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Post by Crowjunkie™ on Feb 14, 2009 0:06:13 GMT -5
 Just in case people don't know, it's for surfboards. |
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Post by Don Quixote on Feb 14, 2009 0:07:23 GMT -5
Hmm... I'd think you'd pick something that wasn't quite as... uhh... tacky on the dong for sexing.
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Post by Crowjunkie™ on Feb 14, 2009 0:09:48 GMT -5
After a good set of waves, you want something with "bite".
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Post by CBG on Feb 17, 2009 11:16:56 GMT -5
BITE ME!  |
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Post by Crowfan on Feb 17, 2009 21:13:04 GMT -5
I'll pass.
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Post by Don Quixote on Feb 17, 2009 21:56:42 GMT -5
Yeah, passing on that sounds like a sound idea. Good job, Crowfan.
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Post by (busdrivertohell) on Feb 18, 2009 3:09:07 GMT -5
Until it is properly cooked.
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Post by Crowfan on Feb 18, 2009 13:00:16 GMT -5
Well, back to cannibalism.
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Post by CBG on Feb 18, 2009 13:08:33 GMT -5
Yeah, passing on that sounds like a sound idea. Good job, Crowfan. Hell hath no fury like a DQ scorned. |
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Post by Ratso on Feb 21, 2013 12:06:03 GMT -5
BUMP
Earlier this month Mr. Molinaro's goldfish Wisconsin sadly died from a heroin overdose. Since this terrible tragedy Al has been understandably inconsolable and locked himself in Jim Morrison's tomb.
Because of these horrible events I have decided to skip Al Molinaro week this year. I am very sorry and hope all of you that bought the lion dung can get a decent refund.
- Ratso The Great.
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Post by Mitchell on Feb 21, 2013 21:31:24 GMT -5
Everything looked purple, odd magenta-violet shades that made me realize freebasing Excedrin was not my bag. Suddenly, pigs! Trayvon motioned over to the corner, where a pile of tattoo needles and dog hair were swirling in the breeze from the open window, like that bag video in American Beauty. The room smelt of barnyard sex. I ran out of Itch-X roughly the same time Netflix's streaming servers locked, and I mean locked hard.
I looked in the mirror and Groucho Marx looked back. Somebody whispered in my ear, asking me my thoughts on who should be the new Pope. I said Janet Jackson, but clearly, Richard Nixon was not amused.
We kept up the midnight feeding of baby peas. For some reason, this caused Orville Redenbacher to begin vomiting steamrollers. The rug was shag, the music lounge, and the atmosphere electric. The clock struck Tuesday and finally the pigs were gone.
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Post by Don Quixote on Feb 24, 2013 18:34:08 GMT -5
Gonzo Journalism: THE THREAD!
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Post by Afgncaap5 on Feb 25, 2013 16:18:10 GMT -5
While I'm sad that we won't get Al Molinaro Week, I'm a little relieved that, after seeing this thread's title, I haven't learned that Klop will be back.
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Post by mummifiedstalin on Feb 26, 2013 23:49:12 GMT -5
Everything looked purple, odd magenta-violet shades that made me realize freebasing Excedrin was not my bag. Suddenly, pigs! Trayvon motioned over to the corner, where a pile of tattoo needles and dog hair were swirling in the breeze from the open window, like that bag video in American Beauty. The room smelt of barnyard sex. I ran out of Itch-X roughly the same time Netflix's streaming servers locked, and I mean locked hard. I looked in the mirror and Groucho Marx looked back. Somebody whispered in my ear, asking me my thoughts on who should be the new Pope. I said Janet Jackson, but clearly, Richard Nixon was not amused. We kept up the midnight feeding of baby peas. For some reason, this caused Orville Redenbacher to begin vomiting steamrollers. The rug was shag, the music lounge, and the atmosphere electric. The clock struck Tuesday and finally the pigs were gone. Write your goddam novel, already! |
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