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Open Bar: Curbside Pickup Only

Started by Junkenstein, July 09, 2020, 06:38:37 PM

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altered

 :lulz:

Someone, somehow, stole my work email. Cait.null.pro@gmail.com, meant to impress the hiring managers with how SERIOUS I am. Just fucking gone. I got force-logged out of it this morning and can't recover it.
"I am that worst of all type of criminal...I cannot bring myself to do what you tell me, because you told me."

There's over 100 of us in this meat-suit. You'd think it runs like a ship, but it's more like a hundred and ten angry ghosts having an old-school QuakeWorld tournament, three people desperately trying to make sure the gamers don't go hungry or soil themselves, and the Facilities manager weeping in the corner as the garbage piles high.

Cainad (dec.)

I joined this forum when I was 17. Today I turned 30 years old.

Just felt like saying it.

minuspace


Doktor Howl

Quote from: Cainad (dec.) on July 26, 2020, 04:19:07 AM
I joined this forum when I was 17. Today I turned 30 years old.

Just felt like saying it.

I joined when I was 34.

I'm dead now.
Molon Lube

Trivial

Weird Regis Philbin died I didn't hear anything about iit.  And by hear, I mean none of my fb feed people posted about it.
Sexy Octopus of the Next Noosphere Horde

There are more nipples in the world than people.

Fujikoma

The price is wrong, biatch. Probably the wrong game show.

chaotic neutral observer

The phone rang.  We still have a landline.  Mom told me to get it.
I answered.  It was a recording, from Visa/Mastercard account services; I'd qualified for a 0% interest rate.
But this time, there was a difference.  I pressed one.

There was a long pause, pregnant with the impregnable silence of the pit.

Then, sound; first, the background noise of a call center, and then a man with an Indian accent.  I don't remember what he said.  It didn't matter.

I inhaled, and screamed.  A hideous, bone-scraping, mind-flaying scream, a wail drawn from deepest void of hell, a cry empty of sanity, of humanity, of hope.  And as my breath slowly dwindled, my voice fading to a gasping, agonized moan,
I hung up.

I'd like to think I ruined his day.

I have a taste for this, now.
Next time will be worse.
Desine fata deum flecti sperare precando.

chaotic neutral observer

#172
Quote from: chaotic neutral observer on July 27, 2020, 08:20:41 PM
There was a long pause, pregnant with the impregnable silence of the pit.

What the fuck is that line?  "Pregnant with the impregnable"?  Are you just stringing together random words and pretending that's clever?  God, you're such a moron.
Desine fata deum flecti sperare precando.

POFP

 :lulz:

This should also be a mobile app. It should respond to all calls from specified numbers or numbers owned by specified organizations with blood-curdling screams, and then maybe throw in a Wilhelm here and there.
This Certified Pope™ reserves the Right to, on occasion, "be a complete dumbass", and otherwise ponder "idiotic" and/or "useless" ideas and other such "tomfoolery." [Aforementioned] are only responsible for the results of these actions and tendencies when they have had their addictive substance of choice for that day.

Being a Product of their Environment's Collective Order and Disorder, [Aforementioned] also reserves the Right to have their ideas, technologies, and otherwise all Intellectual Property stolen, re-purposed, and re-attributed at Will ONLY by other Certified Popes. Corporations, LLC's, and otherwise Capitalist-based organizations are NOT capable of being Certified Popes.

Battering Rams not included.

Doktor Howl

Quote from: chaotic neutral observer on July 27, 2020, 08:20:41 PM
The phone rang.  We still have a landline.  Mom told me to get it.
I answered.  It was a recording, from Visa/Mastercard account services; I'd qualified for a 0% interest rate.
But this time, there was a difference.  I pressed one.

There was a long pause, pregnant with the impregnable silence of the pit.

Then, sound; first, the background noise of a call center, and then a man with an Indian accent.  I don't remember what he said.  It didn't matter.

I inhaled, and screamed.  A hideous, bone-scraping, mind-flaying scream, a wail drawn from deepest void of hell, a cry empty of sanity, of humanity, of hope.  And as my breath slowly dwindled, my voice fading to a gasping, agonized moan,
I hung up.

I'd like to think I ruined his day.

I have a taste for this, now.
Next time will be worse.

:mittens:

You gotta prerecord some screams of the damned stuff laid over you saying "WE GOT YOUR FRIENDS."
Molon Lube

altered

Gotta do it in a nice Beetlejuice croak. Southern accent to really draw it out for the best effect.

And you gotta pipe that screams of the damned shit in from the side so it comes in clear and you can still talk live.

You know. Gotta have a conversation. About your dog. We got him too. And what's next? Your neighbor? Your savior? Well, too late for them. We got them and we got it all and we got you too. Click.
"I am that worst of all type of criminal...I cannot bring myself to do what you tell me, because you told me."

There's over 100 of us in this meat-suit. You'd think it runs like a ship, but it's more like a hundred and ten angry ghosts having an old-school QuakeWorld tournament, three people desperately trying to make sure the gamers don't go hungry or soil themselves, and the Facilities manager weeping in the corner as the garbage piles high.

Doktor Howl

Or just the voiceover from the end of Fett's Vette.

"Hey Chris, it's Bowie, uh, I'm at the Pathstation... I was wondering if I could crash on your couch, would that be cool? They locked me out of my apartment. Um... so call me back, man, there's a payphone here, some kid stole my cellphone, but the joke's on him cause Sprint shut it off... uh... just come by the station, alright? I'm gonna be sleeping on one of the benches"
Molon Lube

altered

Just make a whole fucking playlist. So much potential. :lulz:
"I am that worst of all type of criminal...I cannot bring myself to do what you tell me, because you told me."

There's over 100 of us in this meat-suit. You'd think it runs like a ship, but it's more like a hundred and ten angry ghosts having an old-school QuakeWorld tournament, three people desperately trying to make sure the gamers don't go hungry or soil themselves, and the Facilities manager weeping in the corner as the garbage piles high.

Chelagoras The Boulder

Hey guys, I'm back! 2020 has somehow failed to kill me thus far. should ask for my fucking money back.

recently got a new job producing spiritually themed candles for a local small business. Pays better and is safer than what i would have been doing before the pandemic, so i'm pretty happy with it. Also we make dick candles, which is still funny.

"It isn't who you know, it's who you know, if you know what I mean.  And I think you do."

Cramulus

congrats on the new job

do you need suggestions for spiritual candle names? Cause we could help with that


-Angel's Laundry
-Musty Old Bible
-St. Gulik's Secret Stash