(http://i476.photobucket.com/albums/rr126/TGRR/vietcong1.jpg)
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 08, 2010, 11:46:05 PM
(http://i476.photobucket.com/albums/rr126/TGRR/vietcong1.jpg)
DAMN STRAIGHT!!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Eft7dpWsjk
:lulz:
I am starting to believe that teaching Roger how to WRATH was a smart investment for the future.
(http://i476.photobucket.com/albums/rr126/TGRR/horrormirthA1-1.jpg)
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 08, 2010, 11:51:37 PM
(http://i476.photobucket.com/albums/rr126/TGRR/horrormirthA1-1.jpg)
:spittake:
Quote from: Payne on January 08, 2010, 11:50:27 PM
I am starting to believe that teaching Roger how to WRATH was a smart investment for the future.
RED
FUCKING
LOBSTER.
Quote from: NiveKRayne on January 08, 2010, 11:48:39 PM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Eft7dpWsjk
:lulz:
:mittens:
So...the "Red Lobster".
Is that what you kids are calling it these days?
(http://img130.imageshack.us/img130/9472/lolfdk.jpg) (http://img130.imageshack.us/i/lolfdk.jpg/) (http://img130.imageshack.us/img130/lolfdk.jpg/1/w606.png) (http://g.imageshack.us/img130/lolfdk.jpg/1/)
Quote from: xXKazXx on January 08, 2010, 11:57:06 PM
(http://img130.imageshack.us/img130/9472/lolfdk.jpg) (http://img130.imageshack.us/i/lolfdk.jpg/) (http://img130.imageshack.us/img130/lolfdk.jpg/1/w606.png) (http://g.imageshack.us/img130/lolfdk.jpg/1/)
:lulz: :lulz: :lulz:
(http://i476.photobucket.com/albums/rr126/TGRR/nph-drhorrible1.jpg)
(http://i463.photobucket.com/albums/qq354/dickthecat/thulobster.jpg)
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 08, 2010, 11:58:36 PM
(http://i476.photobucket.com/albums/rr126/TGRR/nph-drhorrible1.jpg)
:lulz:
Quote from: Nasturtiums on January 08, 2010, 11:56:20 PM
So...the "Red Lobster".
Is that what you kids are calling it these days?
GET
IN
THE
FUCKING
CAR.
Quote from: Richter on January 08, 2010, 11:58:53 PM
(http://i463.photobucket.com/albums/qq354/dickthecat/thulobster.jpg)
:lulz:
Quote from: Richter on January 08, 2010, 11:58:53 PM
(http://i463.photobucket.com/albums/qq354/dickthecat/thulobster.jpg)
:mittens: :lulz:
EDIT: fucking wrong link.
(http://i476.photobucket.com/albums/rr126/TGRR/left4dead-mar1sta.jpg)
(http://i463.photobucket.com/albums/qq354/dickthecat/SNAKE.jpg)
(http://i463.photobucket.com/albums/qq354/dickthecat/hadogay.jpg)
(http://img694.imageshack.us/img694/3971/oldladygunsupressor.jpg) (http://img694.imageshack.us/i/oldladygunsupressor.jpg/) (http://img694.imageshack.us/img694/oldladygunsupressor.jpg/1/w535.png) (http://g.imageshack.us/img694/oldladygunsupressor.jpg/1/)
Quote from: xXKazXx on January 09, 2010, 12:05:56 AM
(http://img694.imageshack.us/img694/3971/oldladygunsupressor.jpg) (http://img694.imageshack.us/i/oldladygunsupressor.jpg/) (http://img694.imageshack.us/img694/oldladygunsupressor.jpg/1/w535.png) (http://g.imageshack.us/img694/oldladygunsupressor.jpg/1/)
:spit:
:lulz:
OMFG! :mittens:
(http://i476.photobucket.com/albums/rr126/TGRR/fatality_scorpion_01a.jpg)
(http://i463.photobucket.com/albums/qq354/dickthecat/XKCCAR.png)
Quote from: Richter on January 09, 2010, 12:11:49 AM
(http://i463.photobucket.com/albums/qq354/dickthecat/XKCCAR.png)
:lulz:
xD!!! This thread is fucking win!
(http://i463.photobucket.com/albums/qq354/dickthecat/volvofuck.jpg)
(http://i858.photobucket.com/albums/ab147/InkPudding/ostrich_head.jpg)
(http://www.mybrainhurts.com/blog/images/2005/get-in-the-car-bitch1.jpg)
(http://i463.photobucket.com/albums/qq354/dickthecat/KYAFTB.jpg)
:spit:
:lulz: @ Richter!
I am for real LOLing. Like this --> :lol:
(http://i476.photobucket.com/albums/rr126/TGRR/horrible_accident1-1.jpg)
(Mork is the silent partner in the Tucson Cabal.)
With a frighteningly deep voice that scares little children and old people alike.
(http://i463.photobucket.com/albums/qq354/dickthecat/pyramidcar.jpg)
(http://i50.tinypic.com/2ajtnj4.jpg)
I wasted 20 minutes on making this stupid poster that absolutely no one here will get. I need better hobbies.
I had lobster at home yesterday. Little bro's birthday dinner.
Uh...
my mother was trying to force me to go to that horrible fucking place today.
this thread has officially creeped me out a little.
GOOD WORK!
I'm being forced to go to Red Lobster today too. I plan on chuck some Cheddar Bay Biscuits at someone's head.
Quote from: Turdley Burgleson on January 10, 2010, 04:48:22 AM
Uh...
my mother was trying to force me to go to that horrible fucking place today.
this thread has officially creeped me out a little.
GOOD WORK!
Blame Nivek. She thought this shit up. You can view her video clip about it on page one.
Quote from: Richter on January 09, 2010, 12:11:49 AM
(http://i463.photobucket.com/albums/qq354/dickthecat/XKCCAR.png)
noooooooooo!
:lulz:
Bump
(http://diy.despair.com/output/poster49094269.jpg)
(http://img97.imageshack.us/img97/4440/33377665.png)
(http://img251.imageshack.us/img251/2935/73182192.png)
(http://img177.imageshack.us/img177/3431/55919938.png)
More to come once my homework is done.
:lulz: Still funny even after the fact!
Remington is strong in the ways of WOMP.
I need to get my hands on a copy of the Hitler Freaks Out clip, sans subtitles.
When I do, there will be glory.
Edit: Also, KILOPOST
:lulz:
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on January 09, 2010, 12:03:54 AM
(http://i476.photobucket.com/albums/rr126/TGRR/left4dead-mar1sta.jpg)
EVERYONE IN THE CAR!
OMG snow crab was huge, that i jokely asked wip if it was really king
salmon wasnt bad either
there was a couple behind us, sad story really. :lulz:
guy probally works in IT has a wife
who wasnt the woman he was dinning with,
when she asked him if he was going to leave her
I ALMOST DID A SPIT TAKE
I kind of want someone to swoop in and take me to red lobster right now.
Quote from: The Lord and Lady Omnibus Fuck on April 20, 2010, 04:53:11 AM
I kind of want someone to swoop in and take me to red lobster right now.
*Idea* :aaa:
I need another copy of that "amazed at lightbulb" picture. The link went bad, and I need it for Glorious LobsterWOMP NAO. Please to provide?
I ate dinner at Red Lobster last night. I ordered the surf / turf type combo they were offering, and consumed a mediocre steak before begining my work on a lobster that surely flirted with the low end of legal size (I guess the fisheries federales can't be bothered to fuck with the anyone except lobstermen.)
Upon cracking into what I expected to be the crisp, flavorful delightof the sea roach's tail section, I noticed an off flavor, and correctly deduced that this lobster was not a product of the noble atlantic, but instead the trash- fed denizen of some entrepreneur's semi-salinated birthing tanks. MY ire rose within me, and agravated the scaly sores that reside bellow my belt line.
What could I do? My perscription creams and salves all an hour way from my current locale, I made do with what I ha to quell horrible burning that would make Buddha self - flense with a cheese grater should he feel the effects. I dumped the butter down my trousers, and for the moment it helped.
The waiter asked how my meal was, and I told him it was acceptable, but I really did need more butter. It was provided without notice, thank god.
The itching returned, and I repeated the dairy product baptism of my loins.
Flagging the waiter, I requested more butter.
MY stress was rising at this point, exacerbating and enlivening my horrid scabberous lesions, I called after the oblivious maitre-d and inquired if a double portion could be brought. The oblivious fool obliged me, and I once again greased my cursed, turgid nethers, as foul clear efluvia began to run from the enlargening gashes.
About this time, other patrons began to become unnerved. The uncanny smell of my afflication combined with the scent of warmed butter was wafting over them. Appetites were lost.
As time carried on, and my repetitions of suplication to tht snearing aasshole of food service became more apparent, with no corresponding reduciton in my sub - piscine meal, I got up to storm out, gratifying my fellow patrons with a good view of my well lubricated and befouled loins.
As I stormed out as regaly as one can when insulated by such a combintion of semi congealed butter and rancid emission, to the gasps of horror and impotent prayers to god from my turncoat fellow patrons, I began mentally writing my memoir to the disability advocacy groups describing in detil my poor experiennce and asumed degredtion at the hands of this mercilless and nonaccepting provender of seafood.
Quote from: Richter on April 20, 2010, 11:49:53 AM
I ate dinner at Red Lobster last night. I ordered the surf / turf type combo they were offering, and consumed a mediocre steak before begining my work on a lobster that surely flirted with the low end of legal size (I guess the fisheries federales can't be bothered to fuck with the anyone except lobstermen.)
Upon cracking into what I expected to be the crisp, flavorful delightof the sea roach's tail section, I noticed an off flavor, and correctly deduced that this lobster was not a product of the noble atlantic, but instead the trash- fed denizen of some entrepreneur's semi-salinated birthing tanks. MY ire rose within me, and agravated the scaly sores that reside bellow my belt line.
What could I do? My perscription creams and salves all an hour way from my current locale, I made do with what I ha to quell horrible burning that would make Buddha self - flense with a cheese grater should he feel the effects. I dumped the butter down my trousers, and for the moment it helped.
The waiter asked how my meal was, and I told him it was acceptable, but I really did need more butter. It was provided without notice, thank god.
The itching returned, and I repeated the dairy product baptism of my loins.
Flagging the waiter, I requested more butter.
MY stress was rising at this point, exacerbating and enlivening my horrid scabberous lesions, I called after the oblivious maitre-d and inquired if a double portion could be brought. The oblivious fool obliged me, and I once again greased my cursed, turgid nethers, as foul clear efluvia began to run from the enlargening gashes.
About this time, other patrons began to become unnerved. The uncanny smell of my afflication combined with the scent of warmed butter was wafting over them. Appetites were lost.
As time carried on, and my repetitions of suplication to tht snearing aasshole of food service became more apparent, with no corresponding reduciton in my sub - piscine meal, I got up to storm out, gratifying my fellow patrons with a good view of my well lubricated and befouled loins.
As I stormed out as regaly as one can when insulated by such a combintion of semi congealed butter and rancid emission, to the gasps of horror and impotent prayers to god from my turncoat fellow patrons, I began mentally writing my memoir to the disability advocacy groups describing in detil my poor experiennce and asumed degredtion at the hands of this mercilless and nonaccepting provender of seafood.
:aaa:
:mittens:
That was... unnerving, and made better by the evidently inebriated state in which it was written.
Quote from: Richter on April 20, 2010, 11:49:53 AM
I ate dinner at Red Lobster last night. I ordered the surf / turf type combo they were offering, and consumed a mediocre steak before begining my work on a lobster that surely flirted with the low end of legal size (I guess the fisheries federales can't be bothered to fuck with the anyone except lobstermen.)
Upon cracking into what I expected to be the crisp, flavorful delightof the sea roach's tail section, I noticed an off flavor, and correctly deduced that this lobster was not a product of the noble atlantic, but instead the trash- fed denizen of some entrepreneur's semi-salinated birthing tanks. MY ire rose within me, and agravated the scaly sores that reside bellow my belt line.
What could I do? My perscription creams and salves all an hour way from my current locale, I made do with what I ha to quell horrible burning that would make Buddha self - flense with a cheese grater should he feel the effects. I dumped the butter down my trousers, and for the moment it helped.
The waiter asked how my meal was, and I told him it was acceptable, but I really did need more butter. It was provided without notice, thank god.
The itching returned, and I repeated the dairy product baptism of my loins.
Flagging the waiter, I requested more butter.
MY stress was rising at this point, exacerbating and enlivening my horrid scabberous lesions, I called after the oblivious maitre-d and inquired if a double portion could be brought. The oblivious fool obliged me, and I once again greased my cursed, turgid nethers, as foul clear efluvia began to run from the enlargening gashes.
About this time, other patrons began to become unnerved. The uncanny smell of my afflication combined with the scent of warmed butter was wafting over them. Appetites were lost.
As time carried on, and my repetitions of suplication to tht snearing aasshole of food service became more apparent, with no corresponding reduciton in my sub - piscine meal, I got up to storm out, gratifying my fellow patrons with a good view of my well lubricated and befouled loins.
As I stormed out as regaly as one can when insulated by such a combintion of semi congealed butter and rancid emission, to the gasps of horror and impotent prayers to god from my turncoat fellow patrons, I began mentally writing my memoir to the disability advocacy groups describing in detil my poor experiennce and asumed degredtion at the hands of this mercilless and nonaccepting provender of seafood.
:lulz:
I love this shit.
Also, the inexplicable ad at the bottom of the page right now goes with it alarmingly well.
Thankee :lulz:
..I wasn't drunk when I wrote that. It was 6 aM, before coffee, and I was packe into a commuter train PRAYING the uppity dye job high falutin Bostonite that had inadvisably crammed next to me would read over my shoulder and know horror.
Quote from: Richter on April 20, 2010, 08:22:12 PM
Thankee :lulz:
..I wasn't drunk when I wrote that. It was 6 aM, before coffee, and I was packe into a commuter train PRAYING the uppity dye job high falutin Bostonite that had inadvisably crammed next to me would read over my shoulder and know horror.
:mittens:
Did he?
She.
I'll never know for certain, but between the muttering to myself as I assembled my spiel, and tabbing onto blogs regarding law enforcement and promiscuous behavior (for inspiration), something alarmed her. The 30 extra pounds of fake leather jacket torso removed themselves from my shoulder as soon as possible.
Quote from: Remington on April 20, 2010, 06:21:51 AM
Quote from: The Lord and Lady Omnibus Fuck on April 20, 2010, 04:53:11 AM
I kind of want someone to swoop in and take me to red lobster right now.
*Idea* :aaa:
I need another copy of that "amazed at lightbulb" picture. The link went bad, and I need it for Glorious LobsterWOMP NAO. Please to provide?
(http://img682.imageshack.us/img682/2888/lobsterdelivers.png)
Quote from: Remington on April 21, 2010, 04:32:47 AM
Quote from: Remington on April 20, 2010, 06:21:51 AM
Quote from: The Lord and Lady Omnibus Fuck on April 20, 2010, 04:53:11 AM
I kind of want someone to swoop in and take me to red lobster right now.
*Idea* :aaa:
I need another copy of that "amazed at lightbulb" picture. The link went bad, and I need it for Glorious LobsterWOMP NAO. Please to provide?
(http://img682.imageshack.us/img682/2888/lobsterdelivers.png)
AHHHHHhahahahhahahahSQUEEEEEE!!!!
Bump.
Does anyone ever really arrive at Red Lobster? :x
I've been to Red Lobster like, twice in my entire life. And the second time I refused to eat anything. That place is fucking scary. It's like Hotel California with dead sea bugs everywhere.
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on May 15, 2011, 08:09:19 AM
I've been to Red Lobster like, twice in my entire life. And the second time I refused to eat anything. That place is fucking scary. It's like Hotel California with dead sea bugs everywhere.
The Red Lobster which can be dined at is not the
true Red Lobster.
Quote from: Payne on May 15, 2011, 08:19:39 AM
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on May 15, 2011, 08:09:19 AM
I've been to Red Lobster like, twice in my entire life. And the second time I refused to eat anything. That place is fucking scary. It's like Hotel California with dead sea bugs everywhere.
The Red Lobster which can be dined at is not the true Red Lobster.
I believe it.
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on May 15, 2011, 08:21:36 AM
Quote from: Payne on May 15, 2011, 08:19:39 AM
Quote from: Cardinal Pizza Deliverance. on May 15, 2011, 08:09:19 AM
I've been to Red Lobster like, twice in my entire life. And the second time I refused to eat anything. That place is fucking scary. It's like Hotel California with dead sea bugs everywhere.
The Red Lobster which can be dined at is not the true Red Lobster.
I believe it.
I am the Way and the Light. There is no way to Red Lobster but through me.
Quote from: Richter on April 20, 2010, 11:49:53 AM
I ate dinner at Red Lobster last night. I ordered the surf / turf type combo they were offering, and consumed a mediocre steak before begining my work on a lobster that surely flirted with the low end of legal size (I guess the fisheries federales can't be bothered to fuck with the anyone except lobstermen.)
Upon cracking into what I expected to be the crisp, flavorful delightof the sea roach's tail section, I noticed an off flavor, and correctly deduced that this lobster was not a product of the noble atlantic, but instead the trash- fed denizen of some entrepreneur's semi-salinated birthing tanks. MY ire rose within me, and agravated the scaly sores that reside bellow my belt line.
What could I do? My perscription creams and salves all an hour way from my current locale, I made do with what I ha to quell horrible burning that would make Buddha self - flense with a cheese grater should he feel the effects. I dumped the butter down my trousers, and for the moment it helped.
The waiter asked how my meal was, and I told him it was acceptable, but I really did need more butter. It was provided without notice, thank god.
The itching returned, and I repeated the dairy product baptism of my loins.
Flagging the waiter, I requested more butter.
MY stress was rising at this point, exacerbating and enlivening my horrid scabberous lesions, I called after the oblivious maitre-d and inquired if a double portion could be brought. The oblivious fool obliged me, and I once again greased my cursed, turgid nethers, as foul clear efluvia began to run from the enlargening gashes.
About this time, other patrons began to become unnerved. The uncanny smell of my afflication combined with the scent of warmed butter was wafting over them. Appetites were lost.
As time carried on, and my repetitions of suplication to tht snearing aasshole of food service became more apparent, with no corresponding reduciton in my sub - piscine meal, I got up to storm out, gratifying my fellow patrons with a good view of my well lubricated and befouled loins.
As I stormed out as regaly as one can when insulated by such a combintion of semi congealed butter and rancid emission, to the gasps of horror and impotent prayers to god from my turncoat fellow patrons, I began mentally writing my memoir to the disability advocacy groups describing in detil my poor experiennce and asumed degredtion at the hands of this mercilless and nonaccepting provender of seafood.
:x
Quote from: Richter on April 20, 2010, 08:22:12 PM
Thankee :lulz:
..I wasn't drunk when I wrote that. It was 6 aM, before coffee, and I was packe into a commuter train PRAYING the uppity dye job high falutin Bostonite that had inadvisably crammed next to me would read over my shoulder and know horror.
Next time write it in Word, using an extra large font so that people can read from a distance how much you enjoy pouring butter over your scabrous loins.
I feel like me going to Red Lobster would be kinda like someone from China going to the Chinese Buffet down the street.
Though, I don't like sea-food anyway, so I'm already a treasonous Mainer.
You're of Frenchie descent, though, so you're not expected to eat anything besides ham, scrapple, pea soup, and anything you can drown in butter and maple syrup.
Fish don't go well with maple syrup, ergo you are excused for not liking fish.
Wth is Scrapple?
Quote from: *GrumpButt* on May 15, 2011, 07:54:12 PM
Wth is Scrapple?
You don't want to know what Scrapple is. You just eat the stuff in the morning or after drinking all night. Ask. Not. What. It. Is.
Also-Before I fucking die I am motherfucking going to Red Lobster. Period.
Quote from: *GrumpButt* on May 15, 2011, 07:54:12 PM
Wth is Scrapple?
Scrapple is pure awesomeness. Don't read the ingredients, just revel in how good it tastes.
ever since you told me about scrapple i NOTICE IT in the grocery store :argh!:
Ok went and looked at scrapple. Still not as bad as that pig brains mixture they sell in cans down here..
Quote from: Triple Zero on May 15, 2011, 04:07:40 PM
Quote from: Richter on April 20, 2010, 08:22:12 PM
Thankee :lulz:
..I wasn't drunk when I wrote that. It was 6 aM, before coffee, and I was packe into a commuter train PRAYING the uppity dye job high falutin Bostonite that had inadvisably crammed next to me would read over my shoulder and know horror.
Next time write it in Word, using an extra large font so that people can read from a distance how much you enjoy pouring butter over your scabrous loins.
YOU COULD DILATE A URETHRA WITH THAT POST BECAUSE IT IS SOUND ADVICE.
SOUNDING IS FUCKING HAWT. THAT'S THE ONLY PORN I WATCH.
They don't seem to sell scrapple out here, and that makes me sad.
I think you can get it at Otto's. I'll check next time I'm there, which is all the fucking time because Otto's is fucking AWESOME.
Quote from: Rip City Hustle on May 21, 2011, 04:44:09 PM
I think you can get it at Otto's. I'll check next time I'm there, which is all the fucking time because Otto's is fucking AWESOME.
YAY!
Wow, you know what's weird? I forgot all about Otto's. Like, that it ever existed. Wiped out a large portion of my wooing of Husband #2... I used to take him there for sandwiches when he was the editor of a local paper and I was concerned that he would starve to death. In return, he would take me to all the shows he got free tickets to, and occasional restaurants neither of us could afford otherwise. He used to refer to me as his punk rock girlfriend.
Wow.