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Bluffboy says: My mate cheated death and burned his eyebrows off looking down the barrel of a potato gun. Tell us about your brushes with the Grim Reaper through stupidity.
( , Thu 12 Feb 2009, 20:01)
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We interrupt this QOTW to bring you a special Valentine's bulletin.
I'm bored at work. I am completely underwhelmed. I want to leave! Wander lust is taking over my mind, and I feel like I can walk all the way from Brixton to Brussels.
The situation stinks. I'm in love with someone. I'd really like to root her between the boobs. When thinking of her, I unleash buckets of jizz from my creamy ankh-shaped genitals followed by the wee which cleans out my urethra. But because I'm such a big girl's blouse, I chicken out at every opportunity. But really, it stinks! The smell reminds me of my teenage years when I joined a gang who would rebel against society by shitting their pants (they were known as the 'pants cackers'). But secretly, I found it too much, so I would discretely give my self several arse-wipes. It's like I'm living in a bin! As if my nose is pressed next to a seal's bum and I think "This seal end reeks!".
But I have to look at myself and think "Am I a pussy or a vampire?". I really need to man up and badger myself to flirt using the correct grammar.
I'm badly addicted to her. I see her as the empress of my heart (AKA Madam the Fluffy Grandmistress) who can't get in because she forgot her password. Thinking of her gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling. I imagine myself being as happy as a little tulip dancing to a Celidh band. But the reality is very different.
Until then, I'll be crying so much that I'll have to be locked up in the loony bin. For me, there will be a special ward reserved for me - The dire whiner ward.
Apologies? Lengthy.
( , Sat 14 Feb 2009, 17:24, 22 replies)
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for a minute there I thought you were talking to me. Can you please change it to "I'm bored at work"?
Ta.
( , Sat 14 Feb 2009, 17:35, closed)
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I was drunk when I read it and didn't quite get you were talkign to us lasses.
I lose!
( , Mon 16 Feb 2009, 20:08, closed)
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you must attend tonight's anarchists' speed dating bash........ ;o)
*spangs ever so gently*
*grins and clicks*
( , Sat 14 Feb 2009, 17:45, closed)
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Mme Marlboro, grandmasterfluffles, becky letters, etc.
( , Sat 14 Feb 2009, 18:15, closed)
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"Madam the Fluffy Grandmistress" and "buckets of jizz".
( , Sun 15 Feb 2009, 1:28, closed)
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So you get a click AND a spang!
Nice one.
( , Sat 14 Feb 2009, 18:16, closed)
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I'm happy to not be included as I don't do valentines...least not when the guy I like is almost 100 miles away :(
( , Sat 14 Feb 2009, 18:17, closed)
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At least you have someone! I'm single, and well, you know.
( , Sat 14 Feb 2009, 18:26, closed)
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But I did include you...
beckyjsbx -> jsbx -> jizz-buckets -> buckets of jizz
* dons spang-proof suit *
100 miles? Pah! I can cycle that distance in 2 daYs! (provided it's flat all the way)
( , Sun 15 Feb 2009, 1:30, closed)
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I'm very hurt. You forgot me. :(
But otherwise hilarious. *clicks*
( , Sat 14 Feb 2009, 23:44, closed)
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There we go! I must have missed that. :P
My Apologies.
Extra clicks for you.
( , Sun 15 Feb 2009, 6:30, closed)
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Really. (oh I see living in a bin now)
Don't forget there are no women on the internets.
( , Sat 14 Feb 2009, 23:58, closed)
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I'm bored at work (workboresme). I am completely underwhelmed (Completely Underwhelmed). I want to leave! Wander lust (wanderlust) is taking over my mind, and I feel like I can walk all the way from Brixton to Brussels (brixton bruxelles).
The situation stinks. I'm in love with someone. I'd really like to root her (roota) between the boobs (Tourette's ( . )( . )). When thinking of her, I unleash buckets of jizz (beckyjsbx) from my creamy ankh (ancrenne) -shaped genitals followed by the wee which (TheWeeWitch) cleans out my urethra. But because I'm such a big girl's blouse (big-girl's-blouse), I chicken (chickenlady) out at every opportunity. But really, it stinks! The smell reminds me of my teenage years when I joined a gang who would rebel against society by shitting their pants (they were known as the 'pants cackers (cackers)'). But secretly, I found it too much, so I would discretely give my self several arse-wipes (rachelswipe). It's like I'm living in a bin (Mrs Liveinabin)! As if my nose is pressed next to a seal's bum and I think "This seal end reeks (clendrix)!".
But I have to look at myself and think "Am I a pussy or a vampire (Vampyrecat)?". I really need to man up and badger myself to flirt using the correct grammar (flirting with badgers and The Grammar Badger).
I'm badly addicted to her (Maladicta). I see her as the empress (The Empress) of my heart (AKA Madam (Madam Marlboro) the Fluffy Grandmistress (grandmasterfluffles)) who can't get in because she forgot her password (Rakky (forgot her password)). Thinking of her gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling (warmfuzzyfeeling). I imagine myself being as happy as a little tulip (happylittletulip) dancing to a Celidh band (crackhouseceilidhband). But the reality is very different.
Until then, I'll be crying so much that I'll have to be locked up in the loony bin. For me, there will be a special ward reserved for me - The dire whiner ward.
Apologies? Lengthy.
( , Thu 19 Feb 2009, 9:32, closed)
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