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Post by Don Quixote on Oct 7, 2005 9:18:15 GMT -5
It turns out there are quite a few hot women who drive big rigs.
I curse you with being unable to keep yourself from picking your nose at every occasion.
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Post by Mitchell on Oct 7, 2005 18:49:26 GMT -5
Better than picking my arse.
I curse you to believe it is true that there are quite a few hot women who drive big rigs.
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Post by Afgncaap5 on Oct 7, 2005 22:45:33 GMT -5
Okay...but since my life is not affected by my assumptions about big rigs or the size of the people who drive them, it's not really much of a curse, then, is it?
I curse you to live in the same house with Scrappy Doo for a year.
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Post by Mitchell on Oct 8, 2005 17:32:31 GMT -5
It will be roughly three days before I kill him, so I guess I have to live with the putrefying corpse for 12 straight months. . .still a more attractive prospect than Scrappy alive.
I curse you to have your laughter end and be replaced by screaming "bunghole bunghole bunghole" when you find the urge to laugh.
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Post by Don Quixote on Oct 10, 2005 3:09:07 GMT -5
I quickly find work at MTV as the host of a new hit comedy show.
I curse you to have an eagle chase you around trying to get you to change him back into an airplane.
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Post by Afgncaap5 on Oct 11, 2005 11:00:34 GMT -5
I lock him in the kitchen, then release him to the hall and lock myself in the kitchen and jump out the window to escape. What else would I do?
I curse a fish to fall on your head whenever you say the word "is."
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Post by Don Quixote on Oct 11, 2005 11:55:11 GMT -5
I become a millionare and the source of feeding the hungry.
I curse you with the curse of Charles Bronson. Charles Bronson will repeatedly come after in an attempt to avenge deaths in his family (i.e. the 'Death Wish' series).
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Post by Afgncaap5 on Oct 11, 2005 17:30:08 GMT -5
I turn this into a comical reality show by always being in a wacky location when Mr. Bronson comes to attack.
You are now cursed with a perpetual ice cream headache, that no amount of pressing-your-tongue-against-the-roof-of-your-mouth will ever solve!
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Post by Mitchell on Oct 11, 2005 17:50:14 GMT -5
Yet another entry into the pro- column under "Should I get a lobotomy?"
I curse you to impregnate Woody Allen.
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Post by Don Quixote on Oct 11, 2005 23:15:28 GMT -5
I am then taken by scientists and supermodels because my 'super sperm' can even enpregnate men! And by bearing a child, Woody learns a little sympathy for the12-year-old Asian girls he goes after.
I curse you to constantly hearing Lawrence Welk in your head.
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Post by Mitchell on Oct 12, 2005 7:47:46 GMT -5
I eat a shotgun: a-one, and a-two, and a-three. . .
I curse you to be filthier than Crenshaw.
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Post by Don Quixote on Oct 12, 2005 10:07:04 GMT -5
I gain a lucritive career of growing potatoes on various parts of my body.
I curse you to being trapped in time with only Mr. Peabody as your companion.
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Post by Afgncaap5 on Oct 12, 2005 11:34:58 GMT -5
Trapped in time? Sure you don't mean out of time? As it is, I'm trapped within the confines of time, the year is 2005. I make a mint off of the talking dog, even if his time machine is inexplicably on the fritz.
I curse your blood to taste like raspberry jam.
Yes, it's a curse. Don't question me! It's a curse!
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Post by Mitchell on Oct 12, 2005 17:41:20 GMT -5
I would no longer face arrest for "filling" the donuts at the donut shop.
I curse you to smell like a sumo wrestler's crotch garments.
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Post by Afgncaap5 on Oct 12, 2005 18:34:15 GMT -5
I invent a fascinating new deodorizer out of necessity, making a mint in the process.
I curse you to suddenly have your mind flooded with every film on MST3K, unMSTed, and condensed to about three seconds.
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