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A Thread Of Pure Drivel
Topic Started: May 7 2006, 10:10 PM (4,820 Views)
JeffLynnesBeard
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Mary Poppins marched down the avenue astride a burning perambulator. 'Lawks Alordy!', proclaimed Bert, the transvestite chimney sweep, 'Doing my job in high-heels and a pink tutu sure does make my job harder - and this thong is cutting into me like cheese wire!'. Mary, quite disgusted by the fake cockney accent, inserted her umbrella into her right nostril and exhaled pure nitrogen. 'Well, there's no need to be like that', Bert snorted, utterly nauseated. A passing chipmunk agreed and feasted upon skin flakes from a gnu.

'What fun and adventures we could have in Narnia', remarked Susan, 'if it wasn't for the Republican party spoiling all of our recreational drug taking!'. Aslan nodded sleepily, high on opium and stuffed full of Cheetos. Yes, things really had changed at Disneyland - and nobody concurred unanimously that eggs were blue.
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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FamousGroupie
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YAY! I'm glad to see the resurrection of this thread. I will contribute when I'm feeling more creative. :P
I don't believe in Bondi. I don't believe in rugby league. I believe in Yoko, John Lennon, the Lost Weekend and me.
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Merry
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Ahh...three cheers for the continuation of the "Drivel" thread, she exclaimed as she gnawed on her knuckles and turned a lovely shade of lilac. ;)


:) Merry


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JeffLynnesBeard
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Oddness is a state only achieved whilst totally oblivious to fried chicken in all of it's natural glory. Southern Fried coating actually tastes better on live goats - try it! You won't be disappointed although the goat my disapprove and bite. All rights are reserved - as well as the seat next to me, so don't even think about it Buddy - she's just dashed to get some popcorn and to powder her nose. Strange. Every time she goes to powder her nose, her nose never has powder on it. In fact, she's been lying to me for years about this stuff. What else has she been lying about? If she can fob me off with untruths all of this time... can you ever trust someone?

OhmyGod... perhaps she's not really getting popcorn. Perhaps she's having a secret rendezvous with a tall, dark, exotic man... who has a large, oiled moustache, piston-like hips and a smile to light up Broadway! Perhaps she's plotting to run away with him to the dark moutains of Peru to raise meerkats? Perhaps she's never going to return and I'm going to have to watch Police Academy 53: Most Of Us Have Died alone? Perhaps I'm destined to be alone for the rest of my life from this moment on? Oh God... Fiona... Fiona! Why? Why? WHY???

As soon as this movie is over, I think I'm going to end it all. There's no point left for me if I'm going to live and die alone, probably existing on microwave meals and powdered soup for the rest of my horrible existence, being that musty old man who children make fun of... and when they predicatably egg my window, I'll run out with my walking stick, shaking my gnarled fist at them... and then involuntarily urinate in my trousers. I'll be a figure of fun... and I can't bear that thought. Nope, that's it. After this movie, I'm going home to...

Oh - no, here she is with the popcorn. I hope she got butter. I like butter. ^_^
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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Emilee
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BOO!

This thread sounds like my kind of cucumber.. :blink:
I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine.
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Isn't it funny how we take our human senses in life for granted? How do we know for a fact that the colors one person sees isn't really different colors to someone else? What I see as red could be green to someone else, and what is green to that person may be yellow to the next, and so forth. Similarly, how do we know our taste-buds act in accordance with everyone elses? What tastes like an apple to you could taste like a raisin to someone else, and so on. Naturally, I could go down the line with all of them, but what really has me the most perplexed and suspicious is how we hear and listen to music. A pleasant melody to some people has been proven through the ages to be unpleasant to others. We know, of course, that music is subjectionable with many variables which the listener is to be inspired - still, when one person loves Rap, and at the same time loathes Paul McCartney, I have to wonder: Are these people seeing the same blues, greens and reds as I am? Perhaps, it's not what our senses sense, since they sense sensitivities, in a sense, which we can't sense their better sense, but, how we sense, since we sense sensual sensitivities in a sensitized sense, which, since sense was sensory sense, we sense our senses to a better sense at every sense we sense. This can't be sensored in any sense, nor would it make sense to the sensory sense of the sensual part of all senses - now and forever, within our human conditioning.

••• This message has been underwritten by the Council for the Mentally Scarred, CMS, (pronounced Cum Mess), (depending on your vices and how hard you play with them) •••
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JeffLynnesBeard
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Cord
May 10 2006, 02:42 AM
Isn't it funny how we take our human senses in life for granted? How do we know for a fact that the colors one person sees isn't really different colors to someone else? What I see as red could be green to someone else, and what is green to that person may be yellow to the next, and so forth. Similarly, how do we know our taste-buds act in accordance with everyone elses? What tastes like an apple to you could taste like a raisin to someone else, and so on. Naturally, I could go down the line with all of them, but what really has me the most perplexed and suspicious is how we hear and listen to music. A pleasant melody to some people has been proven through the ages to be unpleasant to others. We know, of course, that music is subjectionable with many variables which the listener is to be inspired - still, when one person loves Rap, and at the same time loathes Paul McCartney, I have to wonder: Are these people seeing the same blues, greens and reds as I am? Perhaps, it's not what our senses sense, since they sense sensitivities, in a sense, which we can't sense their better sense, but, how we sense, since we sense sensual sensitivities in a sensitized sense, which, since sense was sensory sense, we sense our senses to a better sense at every sense we sense. This can't be sensored in any sense, nor would it make sense to the sensory sense of the sensual part of all senses - now and forever, within our human conditioning.

••• This message has been underwritten by the Council for the Mentally Scarred, CMS, (pronounced Cum Mess), (depending on your vices and how hard you play with them) •••

To me, that isn't drivel - that's quite profound. B)
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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Emilee
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JeffLynnesBeard
May 10 2006, 06:44 AM
Cord
May 10 2006, 02:42 AM
Isn't it funny how we take our human senses in life for granted? How do we know for a fact that the  colors one person sees isn't really different colors to someone else? What I see as red could be green to someone else, and what is green to that person may be yellow to the next, and so forth. Similarly, how do we know our taste-buds act in accordance with everyone elses? What tastes like an apple to you could taste like a raisin to someone else, and so on. Naturally, I could go down the line with all of them, but what really has me the most perplexed and suspicious is how we hear and listen to music. A pleasant melody to some people has been proven through the ages to be unpleasant to others. We know, of course, that music is subjectionable with many variables which the listener is to be inspired - still, when one person loves Rap, and at the same time loathes Paul McCartney, I have to wonder: Are these people seeing the same blues, greens and reds as I am? Perhaps, it's not what our senses sense, since they sense sensitivities, in a sense, which we can't sense their better sense, but, how we sense, since we sense sensual sensitivities in a sensitized sense, which, since sense was sensory sense, we sense our senses to a better sense at every sense we sense. This can't be sensored in any sense, nor would it make sense to the sensory sense of the sensual part of all senses - now and forever, within our human conditioning.

••• This message has been underwritten by the Council for the Mentally Scarred, CMS, (pronounced Cum Mess), (depending on your vices and how hard you play with them)  •••

To me, that isn't drivel - that's quite profound. B)

I agree.
I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine.
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Emilee
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Shakespeare - A Legacy

Shakespeare was a fine man, an honest man (actually I don’t know I never met the guy). He hath achieved many things in his life, his proudest achievement would of course be the boring legacy of his writing, still haunting and rotting the minds of children and adults alike. It also seems that he was a talented square dancer and stamp collector, one of his lesser known loves would be ice skating on the river Thames.

He was born in the ripe old county of California, England, where the cherry trees blossom and the tangerines smell like sweet body odour. His home was situated amongst the mourning pines of Stratford-Upon-Avon.

Between the long years of 1590 and 1613, he is attributed with writing 38 plays, 154 sonnets and 5 other poems (gee, his social life must’ve been thriving). It also seems that he had a feisty love affair with Queen Victoria, but settled down to domesticated life with Anne Hathaway.

He was a lean, mean breeding machine and had many illegitimate children – thirty six to be exact, namely, Oswald, Bernard, Annie, Gertude, Edwina, William the 2nd, William the 3rd, William-the-tonka-truck, Peter, Deirdre and Mary, Erin, Emilee and Caitlin, Joseph, Jesiah, John and Jill, Bernita, Bonnita, Fred, Anne, Helen, Huckleberry, Judeith, Clover, Judas, Bessie, Anne, Bolelyn, Gloriana, Cleopatra, Antony, Caesar, Phinnaeus, Hazel, Agnetha, Freda, Bjorn and Benny.

Many of these children survived to live a happy existence in the slums of England. A few of them grew to stardom through acting and singing (William the 2nd in particular is famous for a raging affair with the at-the-time betrothed Merylin Monro). To his wifey, Anne he had two children, one in which he wrote the musical “Rocky Horror Picture Show” about, which was his eldest son, Hamnet. Several years later Anne popped out four more children in record time, John, Paul, George and Ringo.

[To be continued, when the author isn't preoccupied flossing her buttermilk]
I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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Excellent! :lol:

I never knew that about Billy S... and I grew up only a few miles away from where he did too - and only three centuries apart. :P
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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I don't like being alone, but I don't really like being with anyone either - so what can I do to solve this pickle? Actually, can a pickle ever be solved? Dissolved, maybe, with plenty of carrot juice, elephant's semen and brown sugar, but solved? I doubt it highly - and lowly - and at sea level. Only by someone who doesn't know the secret of the infamous wool muffler, I'd wager to bet my life, Mama.

I saw a polar bear the other day. He didn't see me. I got immense satisfaction from that.
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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ANYONE WHO HAS A ZEBRA PENIS IS PROBABLY A ZEBRA.
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Emilee
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My semi-incontinent brother just ate the last termite infested strawberry.

Damn morphodite :angry:
I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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Eating pickled onions, sitting on a sleigh,
I tickled your aardvark but you didn't look my way.
Even though I've expanded, you still don't sneeze on me,
You just stand there melting whilst drinking purple tea.
Vitamin suppositories can help you - unless you're not quite insane,
I always feel better when you smile and your parrot licks my brain.
For each of us are British! Apart from those who are not,
And now I shall depart! I hear my Grecian monkey pulsating in a cot.
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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Emilee
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Aaah! I've been waiting for the revival of this llama's undergarments.

Sweet, sweet dribble.
I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine.
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Emilee
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Aaargh. Me eggache. Too much urple passona and coozers.

I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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What am I doing here? I can't focus... the pavement is made from marshmallows and the sky from warm gaseous Coca-Cola... the birds are all talking Hebrew and the people passing by view me with scorn usually reserved for hermaphrodites on holiday. The buzzing of a rattlesnake's wings pierces my consciousness, like fifteen school children all playing musical instruments for the very first time and I can't get out of here because, no matter how fast I try to run, my elbows remain flaccid and my knees have joined a Hare Krishna sect.

It all started when I put butter on my bagel and, defying the world order on bread products (it should have been cream cheese - I know that now! Alas, too late, too late...) the horned sentries barged into my home and took me away, stuffing my cheeks with pencil shavings as they went. I thought cholesterol was my most serious problem, but that was before I was delivered into the kingdom of the dairy product criminal. How was I to know, damnit? How do I repent and gain my salvation? Must I always be damned and destined to hover here in some confectionist's wet dream or is there some way I could attach a vaccum cleaner to my genitals and escape? Thoughts to ponder upon, my demented white frog, thoughts to ponder upon.

The foolish man builds his house upon the sand. That's what grandmother taught me. That and how to cheat at Poker. What does it all mean? What can it mean? I'm not sure. Are you? Why aren't you replying to me? Why are you just reading this and not helping me? Mother.... Mother! Why do they call egg plants aubergines in Europe and yet they can't make a decent garment of underwear from recycled tofu? Enough of such reckless philosophy, I have work to do. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait... I'm coming back - I'm coming back... that floating feeling is evaporating (leaving a sticky residue behind, but it matters not) and I'm... I'm... back! Yes - I'm home! It was all just a hallucination. Or was it? I appear to have little bits of marshmallow on my slippers! Oh, no... sorry - they're just stains from where my dog decided to hump my leg.

Jesus, that coffee was strong. Perhaps I should try decaffinated in future.
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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Merry
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Great Andy...now I have something to think about and get a good chuckle from as I drag my aching patooty out the door to my drudge work.

Love seeing you back doing what you do so well, thank you! :)

Please continue to put it all together and submit it, she screamed uselessly into the void! :lol:


:) Merry


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JeffLynnesBeard
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There I was, in my deep-sea diving suit ready to clean the shower, when all of a sudden there was a knock on the door. I looked through the spy-hole and... I couldn't believe it! It was the man I'd been having a red-hot love affair with on the internet for many months and - there he was! - standing on my doormat clutching a bottle of dark rum and a box of cigars. My mother had warned me against falling for Fidel Castro, but I'd always had a thing for unkempt beards and aging communist dictators. I looked at my calendar and there, clear as crystal, it was... "Fidel coming - do not clean shower today!". I'd forgotten! Damn it! Now what was I to do?

Absent-mindedness is an awful thing. Have you ever woken up in the morning to find that you've put the cat in the fridge and let the butter out for the night? My cat hasn't spoken to me for a long time now. Still, it's better than what happened to the dog... I knew I'd had one of my terrible episodes when I noticed the ready-basted oven-ready chicken on the end of the leash halfway to the newsagents, then I came to the dreadful realization as to what was really in the oven. It was horrible... well, maybe not horrible but tough, odd-tasting and - what's worse - I couldn't find a suitable gravy.

So what did I do? I did what any sensible, respectable English girl would do - I made a cup of tea, broken open a packet of chocolate biscuits and watched Big Brother whilst Fidel cleaned the shower. If he's a good little dictator I may let him point his Cuban missile at me later! Just goes to show - if you count your chickens before they're hatched, then you get tempted to make an omelette. ^_^
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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Emilee
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:lol: :lol: Fabulous!!
I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine.
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Emilee
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Im So Postmodern - The Bedroom Philosopher

I'm so postmodern that I just don't talk anymore,
I wear different coloured t-shirts according to my mood.

I'm so postmodern that I work from home
as a surf life saving consumer hotline.

I'm so postmodern that all my clothes are made out of sleeping bags,
I don't need pockets, I'm a pocket myself.

I'm so postmodern I go to parties I'm not invited to
and locate the vegemite and write my name on everyone.

I'm so postmodern that I write reviews for funerals,
and heckle at weddings from inside a suitcase.

I'm so postmodern I'm going to adopt a child,
and teach him how to knit, and call him Adolf Diggler.

I'm so postmodern that I breakdance in waiting rooms,
play Yahtzee in nightclubs, at three in the afternoon.

I'm so postmodern I only go on dates that last thirteen minutes,
via walky talky, while hiding under the bed.

I'm so postmodern I invite strangers to my house,
and put on a slide show of other people's nans.

I'm so postmodern I went home and typed up everything you said,
and printed it out in wingdings, and gave it back to you.

I'm so postmodern I held an art exhibition -
a Chuppa Chup stuck to a swimming cap, and no one was invited.

I'm so postmodern I make alphabet soup,
and dye it purple, and pour it on the lawn.

I'm so postmodern I request Hey Mona on karaoke,
then sing my life story to the tune of My Sharona.

I'm so postmodern I only think in palendromic haikus -
Madam, I gleneg, Im Adam!

I'm so postmodern that I sit down to wee,
and stand up to poo, at job interviews.

I'm so postmodern that I dress up as Santa,
in the middle of August, and haunt golf courses.

I'm so postmodern that I cut off all my hair,
and knitted it into a beanie, and threw it off a bridge.

I'm so postmodern that I stole everyone's mail,
and cut them up into a ransom note and hid it in a thermos.

I'm so postmodern I take my leggo to the supermarket
and build my own shopping trolley, and only buy one nut.

I'm so postmodern I wrote a letter to the council -
...I think it was 'M.'

I'm so postmodern I bought a round the world plane ticket,
and stuffed my clothes with eggplant and pretended it was me.

I'm so postmodern I've got a tattoo of my pin number
in heiroglyphics on my neighbour's guide dog.

I'm so postmodern I fought my way into parliament,
and made a law banning Nuttelex, and then moved to Spain.

I'm so postmodern that I iron all my lettuce leaves,
put my shirts in the crisper - they're real crisp.

I'm so postmodern I give live mice to buskers,
dirty tea towels to the Mormons, and pavlova to crabs.

I'm so postmodern that I live in a tent,
on a platform of skateboards that's tied to a tram.

I'm so postmodern I write four thousand-word essays
on the cultural significance of party pies.

I'm so postmodern I recite Shakespeare at KFC drive thru's,
through a megaphone, in sign language.

I'm so postmodern I'm going to watch the Olympics
on a black & white TV, with the sound down.

I'm so postmodern I go to the gym after hours,
push up against the door, then cry myself to sleep.

I'm so postmodern I wrote a trilogy of novels
from the perspective of a possum that Jesus patted once.

I'm so postmodern that I marry all my friends,
soak myself in metho, and tell them that they've changed.

I'm so postmodern I bought every book written in 1963
as a reading challenge, and clogged up a waterslide.

I'm so postmodern I think I might be a god
in my undies rolling in sugar, in the carpark of a rodeo.

I'm so postmodern I prerecorded this song,
and laced a message subliminally telling Shane Porteous to buy a smock.

I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine.
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Bill
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Cuppa, that was brilliant! :sick: <- that's a po-mo laugh.
Put a puppet on it.
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Emilee
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Bill
May 27 2006, 01:37 PM
Cuppa, that was brilliant! :sick: <- that's a po-mo laugh.

Of course ^_^. I cannot take credit for it though, they are lyrics by a folk/comedy act "The Bedroom Philosopher", but im pretty sure it classifies as Pure Drivel ;)
I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine.
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Emilee
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My poor toe fungus is suffering from incontinence. I hope she recovers in time for Siesta at my estranged next door neighbours mudhut. My crazy-deranged cat lady never ceases to smell of cheap shoe polish.
I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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For cleaner, whiter teeth, try sulphuric acid in a can. You'll have no gums left, but your teeth will be beautiful. Britney Spears swears by it. "Bollocks!" she says, twice daily - but only two times on a weekday. Quick! If you pick up the phone right now, shout "I have a moist peacock!" into the receiver three times then you will be showered with riches... or moist peacocks, I forget which.
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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Merry
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:lol:

Satisfaction guarenteed...you too can sing JUST like Britney Spears, when you use Sulphuric Acid In A Can! (Also available in fruity gargle.)

Very cute, Andy! ;)


:) Merry


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BeatleBarb
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Andy, I'm laughing like a crazy person here. The bit about Castro...I'm dying here...got to show someone at work this.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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BeatleBarb
Jun 1 2006, 03:06 PM
Andy, I'm laughing like a crazy person here. The bit about Castro...I'm dying here...got to show someone at work this.

I'm pleased you like it, Barb - it's all worth it if I made someone laugh! :D

Thanks too, Merry. ^_^
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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youngformyage
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My football shaped teacup rolled off the table and scored an own goal.
Posted Image
'I'm dead on the surface but I'm screaming underneath' - Coldplay<a href='http://eapr-1/@0@Sam%28antha%29@1@On%20the%20footplate%20of%20the%20Black%20Five@' target='_blank'></a>
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JeffLynnesBeard
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"Stop I say, for this is the King's Highway!", I proclaimed in my most booming and commanding voice, "For thou shalt not pass until thou payest half of your worldly worth in taxes!". The peasants stared at me in fear and wonder as the leader of the men I was addressing advanced upon me with fire in his eyes. "Sir", he quibbled, dressed from head to foot in red with shining gold buttons emblazened with a crest not belonging to the King, "This is the lobby of the Ritz hotel in London, England. If you wouldn't mind kindly buggering off, it would be very much appreciated."

I kindly buggered off. I knew when I wasn't wanted.
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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FamousGroupie
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Obsessive Saddo Fangirl
New Theme Song for Australian Tourism

Redback, Funnelweb, Blue Ringed Octopus
Taipan, Tigersnake and a Box Jellyfish
Big shark waiting for you to go swimming
At Bondi Beach....

Come to Australia
You might accidentally get killed.
I don't believe in Bondi. I don't believe in rugby league. I believe in Yoko, John Lennon, the Lost Weekend and me.
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Emilee
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Ahh! I heard that on an add once - two comedians. I can't memba their names now.. :lol:
I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine.
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FamousGroupie
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Emilee
Jun 19 2006, 06:54 PM
Ahh! I heard that on an add once - two comedians. I can't memba their names now.. :lol:

The Scared Weird Little Guys. They're hysterical.
I don't believe in Bondi. I don't believe in rugby league. I believe in Yoko, John Lennon, the Lost Weekend and me.
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Emilee
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Aaaah thats it. Fabulous :lol:
I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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It happened on a pitch black, bitterly cold night where the rain was so hard, it looked like lace in the sky making random vulgar patterns in front of the moon which, despite efforts to the contrary, could not reflect any light from the hidden sun onto the doomed planet. "Why was the sun hidden?" you may ask. Some may say that the sun was cowering in fright from the predetermined horrors, half-salivating in tortured anticipation of the forthcoming events. Others say that it was night time and the sun was shining on the other side of the world, stupid. I don't pretend to know who was right, wrong or a natural blonde, but I do know this - you shouldn't make gravy from random shovels of silt and mud, no matter how dry your vegetables are.

Just as the clock struck Fourteen O'Clock (the strangely named Irishman understandably struck the clock back several times whilst their screaming friends called the police) the surface water of the Atlantic Ocean began to bubble and boil and, onto the shores of Ilfracombe, Devon, England, all of the fish, one-by-one, started to drag themselves out of the sea, clutching weaponry... anything they could salvage and adapt from the sea. The fish, of all colours, shapes and size were a frightening sight - tatooed and merciless. It was evident this was an act of aggresion, a statement of pure evil intent, as they swarmed all over the North Devon coast, like acne on a teenager.

The post office was the first building to fall to the fish. Mr. Groggins, the sub-postmaster awoke to find a halibut with a harpoon tying him to the bed whilst a rather attractive tuna was taking the keys to the safe from his jacket pocket. He screamed in horror as he saw his wife flailing, pounding the bed, suffocating whilst a shivering jellyfish smothered her face. It was clear that the fish meant business - as they used the money from the post office to buy stocks and shares online in the internet cafe. Nowhere was safe from the piscine plunderers - people were rounded up by shoals of cod and forced into the aquarium so that the fish could watch them swim round and round for their own amusement. The fish and chip shop was turned into a human and chip shop where a team of enterprising herring battered & deep-fried the more tender of the town, served them with freshly made chips and sold them to the carnivorous sharks for a tidy profit.

What did the police and army do about this? Bugger all, if you must ask. It wasn't London, so they didn't care. The fish still have Ilfracombe to this day and, apart from the smell, most of the holidaymakers don't seem to notice. The fish, so entranced by capitalism, now welcome humans into their town in the summer months and they take their money, rather than their lives. Most of the time. How do I know this, you may ask - well, it's simple. I'm an interplanetary being with unlimited powers, but misuse them by cheating at Blackjack.
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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BeatleBarb
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Oh my God Andy....you've gotten inside my head....that's my fish nightmare I have all the time. By the way, I love this piece.

Have you ever read Flan, by Stephen Tunney? A story about a young man and his talking fish, Ginger Kang Kang.
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BeatleBarb
Jul 8 2006, 05:46 PM
Oh my God Andy....you've gotten inside my head....that's my fish nightmare I have all the time. By the way, I love this piece.

Have you ever read Flan, by Stephen Tunney? A story about a young man and his talking fish, Ginger Kang Kang.

:D No... but I'd like to! :P
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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I have a question. Why do people go through years of veterinary college and dedicate their lives to animals, just to give it up and go serve in the armed forces? I see them all the time - Vietnam vets... Gulf War vets... Falklands vets... it just makes no sense. Some of them have real problems too - I mean, it can't be fun spending most of your life with your arms up a cow's backside, but it has to be better than being shot at and developing Gulf War syndrome.

Ice is fearsome - except when it's in Coca-Cola, then it's highly sexual. I applaud those who catch insects instead of killing them as long as they don't have intercourse with them before they are released, in which case I believe they should be stoned to death with ripe plums whilst dancing a quick waltz and grinning iridescently. Either way, it's your mayonnaise and you can do with it as you please - it's nothing to do with me, mate.

Still, how I love you! You are as sweet as a radiant global pigment on a Friday, even if you can't reach the ketchup when I ask. I love you when the sun comes up and pretends to be a small impala, I love you when my cup explodes with all the friction of housework... but most of all, I love you because you don't expect me to wash regularly. That's very important when discovering your inner hockey player - he resides within each and every one of us.

Eat cereal - it's good for you.
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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You sexy genius.
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BeatleBarb
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Crazy man....you crack me up everytime :lol:
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Emilee
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Aah, my favourite thread. Smells like hoome..
I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine.
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Fry
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It was a coldish warm night, when the dolphin appeared in the high street. He floated there for a while before drifing along on the breeze. "Hello Mr Dolphin" I said, presuming of course he name was Mr Dolphin. "My name is Sarah", he replied in a rather taciturn manner. Also I noticed that the dolphin was indeed a he ( he was smoking a pipe and wearing a hat). "Hey you can't be called Sarah, You're a male dolphin" I told him. It was a around this point that the shark appeared also floating on the breeze. The shark was wearing a pink tutu, and had a I love dolphins (raw) t-shirt. I told Mr Dol....sorry Sarah, to run quickly because of the shark. Sarah said it was all academic because she had no legs and couldn't run. Then Mr Sharky ( as it turned out was his name) asked for directions to the National Film Theatre to see the Woody Allen retrospective. I showed him the way and he happily left. The Sarah disappeared, and then I was no longer on the high street. I was on the moon! Also with me were lots of little green men who had apparently lost their way on the way back from a day trip from Mars. Then one of them came up to me and punched me in the head. Everything went black and when I awoke it was still in complete darkness. Then the lights came on and I found, to my horror, that i was on the Jerry Springer show trying to convince my imaginary friend that it was wrong to have sex with furniture. The audience booed and hissed then I got into a fight with a pot plant named Kenneth and round about this point I noticed there was a small hole in the floor. I jumped at the hole and the world disappeared around me. I found myself floating through a misty blacky sort of greeny reddishness that also had tints of blue. I kept falling until I was picked up on the Benfleet roundabout and th horse driving said to me " I can take you as far as Canvey". So in I jumped. As i did the horse told me that nothing here was real, it was all in my imagination. To prove a point I imagined a large ice-cream in my hand. Poof, there it was. The horse ordered me to get out of his car because horses find ice-cream offensive. I looked around. I was somewhere familiar, but where. I looked again. "Ah Ha" I exclaimed. I was back on the high street. It seemed sort of coldish warm, when suddenly a dolphin appeared............

Is that drivel enough??
"Wait a second! I'm getting an idea! Ye, no, false alarm, no, yeah, no, yeah, no, wait, no, yeah, yeah, no, no, yes!"
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Riddle Of The Day

"My first is in Apple and Obelisk, but not in testes,
My last is in India, swimming butt deep in the Ganges,
My ninth contains flashing images unsuitable for those with photo-sensitive epilepsy.
My whole is a single pubic hair in an ice-cube floating in my diet Pepsi."

Can you solve this?

Answers on a post card to;

Mr. P. Bridgewaterer,
21 Profanity Lane,
Wankstain Village,
Feck! Feck! Feck! Feck!
ENGLAND.
Great Tit-an.

The first 50 entries drawn out of Mr. Bridgewaterer's soiled underwear will be used as lavatory paper. The next one after that will be the winner and will receive a used peanut. (One careful owner, restrictions apply.)
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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Fry
Jul 20 2006, 07:50 PM
It was a coldish warm night, when the dolphin appeared in the high street.  He floated there for a while before drifing along on the breeze.  "Hello Mr Dolphin" I said, presuming of course he name was Mr Dolphin.  "My name is Sarah", he replied in a rather taciturn manner.  Also I noticed that the dolphin was indeed a he ( he was smoking a pipe and wearing a hat).  "Hey you can't be called Sarah, You're a male dolphin" I told him.  It was a around this point that the shark appeared also floating on the breeze.  The shark was wearing a pink tutu, and had a I love dolphins (raw) t-shirt.    I told Mr Dol....sorry Sarah, to run quickly because of the shark. Sarah said it was all academic because she had no legs and couldn't run.  Then Mr Sharky ( as it turned out was his name) asked for directions to the National Film Theatre to see the Woody Allen retrospective.  I showed him the way and he happily left.  The Sarah disappeared, and then I was no longer on the high street.  I was on the moon!  Also with me were lots of little green men who had apparently lost their way on the way back from a day trip from Mars.  Then one of them came up to me and punched me in the head.  Everything went black and when I awoke it was still in complete darkness.  Then the lights came on and I found, to my horror, that i was on the Jerry Springer show trying to convince my imaginary friend that it was wrong to have sex with furniture.  The audience booed and hissed then I got into a fight with a pot plant named Kenneth and round about this point I noticed there was a small hole in the floor.  I jumped at the hole and the world disappeared around me.  I found myself floating through a misty blacky sort of greeny reddishness that also had tints of blue.  I kept falling until I was picked up on the Benfleet roundabout and th horse driving said to me " I can take you as far as Canvey".  So in I jumped.  As i did the horse told me that nothing here was real, it was all in my imagination.  To prove a point I imagined a large ice-cream in my hand.  Poof, there it was.  The horse ordered me to get out of his car because horses find ice-cream offensive.  I looked around.  I was somewhere familiar, but where.  I looked again.  "Ah Ha" I exclaimed.  I was back on the high street.  It seemed sort of coldish warm, when suddenly a dolphin appeared............

Is that drivel enough??

No, it has to be fertilized first, before Tuesday crosses the bridge into the onion field. After that, it's all yours! :D
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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Fry
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JeffLynnesBeard
Jul 20 2006, 09:11 PM
Fry
Jul 20 2006, 07:50 PM
It was a coldish warm night, when the dolphin appeared in the high street.  He floated there for a while before drifing along on the breeze.  "Hello Mr Dolphin" I said, presuming of course he name was Mr Dolphin.  "My name is Sarah", he replied in a rather taciturn manner.  Also I noticed that the dolphin was indeed a he ( he was smoking a pipe and wearing a hat).  "Hey you can't be called Sarah, You're a male dolphin" I told him.  It was a around this point that the shark appeared also floating on the breeze.  The shark was wearing a pink tutu, and had a I love dolphins (raw) t-shirt.    I told Mr Dol....sorry Sarah, to run quickly because of the shark. Sarah said it was all academic because she had no legs and couldn't run.  Then Mr Sharky ( as it turned out was his name) asked for directions to the National Film Theatre to see the Woody Allen retrospective.  I showed him the way and he happily left.  The Sarah disappeared, and then I was no longer on the high street.  I was on the moon!  Also with me were lots of little green men who had apparently lost their way on the way back from a day trip from Mars.  Then one of them came up to me and punched me in the head.  Everything went black and when I awoke it was still in complete darkness.  Then the lights came on and I found, to my horror, that i was on the Jerry Springer show trying to convince my imaginary friend that it was wrong to have sex with furniture.  The audience booed and hissed then I got into a fight with a pot plant named Kenneth and round about this point I noticed there was a small hole in the floor.  I jumped at the hole and the world disappeared around me.  I found myself floating through a misty blacky sort of greeny reddishness that also had tints of blue.  I kept falling until I was picked up on the Benfleet roundabout and th horse driving said to me " I can take you as far as Canvey".  So in I jumped.  As i did the horse told me that nothing here was real, it was all in my imagination.  To prove a point I imagined a large ice-cream in my hand.  Poof, there it was.  The horse ordered me to get out of his car because horses find ice-cream offensive.  I looked around.  I was somewhere familiar, but where.  I looked again.  "Ah Ha" I exclaimed.  I was back on the high street.  It seemed sort of coldish warm, when suddenly a dolphin appeared............

Is that drivel enough??

No, it has to be fertilized first, before Tuesday crosses the bridge into the onion field. After that, it's all yours! :D

That's good in the old day's it had to be rewritten in triplicate, posted through the nasal cavity of an Okapi, stamped by imps before finally being used to wipe the sphinx's nose. Thank goodness those dark times are behind us.
"Wait a second! I'm getting an idea! Ye, no, false alarm, no, yeah, no, yeah, no, wait, no, yeah, yeah, no, no, yes!"
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Fry
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"Spoosh, Spoosh, Spoosh" yelled Celia as she shoved a lizard into each top hat, but Derek was in no mood for Swedish volleyball that day. He swore to himself that if his wife came home again dressed as a Russian borderguard again he would tell the monopolies commision who had really been been putting pencils into the avocado dip. Then the cream pies would really hit the fan.
"Wait a second! I'm getting an idea! Ye, no, false alarm, no, yeah, no, yeah, no, wait, no, yeah, yeah, no, no, yes!"
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BeatleBarb
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Fry
Jul 23 2006, 12:17 PM
"Spoosh, Spoosh, Spoosh" yelled Celia as she shoved a lizard into each top hat, but Derek was in no mood for Swedish volleyball that day. He swore to himself that if his wife came home again dressed as a Russian borderguard again he would tell the monopolies commision who had really been been putting pencils into the avocado dip. Then the cream pies would really hit the fan.

Fantastic....another lunatic.

I think I saw the movie. :hyper:
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JeffLynnesBeard
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"There have been certain errors regarding your omelette", the chef informed the rather important diner, "in that I used apricots instead of eggs and froze it instead of cooking it." The Rt. Honorable Lord Benjamin Frogtrousers scowled at the man dressed as a spring pomegranate. "You mean to say that instead of a mushroom omelette", he thundered, "you're serving me frozen apricots?". The chef smirked and belched Pachabel's Canon. "That's correct, sir", he hummed and sniffed the bottom of a greyhound who just happened to be trotting by.

The VIP stood up, violently, throwing his chair backwards into the stomach of a gnu who was the maitre d' for the evening, and jarred the table, disturbing the contents of his plate so deeply it had to see a psychiatrist for two years and only stopped treatment when the consultations became too expensive. People say that the frozen apricots will never quite recover from the experience and will always suffer from the bouts of thinking that they are Napoleon Bonaparte. They're a little less frozen these days as well and that doesn't exactly help with their identity crisis.

"I will never come to this restaurant again!", boomed Lord Frogtrousers and departed slowly, in a hurry, running quite leisurely. He pondered the Japanese culture as he slowly rolled home, wondering why they ate raw fish and yet didn't eat raw potatoes with them for chips too. All of a sudden, an arrow came whizzing from the air from nowhere and then disappeared without hitting or harming anything. Seeing as it was thousands of miles above the Earth's surface, nobody noticed apart from a jaundiced seagull who merely blinked apathetically and then died because there was no oxygen at that altitude.

Lord Frogtrousers inserted his key into the door of his Kensington mansion and carefully pushed the heavy, oak door open. He was about to step inside his home onto the plush carpet which was so warm, yeilding and welcoming, it was almost like his shoes had sexual intercourse with it every time they stepped upon it's deep pile skin, when he noticed a package by the front door. Stooping down to pick it up, he heard every bone in his spine readjust to daylight savings time and cursed the farmers noisily, much to the annoyance of his filthy rich neighbours. He was, however, delighted to note that the package was his latest consignment of cocaine with a street value of over two million pounds - he was going to flog it down the House Of Lords and make a packet. Just as he was about to step inside the cavernous door of his house, his skull was pierced by the beak of a dead seagull which had just plummetted thousands of miles from above the Earth surface, killing him instantly.

The apricots laughed, as did the chef... but all of the poor attendees at the House Of Lords had to do without their daily cocaine, so they passed a law making seagulls illegal - which they remain to this day. Please join us tomorrow for the next ripping tales of suburban jockularity from the makers of Marmite. Until then, please fasten your seatbelts and sleep soundly - for tomorrow we may die.
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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Merry
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:lol:

That's fantastic, Andy...please get your things put together and submit them!

You remind me of a cross between John Lennon's wit, and another of my favorites, Dave Barry.

Whose he, you ask? He's a humor columnist and author who is syndicated worldwide through the Miami Herald...I'd love for you to read some of his work just to see what I mean.

I'm just finishing Dave's latest book, "Money Secrets", which I'd really encourage everyone to read who enjoys a good laugh. It kept me from losing my sanity at work yesterday, I read most of it during the 8 hours.

Here's an excerpt...

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5166239

With the world conditions right now, we all need an "escape", and humorous stories are one of my favorite pastimes.

I'd love to see you put your talents to good use, Andy!


:) Merry





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JeffLynnesBeard
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I read the 'money' piece by Dave Barry - he's pretty good. ^_^
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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Merry
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I wish you could read it all, that particular segment isn't as good as further chapters.

I'd borrowed it from the library and have to get it back shortly.

You're very good too, Andy...I love reading what YOU write!


:) Merry


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JeffLynnesBeard
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Open a grapefruit and what do you see?
Sixty-five eyeballs all staring at me.
Why were they there and why do they stare?
They're angry that, despite puberty, they haven't grown pubic hair.
But surely it's pointless to go to that trouble?
Well, they were bored of eating noodles and rice in a bubble.
What do they do when they're not eating rice?
They sit watching movies featuring the late Vincent Price.
And if there's no movies with Vincent Price on?
They all masturbate whilst listening to 'Band On The Run'.
Would Paul McCartney mind if Paul McCartney knew?
He doesn't know and who's going to tell him - you?
I'm sorry, do you think I've overstepped the mark?
Yes I do and I'd throw you out - if it wasn't this dark.
Good job it is, or you I would shoot,
But now - at gunpoint - you must open this grapefruit.
Open a grapefruit and what do you see?
Sixty-five eyeballs all staring at me.
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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BeatleBarb
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I see you've dipped into the Cookie Monster's cookie jar, my friend. :hyper:
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JeffLynnesBeard
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BeatleBarb
Jul 29 2006, 06:36 AM
I see you've dipped into the Cookie Monster's cookie jar, my friend. :hyper:

Mmm... Opium Cookies for optimum drivel... :D :P
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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It has been theorised that time is an abstract concept and cannot be truly measured as each day is completely elastic depending on the activity of the sun and the exact orbital cycle the earth is moving in, so that there are many random factors that may influence the day's length... the gravitational pull of distant stars, atmospheric conditions, the theory that every little action in our world has some kind of result - cause & effect, if you will.

They say that time is an abstract concept because of the way time goes fast when you're doing something you enjoy and that time drags when you're doing chores... unless you have a forthcoming deadline, in which case it races. If it wasn't for clocks, most of us would have no idea exactly what time it is. Of course, I explained this to my b*stard boss and he still docked me money for being late. You just can't reason with these people. :(
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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Ha ha! I've got my laptop computer on the desk - not on my lap! If only Bill Gates knew, he'd be furious! You know, with all the money Bill Gates has, there's one thing that he can't buy... a live dodo! Think on that, Bill! People have a real problem with Bill Gates, you know, and I don't know why. He does so much for charity and people, like, say that the money he gives away to charity is comperable to the likes of you and me giving a penny. But he doesn't give a penny - he gives millions! If he gave a penny then that would be the same as us giving a penny. If we gave millions, it would be the same as him giving millions. So, really they're, like, talking crap. He's a good man. I don't understand why he dresses the way he does when he has so much money. If I had that much money I'd wear a gold suit with diamond cufflinks and caviar for hair gel... and I'd urinate champagne! Bill dresses like he's in Weezer. Actually, the guys in Weezer are quite rich after a successful music career which stretches over a decade, so why do they dress like that? I'm confused and I need my medication.

I get my medication from the liquor store. It makes me giggle and sometimes I don't make it to the lavatory on time. The lavatory attendant marks me as tardy and it goes on my overall punctuality and attendance record. I don't know where that goes - probably to the FBI or the CIA... or probably even Bill Gates himself. I want to be Bill Gates, or at least his lover. I know that he loves me, even if he doesn't even know it himself. I want to lick the salt from his eyeballs and ferment his sweat, making the sweetest wine known to humanity. You know, every time you type anything on the internet, Bill himself reads it. You're not safe here, there or even under your bed, hiding from the dust monsters. The dust monsters always find me and make me sneeze, shooting the peanut M&M's out of my nose which I'd put up there for safekeeping. I once sneezed and shot the cat. She still hasn't forgiven me. It's all Bill Gates' fault. But I don't blame him. Actually I do. But if you're reading this Bill, then I really don't. But I do. I still need my medication...
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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tinybubbleca
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after the day I had.. i KNEW a little drivel would help me :)

Thanks Andy!









Jim Carrey really brought fear into me with his performance in Batman Forever. A fear that he was gonna pop a blood vessle in his head from all that overacting.
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tinybubbleca
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Today's News: Survey: 2.5% of America Still Gettin' Jiggy Wid It
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tinybubbleca
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maybe the aliens crashed because a bug splattered on their windshield and they couldn't see through it and they didn't have window wipers and so they freaked out.
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tinybubbleca
Aug 24 2006, 01:53 AM
maybe the aliens crashed because a bug splattered on their windshield and they couldn't see through it and they didn't have window wipers and so they freaked out.

That's always a possumability. ;)
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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tinybubbleca
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Three days! Three acres! Three THOUSAND men! Only one will win THE GREAT OUTDOOR FIGHT!
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tinybubbleca
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if burgers were outlawed only outlaws would burg.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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Sleep is for the weak, sleep is for those who aren't realising their full potential. Who needs sleep? I haven't slept for over four days and I feel fine, feel fine, fine feel, feeling... yes. Um. OK. Just think of all the things you can achieve when everyone else is asleep - you're gaining eight hours a day over your competitor! I mean, I don't work, personally, so I don't have any competitors, but if I did... well, eight hours! That's all I'm saying, that's all, yes. All. Is that all there is? Who sang that? Oh - I just did. Anyway. The great thing about it is that is doesn't seem to have affected me at all - I'm at optimum performance despite that great big bloody blue helicopter which has landed on my head and which is now humming the Hungarian National Anthem, rather rudely seeing as we don't eat fish on a Sunday. We all live in a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine, a yellow submarine. Hahahahahahahaha!!!!! You see, that's how they get you, they have spies everywhere and, if you sleep, they can watch you sleeping. Well I won't let them! They can just wait forever as far as I'm concerned... my eyes can bloodshot, my hands can shake and I can collapse on the floor convulsing all they like, but I'm not going to...

:sleep:
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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:blink:

Wha....?


Oh bugger. <_<
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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Emilee
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PURPLE MONKEY DISHWASHER!
I wished I could save her in some sort of time machine.
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LIPA
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One fine day in the middle of the night
Two dead men got up to fight
Back to back they faced each other
Drew their swords and shot each other
:hyper:
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tinybubbleca
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History of Wonderboy and Young Nastyman, Riggah-goo-goo, riggah-goo-goo. A secret to be told, a gold chest to be bold, And blasting forth with three-part harmony, yeow!
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tinybubbleca
Aug 26 2006, 02:09 AM
History of Wonderboy and Young Nastyman, Riggah-goo-goo, riggah-goo-goo. A secret to be told, a gold chest to be bold, And blasting forth with three-part harmony, yeow!

Yes, but what does he eat? :blink:
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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Bill
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On a pitch black night the street was as pure as the driven snow. Further up the street, the snow was less pure as it had had to arrive by bicycle. At the far end of the street, where the snow had arrived by Shank's pony, it looked like it had been produced by the same.

The street had two names, depending on what side you were on. On one side it was called Benedict Road, while on the other side it was called Arnold Lane. And it was at the impure far end of this treacherous street that a ragged idiot stumbled into a bar, then a Pole, and finally into an Armenian cattle dog and said, "Beware! Beware! Beware ever you want, but don't forget to reset the timer on your electric blanket or you could end up just like me!"

Put a puppet on it.
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Jacaranda
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The days when the seals fly are the best. You can see them in purple, green and scarlet; their majesty is pure wonderment and a marvel to hold in your heart forever. And yet, one day, when I was least expecting it, an elephant bit me on the bottom.

I was disgruntled and the judge never forgave me.

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"If nothing else works, a total pig-headed unwillingness to look facts in the face will see us through." General Melchett, Blackadder Goes Forth




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BeatleBarb
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What ya all smokin? :D
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tinybubbleca
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BeatleBarb
Aug 28 2006, 08:26 AM
What ya all smokin? :D

applesauce

:)

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Jacaranda
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BeatleBarb
Aug 28 2006, 03:26 PM
What ya all smokin? :D

Money. B)
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"If nothing else works, a total pig-headed unwillingness to look facts in the face will see us through." General Melchett, Blackadder Goes Forth




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JeffLynnesBeard
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A Basic History Of Sumatra

I spent my winter wandering through Indonesia, in particular the island of Sumatra, which is known affectionately by the locals as 'Frank'. Mainly because I couldn't find the number 93 bus stop. An ancient name for Sumatra was Swarna Dwipa, (Sanskrit for Kiss My Hairy Butt), apparently based on the fact that arses in Sumatra had never known toilet paper embossed with Aloe Vera and the locals were mightily vexed from for centuries because of this. Their towns, even today, have slogans painted in L'Oreal shampoo on their walls protesting about the poor quality of Sumatran lavatory paper and their posteriors were eventually emancipated in 1784 by their great leader, Ann Drex whose reign was soft, strong and very, very long. Walt Disney made an animated feature celebrating their great breakthrough - the modern day masterpiece, Bumbi.

With its location in the very large lake right in the middle of Australia, several trading towns flourished, especially in the eastern (or western depending on where you were standing at the time of the great food fight) coast where the indiginous people of Australia, the Aztecs, came to buy copious amounts of bleach using the primitive currency, US Dollars, as payment. I learned, by the clever use of books, that the Sumatrans were influenced by Indian religions, such as Nike and Adidas. Reebok, shunned by the locals, was a Buddhist sweatshop which paid its workers in chocolate and was based in what is now Illinois, but they eventually won over the inhabitants of the island by bribing them with lots of drugs, porn, free cable and unlimited running shoes for island residents.

Dominating the region through trade and conquest throughout the 19th–20th century, the religious and financial leaders of Reebok helped spread herpes throughout Sumatra, Malay Peninsula, and western Borneo. The empire was thalassocratic, (meaning 'f*ckwitted and bloody horny') and their influence and inventive sodomy techniques were enjoyed throughout the world - San Francisco in particular. Reebok influence waned in the 11th century mainly because there was no such thing as TV and little chance of getting a famous American sportsperson to flog their goods. The island was then subject to conquests from Javanese kingdoms, first Singhasari and subsequently Majapahit... but the Irish invaded shortly afterwards with lots of Guinness and everyone forgot what they were doing and concentrated on centuries of Riverdancing. At the same time, Islam made its way to Sumatra, only stopping once on the way for gas and to use the bathroom. I forget what happened next, but I think Bruce Willis saved everyone whilst wearing nothing but a vest.

The End.
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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Dear Mr. Editor of The Times,

It's bloody disgusting - bloody well disgraceful and you can quote me on that! There's are paedophiles literally running around out there! Well, OK, not literally running around, but you know what I mean. I mean... Jesus! Can't you do something about it? Think of the children - in fact, don't! That's their problem, they're too busy thinking about the children. Ooh, it makes me sick just thinking about it. I've already vomited thirteen times today whilst watching music television - and I have the bucket to prove it! I blame Rock 'n' Roll and the internet and drugs and the swinging 60's and liberals and processed food. There are literally millions of filthy paedophiles producing rock 'n' roll records - and that's no exaggeration! Well, OK, it's an exaggeration... but it really isn't!!!!!!!!!

Take, for example, Chuck Berry's record 'Sweet Little Sixteen' (you'll have to use your own copy, I vomited over mine after listening to its FILTH!). The lyrics, "All the cats want to dance with Sweet Little Sixteen". Well, it's just wrong, isn't it? Cats? It's a thinly veiled euphemism for female genitalia. Dance? Well, we all know what you do when you dance - jiggle up and down and sweat a lot. Berry (not content with wanting you to play with his "ding-a-ling" Ding-a-ling? He means penis! Obviously! Children heard that, Berry! shame on you!) is urging people to jiggle up and down on a sixteen year old girl's 'cat' and it's just WRONG! I have vomited fifty-seven times whilst writing this paragraph alone. It's not just Chuck Berry - many disgusting so-called artists have condoned Berry's sick desires by covering this record - The Rolling Stones ( they included Bill Wyman - enough said!), The Beatles (who had a GAY manager - enough said!) and Yoko Ono (who is JAPANESE!!!). I, myself, have covered this record. IN VOMITUS!!!!

Ringo Starr was evidently the most ill, depraved member of The Beatles as he has had a moustache for the majority of his career. Apart from that, he also recorded another paedophile's anthem, You're Sixteen, You're Beautiful And You're Mine. You shouldn't be lusting afteen sixteen year old girls, Mr. Starkey, we all know how sick you are with your Thomas The Tank Engine/Shining Time Station activities. Trains? Tunnels? I know what you're up to, "Ringo"!!!!! Gary Puckett together with his Union Gap clearly had the right idea when he said, "Young Girl, get out of my mind/my love for you is way outta line/better run, girl/you're much too young, girl!". Starr & Berry could learn a lot from Mr. Puckett - at least he admits that he is a filthy, dirty, disgusting paedo and has attempted to do something about it! Kudos, Sir - you're a pervert, but you admit it.

Now, heed my words - but I shall be writing tomorrow regardless. Now, I must bring this to a close for the 1962 classic 'Lolita' is on television and I still think I have a little left in my stomach. Not much, but - I pray - enough. I urge you to act against the offenders named in my letter otherwise, and this is no exaggeration, the world we live in and all its children will be in mortal danger! Well, maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but it's actually not.

Yours, in moral outrage,

Mr. R. Littlejohn
London,
England.
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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BeatleBarb
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You crack me up, buddy. Hahaha....f*ckwitted! I needed this. Keep the insanity coming!
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JanaW
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Three Things In Life Women Want: Rich Coffee, Rich Chocolate and Rich Men

If slaughterhouses had glass walls the whole world would be vegetarian.
Linda McCartney
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JeffLynnesBeard
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The dark, humid room seemed to bristle with electricity as the bed squeaked rhythmically and the panting of the two lovers grew more frantic and desperate. Suddenly, George's whole body tensed up, shuddered and then relaxed as he revelled in his satisfying climax. "Oh God", he groaned, his muscles spasming, "That was awesome! How was that for you?" Tony peeled his face from the pillow. "That wasn't bad at all, Mr. President, but if you think I'm sleeping in the wet patch again, you're sorely mistaken."



...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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Pies and beer. Lots of pies and beer. That's all they sell in that shop, which isn't at all appropriate considering it's a school cafeteria. Have you ever tried to teach a class of thirty eight-year-old children quadratic equations when they've had an afternoon on the lager? It's not easy, I'll tell you that for nothing. Still, I had no business in the school anyway - I just turned up to deliver the vodka to the teachers lounge and the headmaster collared me to stand in for Mr. Pansexual, who was suffering from a very painful erection and was unable to teach... or indeed stand up straight. Well, I know all about children - I used to be one, so I agreed. Being a fine, upstanding citizen (which is more than can be said for Mr. Pansexual), I put on my teaching gown (OK, it was my bedsheet) and stepped into the fray... after he'd given me a fiver and the promise of a bag of chips after school, of course.

I struggled to find a textbook that hadn't been drawn all over by the children so, in the end, read my tabloid newspaper to them from cover to cover. I'm very proud to state that the kids are now experts in illegal immigration and advocate "sending them all back home". They're also all deeply opposed to stealth taxes and ended up voting 89% to 11% supporting the motion that Heather 'Mucca' Mills is a money-grabbing slapper. Interestingly enough, the 11% who supported Heather had noticably short skirts, which was quite worrying seeing as they were boys. After that exciting discussion, it was time for the awkward subject of sex education. I needn't have worried, for what a successful session it was! You know, I learned more from those kids than I dreamed possible, some of which I thought to be illegal! My wife would be delighted, but unfortunately I don't have one.

In the afternoon there was a Physical Education session and the little darlings got a good work out as they played an energetic game of football. I was so proud of them... they were running so hard, their cigarettes almost fell out of their mouths. I let them play a few games for fun after that - mainly Blackjack and Poker. I almost lost the mortgage money, but I was able to pawn the school computer & get enough stake money to win my cash back from 'Snide' Clyde, the school shyster. In fact, he ended up owing me more than he had so I had to break all of his fingers. Well, I was there to teach them valuable lessons, after all! I may come back tomorrow and the children seem enthusiastic when I suggested it to them. Yes, I think I have found a vocation I finally enjoy which, after my many years in prison, is a real turn up for the books. I love the state school system!
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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"My conversation with a former and current hippie in a pub ..."

Me: Hey, man, how ya doodlin'?

Him: Hey, what's up?

Me: Not much. I like the music they play in here - sixties stuff. I'm a big Beatles fan, do you like 'em?

Him: I know all about the Beatles, I guess you could say I'm sort of an expert about them. I remember when they were on the Ed Sullivan Show, I think it was around 1967 when they first started. Ed got upset because of John's vulgar hip movements, and the next week they only showed him from the neck up. Then they made that movie about George's grandmother called Let It Be. That was a great song, I loved the words, "I'll be there tomorrow, let it be". Then, they did that Yellow Machine Gun movie, it was a cartoon, if I'm not mistaken - no, I think they were clay, I'm not sure. Anyway, they played their own instruments in that, it was great. One of my favorite albums was Rubber Soul. Bob Dylan helped them write that, he was great. One of their most popular albums was called Sgt. Pepper. If you played that album backwards and watched The Wizard of Oz at the same time, it was supposed to say, "I buried Paul" - and it does, I tried it once. The Beatles loved to play at fast-food restaurants when they first started out. They used to play at a place called "Liver Pool", it must have been a liver & onions joint. In Germany, they played a place called "Hamburgers". Then, they did that White Album with John and Yoko on the cover naked. I think you had to peel off the cover if you wanted to see their private parts. I used to love to listen to their album called Abbey's Road. Abbey was Ringo's aunt. Ringo was called the baby-face Beatle because he wore rings as a baby. They recorded this on top of a building. They also went to Spain one year and studied dentistry, they called it "Trans-in-Dental-Medication", or something like that. Their teacher was a baseball player named Yogi. Then they split up. Paul's wife started her own band, called Wingspan, because she liked animals. Ringo made a few movies with Marlon Brando. John moved to Japan. George was shot and killed in front of his hotel in New York City. Now I hear this stuff about Paul and his wife getting divorced. I guess that means Wingspan will break up and he'll have to sing most of the songs, now.

Me: I gotta go, see ya!
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bluemeanie
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is now a happily married woman x
JeffLynnesBeard
Sep 16 2006, 01:42 AM
Pies and beer. Lots of pies and beer. That's all they sell in that shop, which isn't at all appropriate considering it's a school cafeteria. Have you ever tried to teach a class of thirty eight-year-old children quadratic equations when they've had an afternoon on the lager? It's not easy, I'll tell you that for nothing. Still, I had no business in the school anyway - I just turned up to deliver the vodka to the teachers lounge and the headmaster collared me to stand in for Mr. Pansexual, who was suffering from a very painful erection and was unable to teach... or indeed stand up straight. Well, I know all about children - I used to be one, so I agreed. Being a fine, upstanding citizen (which is more than can be said for Mr. Pansexual), I put on my teaching gown (OK, it was my bedsheet) and stepped into the fray... after he'd given me a fiver and the promise of a bag of chips after school, of course.

I struggled to find a textbook that hadn't been drawn all over by the children so, in the end, read my tabloid newspaper to them from cover to cover. I'm very proud to state that the kids are now experts in illegal immigration and advocate "sending them all back home". They're also all deeply opposed to stealth taxes and ended up voting 89% to 11% supporting the motion that Heather 'Mucca' Mills is a money-grabbing slapper. Interestingly enough, the 11% who supported Heather had noticably short skirts, which was quite worrying seeing as they were boys. After that exciting discussion, it was time for the awkward subject of sex education. I needn't have worried, for what a successful session it was! You know, I learned more from those kids than I dreamed possible, some of which I thought to be illegal! My wife would be delighted, but unfortunately I don't have one.

In the afternoon there was a Physical Education session and the little darlings got a good work out as they played an energetic game of football. I was so proud of them... they were running so hard, their cigarettes almost fell out of their mouths. I let them play a few games for fun after that - mainly Blackjack and Poker. I almost lost the mortgage money, but I was able to pawn the school computer & get enough stake money to win my cash back from 'Snide' Clyde, the school shyster. In fact, he ended up owing me more than he had so I had to break all of his fingers. Well, I was there to teach them valuable lessons, after all! I may come back tomorrow and the children seem enthusiastic when I suggested it to them. Yes, I think I have found a vocation I finally enjoy which, after my many years in prison, is a real turn up for the books. I love the state school system!

didn't know Andy you had visited all the schools in Wigan ;) :P kids grow up on the stuff round there lol :lol:
Jayne x

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is loving life and is so happy xxx
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JeffLynnesBeard
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A Collection Of Proverbs

A cat has nine lives, all of them involve licking their own genitals rigorously. I think we can all learn from cats.

A drowning man is not troubled by rain, but will still not welcome Jehovah's Witnesses.

A son is a son till he gets him a wife, but a daughter's a daughter the rest of your life. Unless she has a sex change, of course.

As the best wine makes the sharpest vinegar, the truest lover may turn into the worst enemy - especially if you've slept with her sister. Twice.

Death pays all debts - unless you owe money to the taxman and then he'll find some way to collect.

Give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day. Teach him how to fish and you'll never see him at weekends.

Honesty is the best policy, but doesn't pay out for incidences of terrorism or acts of God. Check the small print, it's all there.

Love thy neighbour - but don't get caught or the wife'll have the house, the kids & a hefty alimony from you.

Make hay while the sun shines - or just sunbathe. Whatever - it's all good.
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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Bill
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JeffLynnesBeard
Oct 1 2006, 10:39 PM

A drowning man is not troubled by rain, but will still not welcome Jehovah's Witnesses.


Give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day. Teach him how to fish and you'll never see him at weekends.

Corollary:

Teach Jehova's witnesses to fish and everyone will be happy!
Put a puppet on it.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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Way down South, where the Northern states begin,
There lives a mango bush who produces neat & tidy gin,
Where troubled foxes make a pilgrimage to confess their mortal sin,
In this wacky, tacky world.
He produces gelatin dessert which will never ever set,
And he's a wonderful kisser, though he'll swear we never met,
He eats plenty of beans and will often fart the alphabet,
In this wacky, tacky world.

Don't attempt to visit, unless you enjoy pain,
Although it's very interesting watching his groin wax and wane,
But you'll find your gaze drawn to a rather peculiar stain,
That looks like Che Guevara.
It's big and it's purple and it almost covers the wall,
Which is odd because it's jungle and there's no wall at all,
And if you listen carefully, you'll hear your mother call,
and she sounds like Che Guevara!

So if you like your tongue and you're not dressed for sex,
I'll tell you something now which your sausage, it'll vex,
It's barely understandable, it's so devious and complex,
I... have... no... buttocks.
Don't call or shout or ring or run for it will do no good,
For I am everywhere, planting mangos in your neighbourhood,
Nobody can help you and, admit it, no-one should,
For... I... have... no... buttocks.
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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Bill
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balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls pony balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls socket spanner balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls caravan.
Put a puppet on it.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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Once upon a time in a land far, far away there lived a little girl called Little Red Riding Hood. One day, Red Riding Hood was given a basket of goodies to take to her Grandma’s house which was in the middle of a deep, dark magical forest. Red sweetly requested a taxi, but her Mother, claiming to not be made of bleedin’ money, told her to get some bloody exercise and walk for a change. Red skipped out of the house, leaving her Mother muttering something about lazy b*tches, and headed into the enchanted forest. Once she got a little way into the forest, Little Red Riding Hood began to become a little scared at how dense the trees were and how dark they made the path, so she sat down and decided to smoke one of Grandma’s cigarettes to calm her nerves, snacking on the tube of Pringles Mother had lovingly packed for her. She opened everything Mother had placed carefully in the basket for Grandma and scoffed every little last morsel, hungrily consuming everything apart from a tube of something called KY Jelly which didn't taste particularly good.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a shadowy figure emerged from behind the trunk of a mighty oak. Red screamed, "It’s the big bad wolf!". The wolf, visibly hurt, shook his head and sat down on a nearby log. "Talk about prejudice!", the wolf exclaimed, "Here I am, minding my own business, walking through the forest my family have occupied for generations and then I get verbally assaulted by some scarlet trailer trash hussy with a cigarette in one hand and a handful of Pringles in the other... and she has the audacity to call me bad!" Red Riding Hood blinked. "But… don’t you want to eat me?" she stammered. "Eat you?", spat the wolf, "Again with the stereotyping! I‘ll have you know that I‘m a vegan! Unless you're an unusually intelligent lentil who has just found the power of speech, I have no interest in consuming you. Good day!" The wolf raised his nose haughtily in the air and walked off in the direction of the nearest Whole Foods store in search of some decent cut-price tofu.

"Well!" exclaimed Red, "That’s f*cked that story right up."
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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ogoble
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Bill
Oct 6 2006, 04:34 PM
balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls pony balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls socket spanner balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls balls caravan.

:o You gotta have alot of balls to make a statement like that!
Posted Image Beatles/Paul McCartney & Wings Fan Posted Image
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JeffLynnesBeard
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Once upon a time, deep in the sleepy Nevada desert, there lived three little pigs called Nigel, Gunthrap and Knicker Elastic. They all got sick and tired of living in the sand, so they decided to each build a house. Nigel, being the most stupid pig, decided to build his house out of straw. Gunthrap, being marginally less stupid, decided to build his house out of sticks. Knicker Elastic, who was a know-it-all smart-ass (you know the type) decided to build his house out of bricks. The next day, the nearest builder's merchants delivered each pig the materials they'd requested. Unfortunately, because they had trotters and not hands with opposable thumbs, they couldn't even pick up their building materials and so failed miserably at the first hurdle, dying of sunstroke.

And they say that pigs are smart. Just shows what "they" know, doesn't it?
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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I was halfway through waxing Burt Reynolds' scrotum when I thought, "Girlfriend... why you putting up with this sh*t?" and got my skinny ass out of that door pronto, leaving ol' Burt shouting and hollering about his ingrowing testicle hair problem - like I give a damn. People have been riding my ass all of my life and not in the good Las Vegas way neither. I was considering the fact that I haven't really ever done anything for myself, I have always been doing things for others. Even when I was a scrawny kid, growing up in the ghettos of Windsor, England, I was always selfless, making myself useful round the house. My dear old Mother used me as a coffee maker - that is when my sweet ol' Daddy wasn't utilising me as a hatstand. He had thirty-seven hats, that wonderful man. All of them black bowler hats. He used to busk outside Windsor Castle doing Sammy Davis Jr. impressions, naked. He had to retire when, in the middle of his act, Princess Diana went past and winked at him, making his Mr. Bojangles stand to attention. He was lucky they didn't throw him in the tower - but, secretly, I think Diana enjoyed it. I don't think Charles was much in the man department, you know.

That chapter of my life came to an end when I hit Puberty and, consequently, Puberty sued me, took me to court and I had to give him all of my teeth in damages. I could, of course, no longer grind coffee beans for my mother and was of no use to her any more. So, leaving forever, I said a very tearful an emotional goodbye to my mother, my dear, sweet father and my bearded collie dog, Sh*thead. With only just over forty-five thousand pounds in cash, I wandered out into the world to seek my fortune... and where else to go than America? So, I hitched a ride with a group of hippies who just happened to be driving to San Francisco. Four hours later, the VW bus pulled into San Francisco and we all hugged in celebration. Two of the guys hugged me really tight and didn't appear to notice that their pee-pees had fallen into my woo-wah. Still, no-one seemed to be all that shocked, so I went along with it believing it to be normal - although I did think it was odd that they were shouting that they were coming when, in fact, we had already got there. I made my mind up right there and then never to try Coca-cola. Anyway, the feeling of elation soon faded when we realised that we had, in fact, arrived in Cardiff and not San Francisco. Worse still, all of the people there appeared to be Welsh.

So, wearing leeks in our hair, we spent the "Summer Of Love" (1991) in South Wales and survived by spending my pitiful life savings on exotic food like "bread" and "baked beans". Luckily, my money went a long way and we were able to stay in the local flophouse, a little but cosy place called The Hilton. My friends told me that the Welsh word for water was "Champagne" so we survived on lots of Champagne which, oddly at the time, was fizzy and made me want to dance. I now, of course, know what Champagne actually is and am - one day - going to go back to Wales to bottle their water supply... I think I could make a fortune selling it. I shall never forget that summer with Dog, Crusty, Digger and Harold for as long as I shall live and I was really grateful to Crusty and Harold for - somehow - stopping that inconvenient and messy bleeding every month for me but, of course, all good things come to an end and, come fall, I decided to use a more conventional method to get to America - hovercraft. Unfortunately, I couldn't find any hovercraft owner who would take me to America, so I reluctantly settled on taking one of those new, strange aeroplane things and took a taxi cab to the nearest airport - the nice man told me that the nearest Airport to Cardiff was in a small town called Manchester and I wearily fell asleep whilst he drove.

I arrived at the airport seven hours and five hundred pounds later. Only having around twenty-thousand pounds left, I needed something cheap, so I put half of my money on the British Airways desk and asked the nice wide-eyed lady for a single to America and that I'd travel with all of the other working people, so she sold me a ticket to a place called Los Angeles in something called "Business Class". I must have been nervous about flying because I felt a really weird kicking sensation in my very fat tummy. I planned to go on one of those fancy American diets when I got there and made my fortune. The aeroplane ride wasn't as bad as I thought it would be and, for common people, the seats were quite nice and they served fresh Welsh water, making me feel quite at home. One of the stewardesses asked me if I was OK flying 'in my condition' and I replied that I'd much rather the aeroplane flew and I just sat here, thank you very much. She gave me a very hard stare and walked away muttering something about 'smart asses'. I immediately liked her for noticing the tidiness of my bottom, as I'd always been proud of its perkiness.

After a very comfortable flight, I arrived in Los Angeles very excited and warm... America was hot! After leaving the airport, I decided that I didn't need my heavy British clothes so I stripped off and walked around a place called Hollywood naked - nobody seemed to mind although in America cars tend to crash a lot, so I feared for my safety and went into the nearest building for safety, a local cafe called "Planet Hollywood". Everyone was very friendly to me and there was a huge man inside who who took me in the back room and gave me a very nice welcoming hug, just like Crusty and Harold - at first I thought he was mentally retarded because he spoke really slowly and he had a weird glazed look in his eye, but one of the waitresses told me that Arnold was just like that. I explained to him why I was in America and he said that he could fix me up with a job doing beauty treatments for Hollywood stars and I thanked him very much. He hugged me again, but this time from behind.

So, that's where you find me, fifteen years later, walking down a corridor of some swanky Hollywood beauty salon with a naked Burt Reynolds jumping up and down angrily behind me, looking like the last unsold Thanksgiving turkey in the butchers shop. Of course, I'm a lot older and wiser now. Unfortunately, I haven't really kept my youthful looks and I have (for some unknown reason) a child at home to provide for, so I swallow my pride and return to Burt, apologise for leaving temporarily and carry on with his waxing. That's my story. Perhaps one day I will really seek my fortune but maybe I've found it. Perhaps plucking the grey hairs from aging movie stars' genitalia is an honourable profession and as good as it gets. But I'm willing to bet that it isn't.
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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BeatleBarb
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Andy, I just read this to my daughter with what I think is the perfect accent and tempo! We're both peeing our pants...thanks! We're off to get some Welsh water. You're crazy, man...love it!
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BeatleBarb
Nov 28 2006, 04:28 PM
Andy, I just read this to my daughter with what I think is the perfect accent and tempo! We're both peeing our pants...thanks! We're off to get some Welsh water. You're crazy, man...love it!

Glad you enjoyed it, Barb! :)
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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Merry
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Great stories, Andy! :lol:

Please keep 'em coming...and put them into that book you're working on.


I needed a good laugh! ;)


:) Merry


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JeffLynnesBeard
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Thanks, Merry! ^_^
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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JeffLynnesBeard
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Merry Christmas? Merry Christmas?!?

I'll tell you about bloody Christmas! Christmas has changed beyond all recognition since my day, it's all bloody commercial now. I went into the supermarket the other day and they were playing bloody Christmas records - on December 22nd! It's not bloody Christmas until bloody well Christmas Eve, then they can start playing Christmas records. And the bloody Christmas records - what happened to the nice old classics like White Christmas and Silver Bells? Now we have some bearded hippie telling us how he wishes it could be Christmas every day. Well, I bloody well don't! Think of the expense - if you can't even afford a bloody haircut, then how are you going to afford Christmas every day - bloody beatnik! And that Mariah Carey song - "All I Want For Christmas Is You"? If those aren't the words of a two-bit wh*re, I don't know what is. And what exactly has that got to do with the true meaning of Christmas? Not that that matters these days. Bloody kids don't know they're born. We made our own entertainment in those days - we'd sit and point at a lump of coal shaped like a pair of buttocks for hours on end and laugh the night away. Have you actually seen what the ungrateful b*stard kids are bloody well asking for? iPod this, PlayStation that, Tammygotchy this and Nintendy Wee that - when I was a nipper all I used to get for Christmas was a satsuma... and I was bloody well grateful, I'll tell you that for nothing! I used to play with that satsuma for weeks - all you needed was your imagination! I'd play football with it, pretend that it was a toy car... the fun never ended - and the best bit - after I'd finished playing with it you'd have a tasty snack - none of your bloody selection box rubbish. You can use the satsuma peel for many things - my husband and I used a big bit of peel as a makeshift Dutch cap for contraception for years and I've recommended it highly to my twelve kids. Satsumas in stockings and watching my younger sister nibbling on her boyfriend's salty nuts... now that was a real bloody Christmas! I remember my old Dad coming home steaming drunk from the pub two hours late for dinner - every year - beating the living sh*t out of me - every year - well, he was a stickler for tradition, you know - and then sitting down to a proper Christmas dinner. And I mean proper. Goose, you understand, none of this bloody turkey rubbish - besides, you can't catch a turkey down the local park, can you? One year we went down to the local park, but all the geese had migrated, so my Ma got fifteen pounds of sage & onion stuffing, shoved it up the canary's arse, roasted it and desperately hoped that my Dad wouldn't notice - she shouldn't have worried, of course, after five hours in the pub my Dad wouldn't have noticed if my Ma had roasted herself. Until the dishes started piling up, of course. But we were happy! Not like all of these bloody rich b*stards with their fancy electronic equipment, posh Champagne and lah-de-dah electricity. Nope, they've taken all of the spirit out of Christmas. Nobody is interested in going to a freezing cold church and sitting there listening to a man in a dress about how wicked they are for hours on end - they'd rather be at home watching the James bloody Bond movie! Where's the fun in that? If everyone remembered the true meaning of Christmas, the birth of Santa, then I'm sure there would be a lot less bloody wars in this world and that's the bloody truth and you can call me Mavis if it's not.

Christmas? Ha! Merry bloody Christmas. W*nkers.

The Queen's Speech Is Repeated On BBC2 at 11:50pm
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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ogoble
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JeffLynnesBeard
Dec 24 2006, 04:32 AM
The Queen's Speech Is Repeated On BBC2 at 11:50pm

:blink: That is one fiesty queen. Posted Image
Posted Image Beatles/Paul McCartney & Wings Fan Posted Image
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JanaW
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Andy, you're one in a million. Thank God, you're ours! Merry Christmas Luv...and give little Fi a kissy for me too.
If slaughterhouses had glass walls the whole world would be vegetarian.
Linda McCartney
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JeffLynnesBeard
Dec 24 2006, 04:32 AM
If everyone remembered the true meaning of Christmas, the birth of Santa, then I'm sure there would be a lot less bloody wars in this world...

That is my favorite part. Enjoyable stuff, Andy!
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JeffLynnesBeard
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Thanks Jana & Gary. ^_^
...and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
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iscreamer1
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Baking Fairy Cakes
Andy you are one talented and funny dude. I really enjoy reading your drivel.

Seriously, have you ever thought of writting for a magazine?


I'm off to toast my toes and scramble Christmas pudding. Every year I make my kids solve a puzzle before they get their presents. I have a sh*t load of gifts in the closet. Maybe some year, maybe some year. Itsy bits and all that.
Laughter is the shortest distance between two people - Victor Borge

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BeatleBarb
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Andy, that was brilliant as usual. You know why it was easy to pick this as the best thread! I wish we could have a new one every day! Too funny you are.
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