the poster formerly known as cappy wrote:Slick was hittin' the Malibu last night:
Slicker wrote:Are you gay? For real? You're the only person I know of that TRIES soooooo hard to make it seem like he's boning females that it seems like you're trying too hard to be a false-straight guy.
You're a great guy, Josh. Seriously, but either you pull in more pu**y than ANYBODY or you LOVE the c**k. I'm just sayin...
I provided the first part only for context, as its the second little bit that had me absolutely DYING!
In case you didn't know, that last post was a highly drunken one as well.
If you're wonderin' why it's got good grammar it's because I'm OCD like no other and it took about 20 minutes to post each of these to get 'em right...
Where was that originally posted? Don't tell me at the other site? or is there no original? Either way,
EDIT: Nevermind, I found it.
"Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery."
Sleazer wrote:Where was the original ? And Slick how do you post so cleanly while drunk ?
When I get blitzed I find that I can't type very well...
The original can be found at the other site in the CB - Avatar Disc.
I can usually type/post relatively good while drunk although I try not to; probably end up saying some stupid shit that would get me banned, or something that I would regret the next day. If my post occurs after 3:00am Eastern Time, it is probably a drunken post.
"Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery."
Sleazer wrote:Where was the original ? And Slick how do you post so cleanly while drunk ?
When I get blitzed I find that I can't type very well...
Like I said, it probably took me about 20 minutes of typing half of it then seeing a misspelling and since I was drunk that meant that I had to delete everything instead of just that word.
UKWildcat wrote:
I can usually type/post relatively good while drunk although I try not to; probably end up saying some stupid shit that would get me banned, or something that I would regret the next day. If my post occurs after 3:00am Eastern Time, it is probably a drunken post.
I probably should've been banned for a bit with a personal attack like that. Meh!
BumCake wrote:No fucking shit Clive Owen is a dreamboat. My God. If that man were to show up at my doorstep and ask for anal sex, I would do it. I am not lying.
If Clive Owen showed up at my door and didn't even say anything, I would still offer anal sex to him. Hell, I would even give him the priviledge of giving me the enema before he destroys my anus with his pink torpedo. He'll fit me like a flesh tuxedo.
*--For behavior unbecoming anyone, perpetrated in real time over an extended--AH, FUCK IT! MORE MALIBU, BITCHES!!
UKWildcat wrote:If my post occurs after 3:00am Eastern Time, it is probably a drunken post.
Just noticed I joined this place at 3:14 am... you can probably see where I am going with this...
"Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery."
