Jump to content
Dillon Levenque

A Derail Thread

Recommended Posts

14 minutes ago, Rolig Loon said:

Shaanti.

The only time we say that is the “food prayer”! ..and the food offering part of puja.

Om Brahmar-panam, Brahma-havir

Brahmagnau, Brahmana hutam

Brahmaiva-taina gahnta-vyam

Brahmakarma samadhina

Hari Om, tat sat (3x)

Om, Brahmar-panamastu Om

Shanti, Shanti, Shanti

Edited by Love Zhaoying
  • Thanks 2

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
3 minutes ago, Rolig Loon said:

My mistake. It is lunchtime and I am only barely literate in the correct words.

No mistake, some may use it all day! See above, edited.

  • Like 1

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

I just followed a bunch of y’all, you lucky, lucky people. :x

*Edit* ? ‘Cause I don’t want to miss a thing! ?

B727C68A-EE29-468E-B9F2-380D048CCBFA.jpeg

Edited by Love Zhaoying
  • Like 1

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

I was considering putting the compilation - to date - of the Sentient Thread in the "Yo, don't pick on people who dun speak English" thread...

But it's better here.

(don't read, it will make your head hurt)

Once upon a time, A fella revived the forums by starting a possibly fun game. The residents were wary but so bored they played anyway. Maddy brought along the fire.

You had me at "Hello." but there was no reply. Patiently I waited, hoping that something momentously exotic would happen. But all that happened was the high-res textures stayed grey. 

Disillusioned I turned and saw Five jellydolls coming my way. When they noticed me, they said "oh no" and ran away, leaving me to ponder were they a boy band? and did they sing anything from Tommy's Spice Girls CD, which he kept in his hidden, super secret, time capsule only to be opened when the prims and music die.

I started to search and got a media plugin error so I confronted the creator who promptly replaced it, but increased land impact by 200 but this is a perk that will make ya Bonafide And smile a mile wide. 

Therefore, it is time to execute the infamous Plan B. Armed with the popgun I peered out into dense fog. Not sensing any danger, I march forward, only to discover angry glytches beneath the grasses. I had seen this before during my years in the the freebie malls of second life, too noob to care. I took aim at the critter and fired. However, it laughed and then quickly transformed into a Linden who then ran off to work on more exciting new perks for premium members. Unfortunately those perks were deemed too enticing for most users who left quickly and thus never learned of the wonders hidden in SL.

The OP sat, pondering what will come next, when suddenly we all got massive cooties, giant, hairy Animesh cooties that grazed on sculpties and wore so much bling that they wondered what they were doing dressed in mauve evening gowns with diamonds draped from their naughty bits all so cleverly that nobody even noticed them.

And then the condom broke, and like a dam breaking,  9 months later out popped Baby Che, shouting "Viva PRIMS!".


Suddenly, the ground began to erupt with flaming, furry chickens - KFC went bankrupt almost overnight and Colonel Sanders wept bitterly large tears of herbs/spices filling bucket after bucket, and do you want fries with that? It's finger lickin' good but the recipe is secret, Maddie sets it on fire resulting in charred chicken lips which gave Sanders an idea to offer socialized medicine to the hairy blingy animesh cooties lagging sim events with blatant flouting of Terms of Service which most don't read anyway because the hairless rabbit griefers are easily distracted by carrots and carrots usually make them poop all over my lawn just like my mainland neighbors; The SLardashians, a family of  Catwa Bimbos from Planet Cellulite orbiting a star made of fashion events, gacha fairs and Strawberry Stilton flavoured edible panties packed inside a delivery hud by sumo wrestlers with delicate sensibilities regarding color and texture so they wear mawashis of rhinestone-studded burlap and flamingo feathers attached to tortured prims that suddenly turned into animesh, bouncing until they crashed the sim, releasing waves of orange marmalade.
When it was FINALLY restored by forensic archeologists with plywood only one survivor was found wearing an orange sports bra. It was Maddie holding a...

Wait...is that a flamethrower?

No, an avocado filled donut with heavenly strawberry vanilla frosting who was secretly camming on that reprobate Snugs who was alert enough to catch Whirly trying to steal Maddy's donut and replace it with scrambled eggofu sprinkled liberally with spicy pepper and dog biscuit crumbs, which is Snug's favorite topping.

Look out everyone!  Rampaging robot turning off the asset server and onto a dirt road.

Maddy launches the donut, her serene visage clouded by hyperglycemic shock and dog biscuit crumbs.

A passerby stopped and asked "Pardon me, do you have an avocado donut, by chance?"

The rampaging robot spun wildy, fizzling donut covering its receptors screaming "Out Of Cheese Error!" And spewing grease globs hysterically.

Maddy giggled with evil glee shouting "In your face, Torquemada!".

Oh, but torque is cheap with a chinese alligator wrench. But wrenching alligators incites PETA to launch a Tofu attack. 
The resulting checkmate precipitated a cascade of stinging, flaming particles visible from the neighbouring sim Each, when colliding with anything caused more media plugin errors eliciting howls of "Fake News!"

Then suddenly, a quiet fell. Someone was heard softly whispering as it snowed in hell on a Hollywood mogul’s libido which was actually quite unimpressive especially after it became news that Trump read on Twitter about shiny prim made genitals because his was itty bitty like his itty bitty hands and his itty bitty skills and itty bitty bento attachments and his GIANT flexi ego.

He was SO shocked that he wanted a wall built, someone bought a parcel there surrounded in Madland privacy shields. He grabbed the shields by the jagged edges, doing whatever he could to make them inactive and was sad, so sad, his tears made a moat in which swam halite alligators renowned as orthodontists and cobblers and who are probably misconstrued, much to their dismay, and made more people leave secondlife.

"I am over this thread" Panatropica thought to her self while singing opera on her toilet.  Then her phone rang.

"This is threadware® calling. We call at the worst times, the polyester knitted outfit you gifted to Ebbe, has burst"

"All lies!" I yelled out. But my allies had fled.

When dawn finally arrived, orange floating text blocked out the naughty bits of the giant stone monsters on adult sims. This disturbed those with a delicate digestive system and so the avacado donuts came out, looking less appetizing than before.

However, after adding blingy sprinkles, and with particles streaming out they looked less like donuts and more like onion rings, though they smelled more like victory, with an aftertaste of four day old anchovy pizza and absolute soul crushing defeat.

Responding quickly, an opposing force (-1 times mass times acceleration) and one very enraged chicken raised their flag and proceeded, like lemmings at a rave, to a sleazy strip club of male dancers covered in female patrons who were busily pasting sequins on their tights, trying to control their physics jiggling like kid's party jello shots, though more legal... unless you don't count the vodka.

Suddenly, a flying monkey crashed through a window, causing Iva to quite calmly reach for the vodka. Then she leaped onstage, grabbing the dance pole and EVERYONE stopped to watch as she seductively started removing money from willing wallets, amassing a fortune in Zimbabwean dollars spent on Giant Beaver repellant.

Then, PETA, and the IRS rearranged themselves to form PARTIES! which really weren't any fun until someone showed up with Pentothal lollipops, Twister and ten signed copies of Jitterbug Perfume which, for safety, were put in the staff room fridge where Lindal kept her pizza.
It didn't take long before the pizza and the lollipops began a strange dance together... Nine months later, they named Maddy their Evil Overlord and Understudy, for she's not the leader of the chosen ones whose legs are on backwards.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, it was a dark and silly night and we were playing spin the bottle with Phillip Linden and Jack Bauer. The candle flames were wavering, while further out, in darkness three hundred and thirteen hipsters with brightly sequined hula hoops tried cramming into Donald's car (Haha! Hopeful, hooping, hipster hippies!) only to discover that all hulas are ruled by Sauron and Sauron doesn't understand hoopla.
What he DOES understand is combat, and only combat, without blingy particles or edible panties and he is not very nice to people who wear Inedible panties - not at all.

Those kind of people make evil tyrants look like fuzzy underwear eating, particle blinging puffs. 

When artificial flavorings were found they were purged with fire! and Cheese Whizz, American Style!

"What? No CoolWhip?" she asked. 

Causing Maddy to pull out which, of course, resulted in more CoolWhip for everyone else.

Breathing Coolwhip gas is fun! They wandered off, woozy and wearing signs “Caution: Unpredictable Behavior”. 

Iva tripped over Love's enormous fidget spinner that was used in an illegal cage match but, this particular cage match was legalised by Linden Lab but only under specific circumstances the first of which was "You do not talk about your mother-in-law, pictured only in...

...sorry, can't talk about her."

So let's talk about when and where the party is going to be raided by tiny, fluffy kittens wearing adorable but somewhat sparkly rainbow colored and embarrassingly smelly pieces of puce tulle, sewn together with scrotum hair and pocket lint.

Thus began "Levi's 69s", inspiring yet awkward positioning of their Breast mounted anti aircraft cannons that fired randomly at passing clueless noobs with long dangling participles. English majors hate them because they're jealous of how participles get all the action because they're so well hung with medals the Majors want to have hanging from themselves to impress the other majors and, of course, the colonels. But not the generals, because they generally, dislike the Generals for losing to the Globetrotters.

This is becoming very silly, but it started that way, then went downhill very fast, until reaching a sharp turn somewhere near the avocado donuts. Oh, boy. I love donuts. But donuts can be fattening. These are also nice  donuts. But those smell of rubber. so do the avocado ones.
Madelaine, the globetrotters always win games with the lonely Generals only when wearing rubber suits Just in case they spilled Root beer on their basketballs which were now so sticky, girls won't play with them even though the boys will gladly immerse themselves in the library paste and motor oil providing slippery yet sticky fun just like K-Y and honey! Who're touring with Elvis Costello, not to be confused with Abbot and Costello, comedy duo or figure skater Elvis Stojko best known for his fascinating impersonations of footballer Elvis Abbruscato and Henry "Velvet" Elvis Washington. Called "velvet" because of his...

(wouldn't you like to know)
[ TOP SECRET. Burn before reading! ]
Squinting with ashen fingertips, everybody trudged back to the story...

Tentacle  monsters.  Tentacle  monsters everywhere!" screamed "Armoured Space Panties" wearers.

"Fear not!", cried the Hero, "How long will this last?" 

Checking with the developers, "Soon™" the developers replied when asked "It works on my machine", so there is no problem and there is no spoon don't worry about that vase.

At that very moment, Ringo totally missed the Matrix reference which LSL doesn't support, because, well, LSL doesn't do matrices. But there are awesome mattresses! Upon which mistresses, waitresses, and mistresses practice multiplying linear vertices. Submissives tied up in knots with colic, like sick horses, at least not horse farts.

Fortunately, Torley was there to reduce everything to two colors. So, pick two .... any two.

Refusing to share their specs the engineers decided instead to play cards in the caboose with Liam the Alaskan moose. 

"Zeus! A loose moose in my produce juice," shouted Bruce "No! A puce moose in search of a loose mousse while sluicing for golden goose"
"A chartreuse goose? That's obtuse." Said Ferret from the bleachers who was trying to seduce the Deuce-Coupe Troup's super-sized thirty stone belly dancer who couldn't spell 'troupe' either because they never learned how. Like How Now Brown Cow?

Brown Cow, hearing her name, transformed into a beautiful faerie wearing a purple and pink tommygun for shooting at the Las Vegas themed Christmas lights but there were no bullets, "peace on earth," they said while Marvin lit the fuse "but don't urinate on Uranus."

Uranus is really for.....ummmm our forum, because we're all extra geeky, space and science fanatics, merrily spinning quaternions on Pro DJ Twin Record Turntables, paying the required licence fee, wondering why no combat forum. Ganks noobs to PK them as Panda flavoured field rations would tear your face off.

(Narrator eats shoots and leaves.)
Just ignore and let this... 
"No!"  Narrator scrambles back to file their finger nails quietly "I know where you sleep."

Narrator came back, now eating an avocado filled doughnut and lead to heartburn and violent intestinal discomfort. Run to bathroom. AvSitter button one or two? Too late!  Mop and bucket. "Rez failure". Bad mesh houses even worse scripts. But that never demoralizes people with flashy bling shoes on their feet or blingy jewelry attached to exotic conga dancers in skin.

Didn't Ricky Ricardo sing Babaloo?

Lola a showgirl at Copacabana slowly pulled the pin from her Harvey Weinstein voodoo doll and watched it start smoking pot, in defiance of all fire regulations, but a girl needs a man like a a fish needs a bike. When you're tryin' to throw up last night's anchovy pizza to a woman dangling from the fragile precipice of reason, have a safety net ready to catch some more fish and kiss with duck lips.

Mesh head trout pout bimbos run screaming from the terrible net neutrality breaking FCC head its gnarly hands outstretched towards the populist that depends on avocado donuts with chocolate fudge for a cup-a-soup recipe idea enjoyed by Trump watching Fox wondering what the fox says when it needs a hug. 

It begs like a puppy but hangs with the chickens who come home to roost but not to be roasted with the chestnuts.  Instead, they are sauteed with olive oil who was infatuated with Popeye and his enormous Spinach Can's Spicy Chicken and Cajun Fries. Now we all be eatin 

*Sorry, Reel Missing. Management Apologies*

The next one plays backwards masking made famous by Beatles. "Turn me on, dead man" cried the Blue Meanie, Max - waking suddenly from a nightmare involving Lederhosen and sour cream in his pockets and rancid milk, left out all week.

Worse still, Conifer had placed donuts on a prim horse thinking the horse preferred glazed eyes drinking cartons of Sauerkrautsaft.

Then, something really weird happened. We mean really, really weird ... weirder than an honest politician... a red egg, found in Prok's Pirate Chicken Airship the band settled on Jefferson Airplane. 

The top of this airplane was, alarmingly, below its bottom causing wing walkers to vomit, deciding a better career is that of a stunt pilot or professional after dinner speaker. Speaking at dinners, a competitive job, where ranking counts for shaking hands and kissing babies NOT the other way around! 
When wet handed parents attack! Professional after dinner speakers wipe spilt food off their jackets thrown by the angry listeners at baby shaking guest speakers forgetting that babies spit up ome type of protein mass. 

"Codswallop" ruminated the waiting ikizukuri

"Wrong story" shouted the guests. 
"Have a happy christmas everyone!"
"Any more avocado filled donuts?"
OH YUK! Kathyparnes1 yelled furiously.

Shaking babies? Check the physics *slowly opens baby shaking manual* and saw pictures like this.

Chapter one:: "Introduction to babies"
Babies are small...so small you can fit them in a comfy sock drawer bassinette if you unbox them first and torture twist their prim and proper parents, you can drag the corner boxes, but then pin them tightly, because jittery hands could send them to the moon, Alice! So they're bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy fun, fun, fun, fun, fun at the annual tiggers picnic.

NOT the teddy bears picnic because the ants ate the food from Yogi Bear's basket while he was getting busy with the park ranger's daughter. She had the biggest, bounciest  bunny rabbits in the world castle in the whole world.

"Don't be silly. Bunny castles?"
"Yes," she said, "bunny castles... 
"Ah, zut! Quel bunny idee! pourrait fonctionner, floppy eared dungeons"
Looking confused, searches for translator "Dang, this translator's broken again!"

Sven, the translator, sighs heavily and ate his raw herring Uppmana, Sven. Det är kaffetid. Caffeine addled translation is responsible for Klingons speaking like Ferengi.

Exasperated and (despite caffeine) exhausted, I turn back to the TARDIS and contemplate "where now?". Set it to random and put pennies on your eyelids -- that sage advice I recall -- as if from some distant future I have visited, but forgot to take photos of, to prove I'm not nutty. 

As if anyone would believe that the future really does loop back to the past.

As if anyone would believe that the future really does include Bill Murray and rodents and naturally, a DeLorean DMC-12 powered by Lab server hamsters Like the one pictured below when it is properly tuned, it will reach enormous speeds while fertilizing the house plants which turn into anatiferous trees, eventually blanketing Earth with a mess of tarred downy feathers which are all smelling like wet dog and spoiled ham. For the vegetarians among us are tasty with fava beans and a nice light Chianti, or a nice, heavy Lambrusco.

But sailors, too salty to serve without a honey glaze unless you prefer them smoked over Washington's Cherry Tree Chippings which gives a woody flavor (not that kind of wood unless you’re a “splinter pr*ck”)

(parentheses?...is this off record? or don't ask don't tell?)

Suddenly Ivanova Shostakovich shouted out "Chocolate Vodka rules the World!" careening around the corner in  her perfectly tanned birthday suit of the finest Yak leather "smoked? Sailors should be pickled!" tooting tunes on a Sax Fifth Avenue clerk's tummy, which "Choclate voka ruules the whorll!"

Those around stop to consider whether or not Ivanova shares knowledge of her torrid relationship with tree-diving manatees in Florida's secret lust-pit of sin called Popeyes House Of Happy Stuff and aromatic organic chicken by-products and essential oils scenting the lovingly prepared and embalmed corpse wrapped in the pages of Fish and chips serving newspaper trumpeting headlines of Whitehouse books stacked so high they topple daily, like third world governments. Sighs... and carefully begins to extract lint from a navel orange, found under the bed, coated with sticky dust bunnies, demanding fluffy orange dust carrots to snort instead of the cat box sweepings left from Schrödinger's weird experiments with octopuses.

September's pussies had been relatively calm all in that contraption forgetting all about the babies safe in their little cradles of yarn looped around fingers of the buddha's hand, dangling participles, like dewlaps on aging similes, comforting us with their gentle smiles and motherly murmurings alliterative allusions  (insipid insights?) or metaphorical meanderings, but enough of their craziness.  We should be attending to our aging auntie's birthday party. She's a blast furnace repair technician for the femur relocation institute of technology, which gets a leg up on any android you can disable with an EMP grenade or a glass of saline.

Add "T", you have saltine, which are great with soup if it's served hot enough or chilled vichyssoise with bacon flavored edible sporks. Meanwhile, on the topic of food, President Richard Nixon once declared kimchi his personal "masseuse", a euphemism for "rumpy-pumpy" back in 1970 (a little known hysterical fact) He kept a diary about this but erased the tapes when Rosemary Woods tripped over Nixon's copy of "Alice's Restaurant".

I don't want a pickle. I just wanna ride on a drunken horse, merrily singing "My father was the keeper of large barnacles and pearls before swine was considered haute couture and was still just bas relief, pigs having socially advanced since reading George Orwell bedtime stories, which gave him a serious aversion to pork.

That's why G. Gordon Liddy did not convert to Islam for the cuisine, but for tax reasons. Unfortunately, there were those details his man-servant forgot like him being friends with the salty pickled sailors from everywhere. All sailors are salty and crusty, like that ol' Popeye and also quite frequently pickled cabbage for it's Sauerkraut juice. Served with chocolate ice cream, makes for a disgusting float.

Duly, the crew heaved ho... (with carrot bits) and set sail for the end of the world, where the alleged restaurant was closed. ("Alleged" being a euphemism for crack house). Where the sailors forced the crack wide and ate with a runcible spoon basically making the crack useless.
"Methinks I hear voices!" said Rasputin, lurking in the shadows.

Meanwhile, the source of the chronic and severe abdominal pain left town on a rail. He rode his railroad unicycle, like a clown, he was and like Yoda he speaking about the historical romance of Maddy's old stale avacado donuts being charred by her favorite flaming fire of firey flames!

Time waited, pregnant with the demonic offspring of Procrastination, who was hoping for early snowfall.

Did someone just mention manatees? Or other tree dwelling mammals like squirrels, who heard Rhonda's story about the lost treasure, but I found Clover again. Planted face first in catnip, mewing softly as she slept through the alarm, four phone bills went unpaid for months.

Then, finally, her landlord said, "Enough already with the shipments knows Bell Epoch from BelAmi brothers, who sang country songs accompanied on autoharp and bassoon employed by 7-11 to repel those peskey repo-men wannabes who walk around in women's underwear and try to steal slurpees which are hard to fence.

'en garde' she called out and confusingly pointed her pistol packing Mama towards the approaching invading hoards of flannel wearing ironing boards, teetering wildly on pink twisted pipe cleaner legs modelled like Florida lawn flamingos. But curiously, the ironing boards unfolded themselves and started to loudly sing a show tune from "Dames", infuriating people in the first row, because they thought they had Dokken tickets.

Aislin unbuttoned her shirt revealing an embroidered pink paisley "S" curved tattoo down the middle not beautiful, nor a taint, close your eyes, don't faint or one might find themselves or maybe herself or itself up to your arse in Novosibirsk, eating borscht popsicles with equally frozen friends, who wonder why they can't follow this. The rules are quite simple: divide every even prime number by the number of holes in the large red colandar...

"Wait!  Every even prime number?"
...Yes, every one of it then it multiply by pi and keep a washcloth handy in case of premature exponentiation.

Nods sagely. "Yes, of course. never happened before, I swear Mom, I was doing homework reconstructing what the dog ate from my Ogden Nash book.
Rolig also barks backwards, because she's barking up the wrong palindrome. Step on no pets since, Madam, I am Adam, No WAY!  A papaya won!
Bob. (sigh) I got nuthin'. Or did you mean boob?

For sale. baby shoes. Uunused. Because Hemingway was born wearing nipple clamps and a beard. and then I went shopping
OVERLOAD! SHUT IT DOWN, TEX! 
Oh no! The meta-level's back!
door's open and the meme's achieved a low level sentience.
"Overload???"  Looks nervous.  "Not overdrive?"
"Nope. Overdrive's out of whack."

In desperation, they tried Geritol which really got things going until they hit a magnet of which was very attractive (ta da boom, tish ding)
"WHAT happened to my shirt?" is not something to ask a stern nun in habit. Instead, you should ask if your buttons unbuttoned themselves? I love when that happens :-)

The nun may fly away, we'll be nun the wiser, taking off from Sally Field south of Wright Brothers field. North is the Wrong Brothers -- Wrong, Wrong Again, Still Wrong until you put your right foot in, you put your money where your mouth is.

Meanwhile, gridsurvey.com hasn't been updated with AOL's new Instant Messenger. You have mail, or female, or Hotmail’s a hot male, not quite a hot tamale more likely a hot mess, requiring some care when taking cats to Cats the musical lest they attempt singing showtunes blindfold and without a net neutrality agreement.  

Also, some cats up and mustard is enough to disguise any hot dog lying on a Belize beach thinking "can I be extradited?" Maybe even obtain sanctuary for some neglected and abused wildlife are better off as pets don't forget, lock their collar, stays in with Liquid Stitch™. But use the serger for the bows with the bells for the beaux and belles or belle of beaux balls beautifully beguiled by bronzed boyfriends who curiously couldn't catch cupid  even with their very large...

Oh look! There's a squirrel! Its nuts are so huge! Ohhhh so very very big... You just won't believe how wild and crazy this thread grew after it became sentient, inciting forumites to grab shovels, torches and pitchforks and then march to Dr Frankensteeen's castle, grabbing flamethrowers on the way.

Wait, Maddy brought extra ones?
Plus some for the kids.

Warning: Product may contain nut and be hazardous to many DoH!nut holes that were lonely Saying, “Eat me! Eat me!” So Alice gobbled them down long with a thick, black friend she was teaching to play strip tiddlywinks at the Piggly Wiggly in Opelousas Louisiana.

They'd been banned before from painting the avocado donut holes with wasabi paste and bacon when kielbasa and horseradish weren't on sale.  Alice knew that prim horses weren't actually real but wasn't sure about mesh private parts that glowed brightly to guide sailors home from their drunken kielbasa brawls with imaginary prim unicorns and eels riding around in Lithuanian hovercraft.

Meanwhile, i'm watching a movie starring Frau Blücher, a stallion, and a bug eyed hunchback played by wonderful Marty Feldman.

Suddenly, Alice remembered her ferret was auditioning for a role in the new Chipmunks movie and hadn't rehearsed her lines -- she was too busy dreaming that she was a muskrat named Susie in love with that new nutria who moved in mysterious ways.  However Alice was determined this time not to let her ferret fail so she stuffed her handbag with pink erasers and skunk-like furry striped scarves for a trip to the studio where Harvey Weinstein waited expectantly. 

“Every story, Harvey, has a finger in the pie, but a hand in the bush earns scorn in the news."

The ferret practiced those lines so determinedly, so fervently, that it didn't notice the bus intentionally aimed directly at Harvey driven by a flamethrower toting cookbook wielding, saucepan shielding, ignorant Maddie, who was furious after incinerating breakfast accidentally three times. Aiming the flamethrower at the ugly head of Harvey Weinstein seeing the freebee prim hair that would ignite so easily!

"Oxygen in use. No smoking" was readable on the sign before it burst into flame. Right on cue, the firemen exit left, pursued by a angry mob with pitchforks and ferrets wielding pencils as spears. 

Those pickle spears are deadly unless you've been voice verified by a trustworthy pickle owner. Rather than a dill pickle. which are yummy on burgers But terrible on maddie's donuts unless deep fried first and rolled in brown sugar and replaced with a milk shake.

These culinary musings were interrupted by heartburn at 3:00 AM followed by bountiful botttom burping around a really large campfire.

"Who crapped on a buzzard?" Mongo wondered. He took another swig of Diet Pepsi and choked on it, after seeing that it was still alive. It was grinning up at them all and it gurgled sorta like a death rattle, not to be confused with a rattlesnake and he said "That's the bottom line, cause I am just a pawn in months without an R" Hedley Lamarr made that rule and now Mongo very sad." 

Where are all the white She asked, giving side-eye Pete a wide berth because sleeping in a narrow berth was a ferret known as 'Bad news Betty', amongst friends. Suddenly,  Pete "Psychotïts" Whohowlski jumped, waking Betty, whose mood was showing on her Mood Ring. It wasn't pretty, that ring. Bringing back memories of teenager Michael Landon trying to shave two bucks off the price of some designer Angel wings which, in actuality, were cheap Filipino knock-offs made from vinyl on a flimsy wire frame. 

Ctrl-shift-r exposed some hidden objects revealing his hitherto transparent, grotesque misshapen, swollen, purple bulbuous eggplant inadvertently, much to Michael's horror it shouted "Feed Me" and promptly fell asleep after devouring Om nom nom nom Zzzzzz

While sleeping he dreams about last time he was afk and came back to find that termites had eaten his homework, absolving his dog while raising suspicions about the cat's purchase of fertilizer and kerosene. The cat really hated termites. But hate clouds judgment, so he forgave her, except for that time with the Nerf although he wasn't wearing safety britches anymore, he had given that time in Tijuana when you didn´t know where your arse end was anymore since you were always arse-up and a tingling sensation started creeping its way up your chain of command, increasing the need for rapidly absorbent materials.

Sagadin gasped at the massive arm that extruded from the middle of Rhonda's torso and picked at her bellybutton lint. With enough lint to stuff a giant Build-A-Bear until it's too bloated to move. "Drat, I always wanted to spend some time with my alt avatar, she's cute! 

        Unfortunately, she's allergic to avocado....
Really cute! She looks like sunset dancing with enchanted swans. 
        ...donuts and unfortunately simultaneous replies.

Slack-jawed, dropping donut bits, leading to overweight or bulemic swans. To counter that, they began an underwater pilates fitness class They had difficulty finding a reasonably shark-free venue at first but sharks like pilates too, not as much as surfers who watch the pilates scheduling -- they didn't taste like fish they taste like teen spirit as most pilates watching surfers who prefer really gnarly curls don't own a hair straightener, but know when to surf when not honking on turf nerf, which taste like burnt avocado completely slathered with mayo heated with a handy flamethrower and left to fester under a pile of unicorn skittles before being scraped into the box for the orphan sea lion, the witch, and the wardrobe. 
But the wardrobe was covered in pink sequined animesh worn by Lili Von Shtupp at the popular fashionable event 'cause she ate many tacos from the food trucks outside

Edited by Callum Meriman
  • Like 1
  • Thanks 2
  • Haha 3

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Ha!  The laugh's on you. It only says "testing". 

No, wait!   Testing is an anagram ....   Hmm... INGEST T .....  G.T. STEIN (Gertrude?  Is that you?) .... NET GITS  (possibly ...)   ... must keep working at this .... :ph34r:

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
1 minute ago, Rolig Loon said:

Ha!  The laugh's on you. It only says "testing". 

No, wait!   Testing is an anagram ....   Hmm... INGEST T .....  G.T. STEIN (Gertrude?  Is that you?) .... NET GITS  (possibly ...)   ... must keep working at this .... :ph34r:

haha yes, I know. I is noob.

Go read again! That was a heck of a lot of Ctrl-C/Ctrl-V.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
34 minutes ago, Callum Meriman said:

I was considering putting the compilation - to date - of the Sentient Thread in the "Yo, don't pick on people who dun speak English" thread...

But it's better here.

(don't read, it will make your head hurt)

 


I skimmed through it (because it was nicely formatted) and it's not as bad as I thought it might be :)

Some parts even (almost) make sense.

Kudo's for compiling it, Callum.

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

@Tex Monday - I just have to point this out, in case you aren't following this particular thread

 

2 hours ago, Callum Meriman said:

I was considering putting the compilation - to date - of the Sentient Thread in the "Yo, don't pick on people who dun speak English" thread...

But it's better here.

(don't read, it will make your head hurt)

 

  Reveal hidden contents

Once upon a time, A fella revived the forums by starting a possibly fun game. The residents were wary but so bored they played anyway. Maddy brought along the fire.

You had me at "Hello." but there was no reply. Patiently I waited, hoping that something momentously exotic would happen. But all that happened was the high-res textures stayed grey. 

Disillusioned I turned and saw Five jellydolls coming my way. When they noticed me, they said "oh no" and ran away, leaving me to ponder were they a boy band? and did they sing anything from Tommy's Spice Girls CD, which he kept in his hidden, super secret, time capsule only to be opened when the prims and music die.

I started to search and got a media plugin error so I confronted the creator who promptly replaced it, but increased land impact by 200 but this is a perk that will make ya Bonafide And smile a mile wide. 

Therefore, it is time to execute the infamous Plan B. Armed with the popgun I peered out into dense fog. Not sensing any danger, I march forward, only to discover angry glytches beneath the grasses. I had seen this before during my years in the the freebie malls of second life, too noob to care. I took aim at the critter and fired. However, it laughed and then quickly transformed into a Linden who then ran off to work on more exciting new perks for premium members. Unfortunately those perks were deemed too enticing for most users who left quickly and thus never learned of the wonders hidden in SL.

The OP sat, pondering what will come next, when suddenly we all got massive cooties, giant, hairy Animesh cooties that grazed on sculpties and wore so much bling that they wondered what they were doing dressed in mauve evening gowns with diamonds draped from their naughty bits all so cleverly that nobody even noticed them.

And then the condom broke, and like a dam breaking,  9 months later out popped Baby Che, shouting "Viva PRIMS!".


Suddenly, the ground began to erupt with flaming, furry chickens - KFC went bankrupt almost overnight and Colonel Sanders wept bitterly large tears of herbs/spices filling bucket after bucket, and do you want fries with that? It's finger lickin' good but the recipe is secret, Maddie sets it on fire resulting in charred chicken lips which gave Sanders an idea to offer socialized medicine to the hairy blingy animesh cooties lagging sim events with blatant flouting of Terms of Service which most don't read anyway because the hairless rabbit griefers are easily distracted by carrots and carrots usually make them poop all over my lawn just like my mainland neighbors; The SLardashians, a family of  Catwa Bimbos from Planet Cellulite orbiting a star made of fashion events, gacha fairs and Strawberry Stilton flavoured edible panties packed inside a delivery hud by sumo wrestlers with delicate sensibilities regarding color and texture so they wear mawashis of rhinestone-studded burlap and flamingo feathers attached to tortured prims that suddenly turned into animesh, bouncing until they crashed the sim, releasing waves of orange marmalade.
When it was FINALLY restored by forensic archeologists with plywood only one survivor was found wearing an orange sports bra. It was Maddie holding a...

Wait...is that a flamethrower?

No, an avocado filled donut with heavenly strawberry vanilla frosting who was secretly camming on that reprobate Snugs who was alert enough to catch Whirly trying to steal Maddy's donut and replace it with scrambled eggofu sprinkled liberally with spicy pepper and dog biscuit crumbs, which is Snug's favorite topping.

Look out everyone!  Rampaging robot turning off the asset server and onto a dirt road.

Maddy launches the donut, her serene visage clouded by hyperglycemic shock and dog biscuit crumbs.

A passerby stopped and asked "Pardon me, do you have an avocado donut, by chance?"

The rampaging robot spun wildy, fizzling donut covering its receptors screaming "Out Of Cheese Error!" And spewing grease globs hysterically.

Maddy giggled with evil glee shouting "In your face, Torquemada!".

Oh, but torque is cheap with a chinese alligator wrench. But wrenching alligators incites PETA to launch a Tofu attack. 
The resulting checkmate precipitated a cascade of stinging, flaming particles visible from the neighbouring sim Each, when colliding with anything caused more media plugin errors eliciting howls of "Fake News!"

Then suddenly, a quiet fell. Someone was heard softly whispering as it snowed in hell on a Hollywood mogul’s libido which was actually quite unimpressive especially after it became news that Trump read on Twitter about shiny prim made genitals because his was itty bitty like his itty bitty hands and his itty bitty skills and itty bitty bento attachments and his GIANT flexi ego.

He was SO shocked that he wanted a wall built, someone bought a parcel there surrounded in Madland privacy shields. He grabbed the shields by the jagged edges, doing whatever he could to make them inactive and was sad, so sad, his tears made a moat in which swam halite alligators renowned as orthodontists and cobblers and who are probably misconstrued, much to their dismay, and made more people leave secondlife.

"I am over this thread" Panatropica thought to her self while singing opera on her toilet.  Then her phone rang.

"This is threadware® calling. We call at the worst times, the polyester knitted outfit you gifted to Ebbe, has burst"

"All lies!" I yelled out. But my allies had fled.

When dawn finally arrived, orange floating text blocked out the naughty bits of the giant stone monsters on adult sims. This disturbed those with a delicate digestive system and so the avacado donuts came out, looking less appetizing than before.

However, after adding blingy sprinkles, and with particles streaming out they looked less like donuts and more like onion rings, though they smelled more like victory, with an aftertaste of four day old anchovy pizza and absolute soul crushing defeat.

Responding quickly, an opposing force (-1 times mass times acceleration) and one very enraged chicken raised their flag and proceeded, like lemmings at a rave, to a sleazy strip club of male dancers covered in female patrons who were busily pasting sequins on their tights, trying to control their physics jiggling like kid's party jello shots, though more legal... unless you don't count the vodka.

Suddenly, a flying monkey crashed through a window, causing Iva to quite calmly reach for the vodka. Then she leaped onstage, grabbing the dance pole and EVERYONE stopped to watch as she seductively started removing money from willing wallets, amassing a fortune in Zimbabwean dollars spent on Giant Beaver repellant.

Then, PETA, and the IRS rearranged themselves to form PARTIES! which really weren't any fun until someone showed up with Pentothal lollipops, Twister and ten signed copies of Jitterbug Perfume which, for safety, were put in the staff room fridge where Lindal kept her pizza.
It didn't take long before the pizza and the lollipops began a strange dance together... Nine months later, they named Maddy their Evil Overlord and Understudy, for she's not the leader of the chosen ones whose legs are on backwards.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, it was a dark and silly night and we were playing spin the bottle with Phillip Linden and Jack Bauer. The candle flames were wavering, while further out, in darkness three hundred and thirteen hipsters with brightly sequined hula hoops tried cramming into Donald's car (Haha! Hopeful, hooping, hipster hippies!) only to discover that all hulas are ruled by Sauron and Sauron doesn't understand hoopla.
What he DOES understand is combat, and only combat, without blingy particles or edible panties and he is not very nice to people who wear Inedible panties - not at all.

Those kind of people make evil tyrants look like fuzzy underwear eating, particle blinging puffs. 

When artificial flavorings were found they were purged with fire! and Cheese Whizz, American Style!

"What? No CoolWhip?" she asked. 

Causing Maddy to pull out which, of course, resulted in more CoolWhip for everyone else.

Breathing Coolwhip gas is fun! They wandered off, woozy and wearing signs “Caution: Unpredictable Behavior”. 

Iva tripped over Love's enormous fidget spinner that was used in an illegal cage match but, this particular cage match was legalised by Linden Lab but only under specific circumstances the first of which was "You do not talk about your mother-in-law, pictured only in...

...sorry, can't talk about her."

So let's talk about when and where the party is going to be raided by tiny, fluffy kittens wearing adorable but somewhat sparkly rainbow colored and embarrassingly smelly pieces of puce tulle, sewn together with scrotum hair and pocket lint.

Thus began "Levi's 69s", inspiring yet awkward positioning of their Breast mounted anti aircraft cannons that fired randomly at passing clueless noobs with long dangling participles. English majors hate them because they're jealous of how participles get all the action because they're so well hung with medals the Majors want to have hanging from themselves to impress the other majors and, of course, the colonels. But not the generals, because they generally, dislike the Generals for losing to the Globetrotters.

This is becoming very silly, but it started that way, then went downhill very fast, until reaching a sharp turn somewhere near the avocado donuts. Oh, boy. I love donuts. But donuts can be fattening. These are also nice  donuts. But those smell of rubber. so do the avocado ones.
Madelaine, the globetrotters always win games with the lonely Generals only when wearing rubber suits Just in case they spilled Root beer on their basketballs which were now so sticky, girls won't play with them even though the boys will gladly immerse themselves in the library paste and motor oil providing slippery yet sticky fun just like K-Y and honey! Who're touring with Elvis Costello, not to be confused with Abbot and Costello, comedy duo or figure skater Elvis Stojko best known for his fascinating impersonations of footballer Elvis Abbruscato and Henry "Velvet" Elvis Washington. Called "velvet" because of his...

(wouldn't you like to know)
[ TOP SECRET. Burn before reading! ]
Squinting with ashen fingertips, everybody trudged back to the story...

Tentacle  monsters.  Tentacle  monsters everywhere!" screamed "Armoured Space Panties" wearers.

"Fear not!", cried the Hero, "How long will this last?" 

Checking with the developers, "Soon™" the developers replied when asked "It works on my machine", so there is no problem and there is no spoon don't worry about that vase.

At that very moment, Ringo totally missed the Matrix reference which LSL doesn't support, because, well, LSL doesn't do matrices. But there are awesome mattresses! Upon which mistresses, waitresses, and mistresses practice multiplying linear vertices. Submissives tied up in knots with colic, like sick horses, at least not horse farts.

Fortunately, Torley was there to reduce everything to two colors. So, pick two .... any two.

Refusing to share their specs the engineers decided instead to play cards in the caboose with Liam the Alaskan moose. 

"Zeus! A loose moose in my produce juice," shouted Bruce "No! A puce moose in search of a loose mousse while sluicing for golden goose"
"A chartreuse goose? That's obtuse." Said Ferret from the bleachers who was trying to seduce the Deuce-Coupe Troup's super-sized thirty stone belly dancer who couldn't spell 'troupe' either because they never learned how. Like How Now Brown Cow?

Brown Cow, hearing her name, transformed into a beautiful faerie wearing a purple and pink tommygun for shooting at the Las Vegas themed Christmas lights but there were no bullets, "peace on earth," they said while Marvin lit the fuse "but don't urinate on Uranus."

Uranus is really for.....ummmm our forum, because we're all extra geeky, space and science fanatics, merrily spinning quaternions on Pro DJ Twin Record Turntables, paying the required licence fee, wondering why no combat forum. Ganks noobs to PK them as Panda flavoured field rations would tear your face off.

(Narrator eats shoots and leaves.)
Just ignore and let this... 
"No!"  Narrator scrambles back to file their finger nails quietly "I know where you sleep."

Narrator came back, now eating an avocado filled doughnut and lead to heartburn and violent intestinal discomfort. Run to bathroom. AvSitter button one or two? Too late!  Mop and bucket. "Rez failure". Bad mesh houses even worse scripts. But that never demoralizes people with flashy bling shoes on their feet or blingy jewelry attached to exotic conga dancers in skin.

Didn't Ricky Ricardo sing Babaloo?

Lola a showgirl at Copacabana slowly pulled the pin from her Harvey Weinstein voodoo doll and watched it start smoking pot, in defiance of all fire regulations, but a girl needs a man like a a fish needs a bike. When you're tryin' to throw up last night's anchovy pizza to a woman dangling from the fragile precipice of reason, have a safety net ready to catch some more fish and kiss with duck lips.

Mesh head trout pout bimbos run screaming from the terrible net neutrality breaking FCC head its gnarly hands outstretched towards the populist that depends on avocado donuts with chocolate fudge for a cup-a-soup recipe idea enjoyed by Trump watching Fox wondering what the fox says when it needs a hug. 

It begs like a puppy but hangs with the chickens who come home to roost but not to be roasted with the chestnuts.  Instead, they are sauteed with olive oil who was infatuated with Popeye and his enormous Spinach Can's Spicy Chicken and Cajun Fries. Now we all be eatin 

*Sorry, Reel Missing. Management Apologies*

The next one plays backwards masking made famous by Beatles. "Turn me on, dead man" cried the Blue Meanie, Max - waking suddenly from a nightmare involving Lederhosen and sour cream in his pockets and rancid milk, left out all week.

Worse still, Conifer had placed donuts on a prim horse thinking the horse preferred glazed eyes drinking cartons of Sauerkrautsaft.

Then, something really weird happened. We mean really, really weird ... weirder than an honest politician... a red egg, found in Prok's Pirate Chicken Airship the band settled on Jefferson Airplane. 

The top of this airplane was, alarmingly, below its bottom causing wing walkers to vomit, deciding a better career is that of a stunt pilot or professional after dinner speaker. Speaking at dinners, a competitive job, where ranking counts for shaking hands and kissing babies NOT the other way around! 
When wet handed parents attack! Professional after dinner speakers wipe spilt food off their jackets thrown by the angry listeners at baby shaking guest speakers forgetting that babies spit up ome type of protein mass. 

"Codswallop" ruminated the waiting ikizukuri

"Wrong story" shouted the guests. 
"Have a happy christmas everyone!"
"Any more avocado filled donuts?"
OH YUK! Kathyparnes1 yelled furiously.

Shaking babies? Check the physics *slowly opens baby shaking manual* and saw pictures like this.

Chapter one:: "Introduction to babies"
Babies are small...so small you can fit them in a comfy sock drawer bassinette if you unbox them first and torture twist their prim and proper parents, you can drag the corner boxes, but then pin them tightly, because jittery hands could send them to the moon, Alice! So they're bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy fun, fun, fun, fun, fun at the annual tiggers picnic.

NOT the teddy bears picnic because the ants ate the food from Yogi Bear's basket while he was getting busy with the park ranger's daughter. She had the biggest, bounciest  bunny rabbits in the world castle in the whole world.

"Don't be silly. Bunny castles?"
"Yes," she said, "bunny castles... 
"Ah, zut! Quel bunny idee! pourrait fonctionner, floppy eared dungeons"
Looking confused, searches for translator "Dang, this translator's broken again!"

Sven, the translator, sighs heavily and ate his raw herring Uppmana, Sven. Det är kaffetid. Caffeine addled translation is responsible for Klingons speaking like Ferengi.

Exasperated and (despite caffeine) exhausted, I turn back to the TARDIS and contemplate "where now?". Set it to random and put pennies on your eyelids -- that sage advice I recall -- as if from some distant future I have visited, but forgot to take photos of, to prove I'm not nutty. 

As if anyone would believe that the future really does loop back to the past.

As if anyone would believe that the future really does include Bill Murray and rodents and naturally, a DeLorean DMC-12 powered by Lab server hamsters Like the one pictured below when it is properly tuned, it will reach enormous speeds while fertilizing the house plants which turn into anatiferous trees, eventually blanketing Earth with a mess of tarred downy feathers which are all smelling like wet dog and spoiled ham. For the vegetarians among us are tasty with fava beans and a nice light Chianti, or a nice, heavy Lambrusco.

But sailors, too salty to serve without a honey glaze unless you prefer them smoked over Washington's Cherry Tree Chippings which gives a woody flavor (not that kind of wood unless you’re a “splinter pr*ck”)

(parentheses?...is this off record? or don't ask don't tell?)

Suddenly Ivanova Shostakovich shouted out "Chocolate Vodka rules the World!" careening around the corner in  her perfectly tanned birthday suit of the finest Yak leather "smoked? Sailors should be pickled!" tooting tunes on a Sax Fifth Avenue clerk's tummy, which "Choclate voka ruules the whorll!"

Those around stop to consider whether or not Ivanova shares knowledge of her torrid relationship with tree-diving manatees in Florida's secret lust-pit of sin called Popeyes House Of Happy Stuff and aromatic organic chicken by-products and essential oils scenting the lovingly prepared and embalmed corpse wrapped in the pages of Fish and chips serving newspaper trumpeting headlines of Whitehouse books stacked so high they topple daily, like third world governments. Sighs... and carefully begins to extract lint from a navel orange, found under the bed, coated with sticky dust bunnies, demanding fluffy orange dust carrots to snort instead of the cat box sweepings left from Schrödinger's weird experiments with octopuses.

September's pussies had been relatively calm all in that contraption forgetting all about the babies safe in their little cradles of yarn looped around fingers of the buddha's hand, dangling participles, like dewlaps on aging similes, comforting us with their gentle smiles and motherly murmurings alliterative allusions  (insipid insights?) or metaphorical meanderings, but enough of their craziness.  We should be attending to our aging auntie's birthday party. She's a blast furnace repair technician for the femur relocation institute of technology, which gets a leg up on any android you can disable with an EMP grenade or a glass of saline.

Add "T", you have saltine, which are great with soup if it's served hot enough or chilled vichyssoise with bacon flavored edible sporks. Meanwhile, on the topic of food, President Richard Nixon once declared kimchi his personal "masseuse", a euphemism for "rumpy-pumpy" back in 1970 (a little known hysterical fact) He kept a diary about this but erased the tapes when Rosemary Woods tripped over Nixon's copy of "Alice's Restaurant".

I don't want a pickle. I just wanna ride on a drunken horse, merrily singing "My father was the keeper of large barnacles and pearls before swine was considered haute couture and was still just bas relief, pigs having socially advanced since reading George Orwell bedtime stories, which gave him a serious aversion to pork.

That's why G. Gordon Liddy did not convert to Islam for the cuisine, but for tax reasons. Unfortunately, there were those details his man-servant forgot like him being friends with the salty pickled sailors from everywhere. All sailors are salty and crusty, like that ol' Popeye and also quite frequently pickled cabbage for it's Sauerkraut juice. Served with chocolate ice cream, makes for a disgusting float.

Duly, the crew heaved ho... (with carrot bits) and set sail for the end of the world, where the alleged restaurant was closed. ("Alleged" being a euphemism for crack house). Where the sailors forced the crack wide and ate with a runcible spoon basically making the crack useless.
"Methinks I hear voices!" said Rasputin, lurking in the shadows.

Meanwhile, the source of the chronic and severe abdominal pain left town on a rail. He rode his railroad unicycle, like a clown, he was and like Yoda he speaking about the historical romance of Maddy's old stale avacado donuts being charred by her favorite flaming fire of firey flames!

Time waited, pregnant with the demonic offspring of Procrastination, who was hoping for early snowfall.

Did someone just mention manatees? Or other tree dwelling mammals like squirrels, who heard Rhonda's story about the lost treasure, but I found Clover again. Planted face first in catnip, mewing softly as she slept through the alarm, four phone bills went unpaid for months.

Then, finally, her landlord said, "Enough already with the shipments knows Bell Epoch from BelAmi brothers, who sang country songs accompanied on autoharp and bassoon employed by 7-11 to repel those peskey repo-men wannabes who walk around in women's underwear and try to steal slurpees which are hard to fence.

'en garde' she called out and confusingly pointed her pistol packing Mama towards the approaching invading hoards of flannel wearing ironing boards, teetering wildly on pink twisted pipe cleaner legs modelled like Florida lawn flamingos. But curiously, the ironing boards unfolded themselves and started to loudly sing a show tune from "Dames", infuriating people in the first row, because they thought they had Dokken tickets.

Aislin unbuttoned her shirt revealing an embroidered pink paisley "S" curved tattoo down the middle not beautiful, nor a taint, close your eyes, don't faint or one might find themselves or maybe herself or itself up to your arse in Novosibirsk, eating borscht popsicles with equally frozen friends, who wonder why they can't follow this. The rules are quite simple: divide every even prime number by the number of holes in the large red colandar...

"Wait!  Every even prime number?"
...Yes, every one of it then it multiply by pi and keep a washcloth handy in case of premature exponentiation.

Nods sagely. "Yes, of course. never happened before, I swear Mom, I was doing homework reconstructing what the dog ate from my Ogden Nash book.
Rolig also barks backwards, because she's barking up the wrong palindrome. Step on no pets since, Madam, I am Adam, No WAY!  A papaya won!
Bob. (sigh) I got nuthin'. Or did you mean boob?

For sale. baby shoes. Uunused. Because Hemingway was born wearing nipple clamps and a beard. and then I went shopping
OVERLOAD! SHUT IT DOWN, TEX! 
Oh no! The meta-level's back!
door's open and the meme's achieved a low level sentience.
"Overload???"  Looks nervous.  "Not overdrive?"
"Nope. Overdrive's out of whack."

In desperation, they tried Geritol which really got things going until they hit a magnet of which was very attractive (ta da boom, tish ding)
"WHAT happened to my shirt?" is not something to ask a stern nun in habit. Instead, you should ask if your buttons unbuttoned themselves? I love when that happens :-)

The nun may fly away, we'll be nun the wiser, taking off from Sally Field south of Wright Brothers field. North is the Wrong Brothers -- Wrong, Wrong Again, Still Wrong until you put your right foot in, you put your money where your mouth is.

Meanwhile, gridsurvey.com hasn't been updated with AOL's new Instant Messenger. You have mail, or female, or Hotmail’s a hot male, not quite a hot tamale more likely a hot mess, requiring some care when taking cats to Cats the musical lest they attempt singing showtunes blindfold and without a net neutrality agreement.  

Also, some cats up and mustard is enough to disguise any hot dog lying on a Belize beach thinking "can I be extradited?" Maybe even obtain sanctuary for some neglected and abused wildlife are better off as pets don't forget, lock their collar, stays in with Liquid Stitch™. But use the serger for the bows with the bells for the beaux and belles or belle of beaux balls beautifully beguiled by bronzed boyfriends who curiously couldn't catch cupid  even with their very large...

Oh look! There's a squirrel! Its nuts are so huge! Ohhhh so very very big... You just won't believe how wild and crazy this thread grew after it became sentient, inciting forumites to grab shovels, torches and pitchforks and then march to Dr Frankensteeen's castle, grabbing flamethrowers on the way.

Wait, Maddy brought extra ones?
Plus some for the kids.

Warning: Product may contain nut and be hazardous to many DoH!nut holes that were lonely Saying, “Eat me! Eat me!” So Alice gobbled them down long with a thick, black friend she was teaching to play strip tiddlywinks at the Piggly Wiggly in Opelousas Louisiana.

They'd been banned before from painting the avocado donut holes with wasabi paste and bacon when kielbasa and horseradish weren't on sale.  Alice knew that prim horses weren't actually real but wasn't sure about mesh private parts that glowed brightly to guide sailors home from their drunken kielbasa brawls with imaginary prim unicorns and eels riding around in Lithuanian hovercraft.

Meanwhile, i'm watching a movie starring Frau Blücher, a stallion, and a bug eyed hunchback played by wonderful Marty Feldman.

Suddenly, Alice remembered her ferret was auditioning for a role in the new Chipmunks movie and hadn't rehearsed her lines -- she was too busy dreaming that she was a muskrat named Susie in love with that new nutria who moved in mysterious ways.  However Alice was determined this time not to let her ferret fail so she stuffed her handbag with pink erasers and skunk-like furry striped scarves for a trip to the studio where Harvey Weinstein waited expectantly. 

“Every story, Harvey, has a finger in the pie, but a hand in the bush earns scorn in the news."

The ferret practiced those lines so determinedly, so fervently, that it didn't notice the bus intentionally aimed directly at Harvey driven by a flamethrower toting cookbook wielding, saucepan shielding, ignorant Maddie, who was furious after incinerating breakfast accidentally three times. Aiming the flamethrower at the ugly head of Harvey Weinstein seeing the freebee prim hair that would ignite so easily!

"Oxygen in use. No smoking" was readable on the sign before it burst into flame. Right on cue, the firemen exit left, pursued by a angry mob with pitchforks and ferrets wielding pencils as spears. 

Those pickle spears are deadly unless you've been voice verified by a trustworthy pickle owner. Rather than a dill pickle. which are yummy on burgers But terrible on maddie's donuts unless deep fried first and rolled in brown sugar and replaced with a milk shake.

These culinary musings were interrupted by heartburn at 3:00 AM followed by bountiful botttom burping around a really large campfire.

"Who crapped on a buzzard?" Mongo wondered. He took another swig of Diet Pepsi and choked on it, after seeing that it was still alive. It was grinning up at them all and it gurgled sorta like a death rattle, not to be confused with a rattlesnake and he said "That's the bottom line, cause I am just a pawn in months without an R" Hedley Lamarr made that rule and now Mongo very sad." 

Where are all the white She asked, giving side-eye Pete a wide berth because sleeping in a narrow berth was a ferret known as 'Bad news Betty', amongst friends. Suddenly,  Pete "Psychotïts" Whohowlski jumped, waking Betty, whose mood was showing on her Mood Ring. It wasn't pretty, that ring. Bringing back memories of teenager Michael Landon trying to shave two bucks off the price of some designer Angel wings which, in actuality, were cheap Filipino knock-offs made from vinyl on a flimsy wire frame. 

Ctrl-shift-r exposed some hidden objects revealing his hitherto transparent, grotesque misshapen, swollen, purple bulbuous eggplant inadvertently, much to Michael's horror it shouted "Feed Me" and promptly fell asleep after devouring Om nom nom nom Zzzzzz

While sleeping he dreams about last time he was afk and came back to find that termites had eaten his homework, absolving his dog while raising suspicions about the cat's purchase of fertilizer and kerosene. The cat really hated termites. But hate clouds judgment, so he forgave her, except for that time with the Nerf although he wasn't wearing safety britches anymore, he had given that time in Tijuana when you didn´t know where your arse end was anymore since you were always arse-up and a tingling sensation started creeping its way up your chain of command, increasing the need for rapidly absorbent materials.

Sagadin gasped at the massive arm that extruded from the middle of Rhonda's torso and picked at her bellybutton lint. With enough lint to stuff a giant Build-A-Bear until it's too bloated to move. "Drat, I always wanted to spend some time with my alt avatar, she's cute! 

        Unfortunately, she's allergic to avocado....
Really cute! She looks like sunset dancing with enchanted swans. 
        ...donuts and unfortunately simultaneous replies.

Slack-jawed, dropping donut bits, leading to overweight or bulemic swans. To counter that, they began an underwater pilates fitness class They had difficulty finding a reasonably shark-free venue at first but sharks like pilates too, not as much as surfers who watch the pilates scheduling -- they didn't taste like fish they taste like teen spirit as most pilates watching surfers who prefer really gnarly curls don't own a hair straightener, but know when to surf when not honking on turf nerf, which taste like burnt avocado completely slathered with mayo heated with a handy flamethrower and left to fester under a pile of unicorn skittles before being scraped into the box for the orphan sea lion, the witch, and the wardrobe. 
But the wardrobe was covered in pink sequined animesh worn by Lili Von Shtupp at the popular fashionable event 'cause she ate many tacos from the food trucks outside

 

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
3 hours ago, Rolig Loon said:

This makes more sense than Finnegan's Wake and is much funnier.  James Joyce, eat your heart out.

Like FW, I skimmed it. Was surprised someone invoked my name! Unlike FW, the last 47 pages probably won’t be a single sentence about m*st*rb*t*ng with a b*n*n*.

  • Like 1

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Sigismondo Benini (18th century) was an Italian painter of the Baroque period, active in Lombardy, painting landscapes or vedute. He was born in Cremona, and trained with Angelo Massarotti. His son Giuseppe Benini also painted landscapes. His grandson Luigi Benini, died at age 34 years. He had studied in Rome and returned to Cremona in 1790.

3ec6e57cca9c1286bcd9698520c76b8e.jpg

Edited by Rolig Loon
  • Like 2

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
On 2/5/2018 at 6:00 AM, Love Zhaoying said:

No mistake, some may use it all day! See above, edited.

Some of us eat all day too!!

/me rolls over and shows a cute little kitten tummy, stretched a little from a nice salad for dinner, and covered in soft kitten fur :D

Edited by Callum Meriman
  • Like 2
  • Thanks 1

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
58 minutes ago, Callum Meriman said:

Some of us eat all day too!!

/me rolls over and shows a cute little kitten tummy, stretched a little from a nice salad for dinner, and covered in soft kitten fur :D

 

5E794297-C8E4-438B-8D65-BF4FD68E9CAF.jpeg

  • Like 2

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.


×
×
  • Create New...