« on: April 10, 2013, 11:44:38 pm »
As a clown, I can say that if this is what thoughtful conversation consists of then CLOWN ON MOTHERFUCKER.
The End of the World is Coming, and YOU MAY DIE
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While humanity is not required for our MEXICO, it is a clear requirement (Form GH3/2ass/hat, Deceleration A333L&&&/££"!11"/2/2/2E, or the "I am a HuMAN and possess an actual head, skull and contents, medical certification required in quadriclate) that the Ceremonial Sombrero must be shown upon MEXICO's HEAD (And you must recall the strife that occurred the last time a MEXICO just touched the hat. Body and baby parts in the streets for weeks, cats and dogs living together you know the rest)
As a known Lizard person, this aspect alone should stop you. I also remind you of the official portrait requirement that you would be unable to fulfil.
These are the laws of Mexico. Please do not disrupt the peaceful transition process.
I, however, have developed a wonderfur meta self, in where I realize I am naught but a brute, and therefore develop a secondary personality which does its best to countermand my base impulses when dealing with a female I wish to
bone hard and long have a respectful and meaningful relationshipbone hard and long.
This leads to a self-imposed cognitive dissonance, where I often act in bizarre and unexpected ways as I try to act the way I think she wants me to act, which is often completely wrong.
Roger has the superior Way. Obvioulsy.
I just know who and what I am.
I am not stupid, but I am a fool. I love women in general terms, and I go partially concussed when I am around them. When I am around a woman I love in specific terms, I go completely brain damaged...By which I mean, my motivations on any given subject are very simple and very obvious. This leads people to think there's something going on under the surface.
But there isn't. There's just The Good Reverend Doktor Roger Howl jamming his head into the future, to see what will happen.
It sounds goofy, but it's a winning strategy for happiness. And slightly elevated medical expenses.
Well, this one I have (or thought I had) is confusing the fuck out of me. He ought to take a lesson from your book.
All he has to do is let me know that he wants to put his penis in me, and I'm there.
Having met you, it is obvious that the confusion isn't on YOUR part.
Diagnosis: HE'S A FUCKING MORON.
Proposed treatment: Roofie him up. Alternatively, go find a guy who isn't stone blind and brainsmashed.
I am BUTTHURT at the following people for the following reasons:
Stella - reminds me of shitty overpriced beer
navkat - not BUTTHURT but pre-emptively BUTTHURT for when she posts her things about BUTTHURT
Roger - a person hairier than I should not exist
LMNO - savage drumming is cracking the walls of the tenement I live in and making it hard to close the door
Luna - is over ten years my senior and LOOKS YOUNGER THAN I DO
Roger - drumming up rumors about the SECOND HALF OF THE JOKE
Ippie - you know what you did you bastard
Waffle - My disagreement with Waffle Iron stems from our fundamentally different perspective regarding the issue of obscure 19th century philosopher/poet Foehershel Byarlsimone. While Mr. Iron insists that his post-Baroque soliloquies are reminiscient of his predecessor and mentor Drekselern Pridistansen I find them more in the style of the Bjorn Fjarlmane in that their umlauts are arranged in a manner meant to evoke sensory delight. And I just can't forgive that shit.
Roger - drank coffee in front of me on a day when I was abstaining from coffee
Cain - due to a variety of reasons I shan't go into presently, I found myself stranded in Nigeria bout a decade ago with my funds tied up in frozen accounts. I sent him an e-mail requesting a small amount just to get mys ass out of Africa and he didn't even fucking respond.
Gogira - name makes too light of the King of Monsters
Roger - just HAS to be on a list more times than anyone else
I'm butthurt that you're not butthurt at me!
Or that I'm going to wake up and find out I'm actually pissing all over my bed.
every time i piss. for as long as i can remember.
I joined in October 1987, and left in May of 1996. If I caught your earlier reference correctly, you are 51, so about 7 years older than I am.Yup. I'm 51, and left the army in December of 1993.
Yeah, man! Born in 1987 WHAT A FUCKING RETARD!
I mean, DAMN, what kind of a DUMBASS is 25 OR 26 YEARS OLD?
You mistake me. I don't think people are dumbasses because they're 25 years old. I think they're dumbasses because THEY'RE DUMBASSES.
Still, it's hilarious being called out by someone who hasn't even had their first major organ failure yet.