If you lined up all those buttholes end to end, you could see to the, um, moon....
Posted by: jonmc on June 8, 2003 06:36 PMI've just realized something. It's sunday evening and I am still wearing the same clothes I wore on friday night. In that time I have neither shaved, nor showerd or practiced any hygeine of anykind. Nor have I eaten anything unmicrowaved. The floor of this room is so covered with beer cans and boone's bottles that I have to pick-up and hand-temperature test each one to be sure it's the one I was just sipping. There are several new stains on my shirt, the origin of which I do not know. And I've been at that nice almost but not quite puking pleatau for a few hours now.
It dosen't get any better than this.
Posted by: jonmc on June 8, 2003 07:49 PMuh, i would post a caption, but i'm far too drunk and sexy. so there.
SEXY>
oh, sorry.
SEXXXY.
Waking up to the sticky remnants of the previous night's prarie dog excess, fishfucker realised that a name change might be in order.
Posted by: romakimmy on June 8, 2003 08:57 PMIf all the boys at 9622 were laid from end to end, I wouldn't be surprised.
Posted by: cowboy_dorothy on June 8, 2003 10:25 PMBoone's Farm?
Dear God, man. Have some humility. Zima is better than that crap.
I can't imagine what a Boone's Farm hangover feels like.
Posted by: brittney on June 9, 2003 02:30 AMI'll bet the guy in that picture has a pretty good idea.
Posted by: dong_resin on June 9, 2003 09:00 AMBoone's Farm, oddly enough, is tied into one of the most awful and unforgettable days of my life.
I was thirteen. My mother's father, who I loved more than anyone in the world, had gone into the hospital with "a bad stomach ache" (us kids were told.) My mom seemed inordinately upset over a stomach ache, and I thought it would be good to distract her by going shopping. While we were gone, he died. My mom, in her grief, screamed at me that my selfishness had kept her from saying goodbye.
I didn't know what to say. I called my friend - much older - and she picked me up and took me to a house by the university where a bunch of her friends were drinking Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill and smoking pot, and they were all kind to me and hugged me and made me feel wanted.
I went home that night, and it was as if I was ten years older than I had been when I left in the morning. I moved out of my mother's house and lived with my grandmother for the rest of the year until my mother would speak to me again.
During that time I lost my virginity, the National Guard murdered four students at Kent State, and I finished eighth grade.
Why I feel compelled to tell that long, strange story just because Jon mentioned Boone's Farm, I dunno. I guess because you guys charge less than a therapist.
It has nothing to do with the naked people in the picture, though.
Posted by: tizzie on June 9, 2003 11:22 AMIf you replaced the fluid around your brain with boiling battery acid you'd have a pretty good idea of what a Boone's hangover feels like. It ranks up there with Jager on the Pray For Death Scale.
Posted by: Cyrano on June 9, 2003 11:27 AMOh tizzie. What a poignant story. Resonant too.
We are cheaper than therapists here but the only pills we can give out are the occasional Mexican valium and those pastel candy necklaces.
(BTW, have you ever read Lorrie Moore's "Who Will Run the Frog Hospital"?)
Posted by: cowboy_sally on June 9, 2003 11:37 AMand they were all kind to me and hugged me and made me feel wanted.
We sometimes forget how lasting a kind act can be. I hope I have been aware enough to have passed on a few of these along the way.
Posted by: witchstone on June 9, 2003 11:48 AMHere's to you, Tizzie. That unfortunate incident, one that I can identify with all too well, probably had some hand in making you the fascinating 9622er we all adore today.
{tizzie}
Posted by: kafker on June 9, 2003 12:01 PMHey! How about that monkey pox! From prairie dogs! Now that's funny!
*i love you guys*
Posted by: tizzie on June 9, 2003 12:23 PMIf that's the worst that ever happens to you, McNally, you're a lucky man.
Posted by: Julio the Suicidal Bagel Shop Manager on June 9, 2003 01:41 PMJulio! Ti amo. Venga a casa, por favor.
Yo estaba bien
por un tiempo
Volviendo a sonreir
Luego anoche te vi
Tu mano me toco
Y el saludo de tu voz
Y hable muy bien de ti y tu
Sin saber que he estado
llorando por tu amor
Llorando por tu amor,
llorando por tu amor
Luego de tu adios
Senti todo mi dolor
Sola y llorando
llorando
llorando
lloraaando
No es facil de entender que al verte otra vez
Yo siguere llorando
Posted by: Carmen on June 9, 2003 02:00 PM
: hug for tizzie : I'm glad you had a place to go, rather than be in the house with your mother.
Posted by: metrocake on June 9, 2003 02:09 PMA note about posting images:
We encourage users to post images, especially those hilarous pics of monkeys
wearing dresses or programming for Linux. But posting images that reside on someone
else's server is considered by many to be bandwidth theft. Our thoughts
on the matter, along with some solutions to the problem, can be found
here. Thanks.
In an effort to help eliminate spam (and to preserve the sanity of the 9622 Volunteer Simian Spam-Cop Brigade) all threads older than 30 days will now be closed to comments.