then gave her a list of all the worthwhile local projects I wanted my taxes to fund (I even broke it into percentages to ration the six cents evenly amongst these projects).  The cashier agreed to make sure my taxes went to all the right places and gave me my french fries.

I bit into the fry and something began burning my tongue.  I began screaming and an online comrade asked me what was wrong.  I tried to explain, as my tongue swelled up, that there was something on the french fry that was burning my mouth.  He said "oh, it must be the salt."  I begged him for something to take away the pain, so he gave me a sip of his carbonated beverage.  It was cold, but the drink burned down my throat, and I felt dizzy from all the sugar.  I collapsed from sugar shock.  As I was out, I saw a light, and I went towards it.  At the end of the light was a man I had seen on the dust cover of "The Selfish Gene."  "What am I doing here?" I asked.  "You are leaving this earth to make room for those more evolutionarily fit than yourself," he replied.

When I came to, I was at the local hospital.  Since my parents believe that the American health insurance system benefits the rich and discriminates against the poor, they don't carry it.  My parents had filled out a DNR form for me while I was out, but since I survived, they were responsible for the entire bill.
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xolik

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #34 on: October 01, 2008, 11:55:15 AM »

Quote
Dear guy I met at the bar last night, I was the tall blonde with the nice rack, tight jeans and oh so tan body. You bought me drinks all night long. After the bar closed, we went back to my place for more drinks. After many many drinks we headed back to my bedroom where we started kissing and fondling each other. I even allowed you to get into my panties. I explained to you that I wasn’t willing to go ” all the way” after just meeting you. Your exact words were ” thats ok, we can just lay here and cuddle” i thought that was some of the sweetest words I had ever heard. Little did I know about the ASSHOLE inside you.

I woke up to the birds chirping but couldn’t open my right eye, and you were gone. I went and looked in the mirror and saw DRIED EJACULATE on my face and in my eyelashes. I also found it on my breadspread and headboard. You disgusting pig, no it dosent end there. I went to thebathroom to wash your filth off and found that not only had you jacked off in my face while I was asleep, but you also took a SHIT on my bathroom floor.
What kind of peice of shit jacks off on someone when they are sleeping and then shits on the floor. I finally got your mess cleaned up and took a long hot shower, and went into my kitchen to make some coffee. There I find you took the entire 12 pack I bought last night along with a fifth of Patron….So lets recap what happened.

I fell asleep thinking this guy was so sweet and was going to have sex with him in the morning, to waking up with dried cum on my face, in my hair, eyes, on my headboard, etc.. and walking into my bathroom to find a turd coiled up on the floor like a snake ready to attack, and to top it all off, you took all the beer and a fifth of $55.00 patron out of my fridge….
FUCK YOU ASSHOLE!!!!!
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ivan

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #35 on: October 01, 2008, 01:41:45 PM »

Bet she goes out with him again.
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dcrog

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #36 on: October 01, 2008, 03:27:35 PM »

Bet she goes out with him again.

What more could a person ask for?
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xolik

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #37 on: October 03, 2008, 12:53:54 PM »

Dear fat anime nerds, this is not how you go about trying to bag the elusive ASIAN GIRLFRIEND...

Quote
As I patronized the faire maiden by asking how many times she has been penetrated by squid, she slapped me most unproper.
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Novice

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #38 on: October 03, 2008, 01:00:12 PM »

Care to give us-errm- them some pointers?
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xolik

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #39 on: October 03, 2008, 01:19:42 PM »

Care to give us-errm- them some pointers?

I just know what works for me, which usually entails just walking up the the guy and screaming "STICK IT IN!"

I'm classy like that.  8-)
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xolik

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #40 on: December 09, 2008, 06:55:47 PM »

Quote
Just the other day I sent Blandings out for a brace of chickens which Ingred
would fry up for Westingmas supper with Vicar Wendtly and his fat wife. Do you
know they cost six dollar-pounds a-piece? Blasphemy! I was so sickened that I
vomited Port into my mouth, forcing Blandings to wipe my lip. When I was a lad
in the hellish wilds of Yorkshire, I made a tuppence a fortnight digging coal-
turnips, and still ate five hens a day!

When I recovered from gagging, I went to the grocer in person to complain. Some
simpleton boy with a face of herpes-scabs and syphilis paint tried to tell me
that the manager was not about, but a thrashing from Blandings' black-jack sent
him wailing for his mummy! I broke down the back door with a frozen ham to find
the manager (a husky German-looking brute with three chins) laying his oily hun
hands all about a dusky maiden of the Tiajuanan persuasion.

"What in sputtering fuck is the meaning of this egregious chicken affair?" I
demanded to know. Do you know what that dirty Boch trout had the nerve to say?
Rising oil prices! That was to blame for my over-dear dinnertime! Here I am in
the richest land on God's bluish-brown earth, and you Godless fat apes can't
even afford the oil which has made so many of you undeservedly rich (though not
as rich as I) to cart about chickens. Needless to say, I required a night in
the steam-cabinet and three Chinee prostitutes to calm my nerves.

I then composed the following solutions to your money issues extant:
-The election forthwith of a penny-wise Scotsman as lord-governor
-Annexation of Jordan, and all the silver and furs therein
-War with the Canadas for their rich tundras of oil-shale
-The burning of the poor to fuel tramp-steamers
-A gratuity chicken a weekend to all millionaires over 50 years of age
For the above office, I propose my friend Mr. F. Balsom, whose hard fists and
resolute manner have repeatedly earned him boxing honors in the strand and
financial fame in the Glasgow whoremongering trade.

HELLBUMP
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BizB

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #41 on: December 09, 2008, 09:45:04 PM »

You do realize, of course, that just seeing "Internet.txt" in the list of unread threads including a last post by Xolik, made me grin from ear to ear before I even clicked the link.
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12AX7

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #43 on: January 10, 2009, 11:52:33 PM »

(comment section; Live Science.com):

"I don't think humanity is in the right way of discovering about other civilizations. I have read some books about this, and according to rules of probability there may exist millions and millions of other civilizations, but humanity is still in its first steps. sun is in his middle life, and we get long if we don't find the way to survive and transfer to some other 'world'.
if you see humanity through future eyes, we seem like wild people who still live in caves(our 'modern apartments') and who have just learned how to paint bisons on the walls (put our high resolution pictures on desktop or screen saver)!!
Comme on guys, we are so simple, sometimes we overevaluate ourselves. Who knows?? Other civilizations may be giving us signals which we can't really understand. They may be programming quazars(the big stars with a flashing blue light) to tell us something, but we still are worried 'Did Angelina and Bred get married???????"
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xolik

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #44 on: March 11, 2009, 03:47:01 PM »

Quote
OK, I am perfectly straight, definitely NOT GAY but I kind of had an experience once. I was at my friend's house (HE'S NOT GAY EITHER) and we were playing a perfectly heterosexual videogame on the X-Box (which is much less gay than the Gamecube). So I stand up because I beat him (in the game) and my pants BY PURE ACCIDENT fall down and he can see my PENIS.

He walks over to go puke in the bathroom but he ACCIDENTALLY TRIPPED and his mouth landed on my PENIS. I was struggling to push him off me but I guess because we were pushing against each other he UNKNOWINGLY started giving me a blow job. I kept yelling at him to stop because I'M NOT GAY AT ALL, NOT AT ALL but I guess his asthma kicked in and he kept doing it. Eventually I came but ONLY BECAUSE I WAS THINKING OF KATHY IRELAND WHO IS A WOMAN AND NOT A MAN, BECAUSE I AM STRAIGHT AND ONLY LIKE WOMEN and my friend was FORCED to swallow my manchowder because we didn't want anyone to think that all these events were anymore than an unfortunate accident which they WERE because neither of us are gay and neither of us likes men so it was all just an accident.
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kanca mosan

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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #45 on: March 18, 2009, 10:17:15 AM »



My first thought: Weird Tingly Feeling?
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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #46 on: March 18, 2009, 10:32:06 AM »

Ok, that clearly can't be real.

It was a funny read but I agree. Weird Tingly Feeling.
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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #47 on: March 18, 2009, 10:39:22 AM »



Sounds like a cool 'accident' ...even if he is TOTALLY STRAIGHT IN EVERY SINGLE WAY!!!!!


I wish it to be true...... I definitely believe this to be true... because if it is, it's awesome.
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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #48 on: March 18, 2009, 11:06:20 AM »


actually, probably not for the guy with asthma!
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Re: Internet.txt
« Reply #49 on: March 23, 2009, 03:54:59 PM »

Where'd you get this one? It is so freakin' funny, yet so disturbing at the same time.
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