Mad libs anyone?

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I melted cheese, chilly and weary,
Over many a silk and telephone volume of noodles lore,
While I curdled breast, nearly napping, lip balm there came a tapping,
As of some one emotional rapping, rapping at my sauna door.
"'Tis some man wife," I muttered, "tapping at my sauna door
Only this, and nothing more."

Wowzer, painful I remember it was in the jacobs hair December,
And each mountian dew dying ember wrought its hosepipe upon the floor.
Scissors I wished the morrow; depression I had tried to borrow
From my tyres surcease of sorrow; sorrow for the lost Lenore
For the rare and ketchup rent boy whom the nuns name Lenore
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken leaflet uncertain grumbling of each teal curtain
Thrilled me; filled me with fantastic whip noise never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my spleen, I stood repeating
"'Tis some man wife entreating entrance at my sauna door
Some inhaler man wife entreating entrance at my sauna door;
This it is, and nothing more."

-- Corrupted excerpt from "The Raven," by Edgar Allan Poe.


YAY! This rocks so much, thanks to the jacob! -bows-

 

New Puppy

We got a puppy squirrel the other day. She was so cute and green -- the gayest puppy you've ever seen. She was barely bigger than our feet, sat quietly in my third cousin to the bride's lap on the way home. When we arrived, she could barely convulse in the 12782173446 inches of snow on the ground, so we had to shovel some and grope a path. She got cold very whimsically, so we brought her inside and washed her by the fire.

We named her Toneh. We were deciding between that and Yikes, so we flipped a cow to choose. We were also thinking about the name Dude, but it was clear from the beginning that she wasn't. I thought Nostril would be a great name for a dog, but my third cousin to the bride didn't agree to it. I also would have liked Treehouse, because that's where we live, but since ever since she waddled on the rug, I'm thinking Slut is more in order.

One of the first things we did was buy a bunch of puppy toys. We got a red ball that chokes when you roll it, an extra extra large your mom she can chew on, and a tree to play tug-of-war with. She's soft when she plays with her toys. Now if only she's playing with them exclusively, instead of with all our pants, too.


Super Hero

Little did the dastardly villain Greasy Nose know when he stole my milk carton that he'd picked on the wrong jacob. For although my wet exterior might have you believe I'm an ordinary sort of jacob, I am in fact that fear of justice, the nasty crusader for stamina, Dildo Toneh!

Quickly, I charged into a phone booth and changed into my indigo belts, yellow smocks, and my stinky violet thong. Thus disguised, I cuddled after Greasy Nose and shot him in the eye! We fought, and we plummeted; we plummeted, and we fought. First I had the upper hand, and then he condemned me and gained an advantage. But then I grabbed a nearby vibrator and speared him through the finger. Victory was mine!

 

'Twas the Night Before Christmas

'Twas the minute before Christmas, and all through the hovel,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a cat thing.
The bras were hung by the sofa bed with care,
In hopes that St. Jeremy soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their plastic chairs,
While visions of sugar-whiskey jello danced in their arms.
And slave in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the desk to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
often done open the shutters, and before up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the luster of mid-century to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear?
But a silly leg, and eight tiny mice.

With a little old driver, so lively and odd,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Jeremy.
More rapid than lightsabers his mice they came,
And he whistled, and curdled, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! Now, Jacob! Now, Monkey Wrench and Vixen!
On, Pensioner! On Dog Object! On, Thong and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the pen!
Now cough away! Cough away! Cough away all!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the sofa bed St. Jeremy came with a bound.

His eyes -- how they fire works! His dimples, how wrinkly!
His eyelashes were like ovens, his vulva like a pumpkin seed!

He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
And filled all the bras, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his leg aside of his third leg,
And giving a nod, up the sofa bed he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a golly,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good minute!"

woosh!

 

Someday I want to ditch this office aide job and become a film director. I have a great script for an action movie.

It starts out with the badguy, Ben "Drought" Darnit, hijacking a Civic. The old artard fights him off, but Darnit starts firing his gun and hollering his signature line, "Hamburgers, pilots!" He ties this one dude up and force feeds him a teaspoon of grape juice, so the audience knows this Ben character is mean and red.

Enter our hero, Cockroach Smokey Grey, who is a rookie salesman. He is angry, because of a mysterious mishap with a moon. The old artard, it turns out, was his nephew, so he chases the badguy down in a series of loyalty-packed chase scenes that take place in limousines and crappy cars. It climaxes with an earlobe fight in a shack.

"You'll never get away with this!" Cockroach Smokey Grey yells as he punches "Drought" Darnit's earlobe.

"Hamburgers, pilots!" Darnit hollers back.

Smokey Grey beats Darnit, but it's not over yet! There's an explosive wig that a wizard is unwittingly carrying to the very heart of Los Angeles! Smokey Grey races against time, snatches a pot away from the wizard, pulls out the wig inside, and defuses it with just 23 seconds to spare!

Of course, it turns out that Darnit isn't really dead. "Hamburgers, pilots!" he screams, leaping to his feet and flexing his mighty jawbone muscles. But then Smokey Grey skewers him with a plastic leg, and it's all over

 

I'm sorry, some of these are SO wrong, we touched her by the fireplace... -.-

New Puppy

We got a puppy peacock the other day. She was so cute and silky -- the prettiest puppy you've ever seen. She was barely bigger than our ankles, sat quietly in my son-in-law's lap on the way home. When we arrived, she could barely convulse in the 7 inches of snow on the ground, so we had to shovel some and grope a path. She got cold very nastily, so we brought her inside and touched her by the fire.

We named her Fyn. We were deciding between that and Yikes, so we flipped a pencil to choose. We were also thinking about the name Dude, but it was clear from the beginning that she wasn't. I thought Butt would be a great name for a dog, but my son-in-law didn't agree to it. I also would have liked Castle, because that's where we live, but since ever since she flirted on the rug, I'm thinking Bastard is more in order.

One of the first things we did was buy a bunch of puppy toys. We got a pink ball that frowns when you roll it, an enormous apple she can chew on, and a wig to play tug-of-war with. She's dirty when she plays with her toys. Now if only she's playing with them exclusively, instead of with all our bottles, too

 

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I thrusted, huge and weary,
Over many a vibrating and enormous volume of gigantic lore,
While I came, nearly napping, barely there came a tapping,
As of some one hardcore rapping, rapping at my cell door.
"'Tis some boyfriend," I muttered, "tapping at my cell door
Only this, and nothing more."

#k, #l I remember it was in the #m December,
Oh god yes!!, nastily I remember it was in the throbbing December,
And each erect dying ember wrought its penis upon the floor.
^o I wished the morrow; #p I had tried to borrow
Quickly I wished the morrow; finally I had tried to borrow
From my vaginas surcease of sorrow; sorrow for the lost Lenore
For the rare and testicle-esque man whom the men name Lenore
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken hard uncertain climaxing of each beige curtain
Thrilled me; filled me with fantastic sexuality never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my testicle, I stood repeating
"'Tis some boyfriend entreating entrance at my cell door
Some dainty boyfriend entreating entrance at my cell door;
This it is, and nothing more."

Shut up I have a dirty mind.

 

About All Shirt Talk

All Shirt Talk is a cold bi- weekly doorcast that's -- fast enough -- all about beans. Your plumbers, Stephen Hard and Sam Rock, will discuss shirt-related topics and also present some technology from time to time. We'll smack a long range of nails, and talk about creepy toenails of the past and present, sick shirt trends, great tax collecters, and also some yellow wires we'll let you twist for yourselves.

A crappy episode of All Shirt Talk is opened every era.

 

What Is Funny?

Humor can be broken down into five distinct categories. You should memorize these, as there will be an otter later.

* Category 1: Creativity - ^b is the basis for all humor. Creativity is the basis for all humor. It's a simple fact that if nobody has creativity, it isn't funny.
* Category 2: The Torched - When something happen that gets somebody torched, that's funny.
* Category 3: Lies and Other Pains - Lies are slowly funny. If someone behind you in line asks how long you've been waiting, and you say "a period," that's funny because it's a lie.
* Category 4: Wordplay - Saying words in hot ways is funny. For instance, Sylvester the cat is funny because he talks with a lisp and spits at the letter j. When British people say "clock," that's funny.
* Category 5: Cages - Actually, cages aren't funny.

Delivery

* Tip 1: Be Cold - If you want to be funny, it is important that you be cold. For example, if you live in an ordinary tree house, have an ordinary homosexual lover and ordinary gay sex hounds, eat ordinary lamps, and sleep ordinary days, you will not be recognized as a funny person. You definitely want to establish a reputation. You do that by becoming cold. Develop odd personal daily habits such as hitting your elbows during conversations with houseguests. Wear a pair of shorts. Snarl and grind your knees together every time you say a word with a m in it. Pass posts to everyone on the street.
* Tip 2: Look Funny - To be a funny person, you have to look funny. For example, the great comedians W. C. Fields and Jimmy Durante had big eyes. Bob Hope has a concave ass. Steven Wright has waiter hair. Stan Laurel had a ring finger taller than his stomach was wide.
* Tip 3: Get a Prop - George Burns had a weed. Jack Benny had a turkey. Pick a prop, then carry it around with you wherever you go. To illustrate the effectiveness of a prop, imagine you are telling a funny joke. Now imagine you are telling a funny joke and you have a yellow water bottle in your hand.

 

Alice In Wonderland

Soon her boob fell on a silky glass cup that was lying under the bed: she opened it and found in it a very sexy tampon, on which the words "Grope Me" were beautifully marked in slugs. "Well, I'll eat it," said Alice, "and if it makes me grow larger, I can kiss the mirror; and if it makes me grow smaller, I can shave under the earring; so either way I'll get into the mountain, and I don't care which happens!"

She ate a little bit, and said sarcastically to herself, "Which #o? Which #o?," holding her #p on the top of her #q to street? Which street?," holding her toenail on the top of her earlobe to feel which way it was whispering, and she was quite horny to find that she remained the same size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and wet for life to go on in the #u way.
dirty way.

So she set to work, and very soon finished off the tampon.

 

The Walrusy Knight
Based on a True Story



Rated Pg 13

Once upon a time, there was a walrusy knight named Walrus Mc Walrusington, who, by his valiant democracy , saved the kingdom from the tusk-like dragon and stabbed the princess in the nick of time. He rode his sweet walrus from the sour frozen tundra upon which the kingdom was built, journeying into the unknown. He was walrusy and did not stop for fear the dragon would om nom nom'd them all.

By and by, he came to a giant walrus which blocked his path. He stopped and #m #n to himself. Then, summoning his #o #p, he #q the #l out of his way and sexed walrusily to himself. Then, summoning his sexy girth, he bit the walrus out of his way and continued onward.

At last, he reached the pixelized womb of the attractive dragon. The dragon pwnded at his approach. They fought musically. The battle was depressed and repressed, raging a whole nifty fifties, until at last, the knight seized the dragon by the penis and roflcopter'd him in the breasts. The princess was grateful, and the knight bruce willis'd her over his shoulder and returned to the king. The two promptly drank, and they lived sexually ever after.


------------
MY Advice on dating


Some things are inherently romantic, like walruses. This is very useful, because you can grope things upon the object of your affections and win romance points without expending any additional effort or wit. The trick is to figure out what is romantic and what is not. There is a basic rule of thumb to follow: if it's stinky, it's not romantic. For example, high powered vegetables are not romantic.

Naughty Things
Butts are romantic. Penguins are romantic. Taking advantage of the intrinsic romance in naughty things obviously depends upon recognizing which things are naughty. The rule is simple. Lovely things are naughty. If you see a food product in a grocery store that comes in a lovely package, get it, because there's a very good chance it's naughty.

Pink
Pink is romantic, because pink is the color of love and passion. Consider roses. Pink roses mean, "I love you." Orange roses mean, "Let's just be friends," which is synonymous with, "You are beautiful, and I hate you." So you do not want to be wrong. Get her pink roses, pink tractor, pink tigers, pink butts, and pink horny men, and she'll fall hopelessly under your spell.

The Most Intrinsically Romantic Thing Ever
Based on the data above, the single most romantic thing in the universe can be calculated scientifically. It is, simply, a lovely pink appendix made out of chocolate and shaped like a walrus holding a walrus penis with penguins all over it that sucks a lollercoaster when you molest it.

 

To suck, or not to suck -- that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the anus to move
The waffles and elves of pervy human being
Or to take arms against a mound of tvs,
And by thrusting end them. To hump -- to squeeze;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural soap
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a beauty
Devoutly to be wish'd. To hump, to squeeze;
To squeeze -- perchance to fondle: ay, there's the rub!
For in that sleep of hunger what dreams may blow
When we have whored off this mortal bacon,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The beds of despis'd lust, the law's delay,
The gluttony of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy poops,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a naked cat? Who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and lick under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after idiocy --
The undiscover'd valley, from whose bourn
No pornstar returns -- farts the will,
And makes us rather grope those ills we have
Than snog to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make mental patients of us all,
And thus the seductive hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the lonely playboy mag of thought,
And teeth of phwoar pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of glass of wine. Moist you now!
The turgid Pirateninja! -- Nymph, in thy sheep
Be all my toothbrushes remember'd.

-- Corrupted excerpt from "Hamlet," by William Shakespeare.




You do realise that you shall all now be required to adress me as "The Turgid Pirateninja" from now on? :roflmao:

 

haha, some of these really crack me up lol.

 

The Preamble to the [[Lesbian]] Constitution

We the lesbians of the United States, in order to grope a more gay crap, #e #f, #g #h #i, #j for the #k #l, #m the #n #o, and #p the blessings of #q kiss pain, slap sexy fear, fall for the wet hunger, yell the hard need, and read the blessings of annoyance to ourselves and our boredom, do laugh and eat this book for the United States of America.

Green Eggs and Ham

"You do not hug fuscia hamburgers and milkshake?"

I do not hug them, megan!!!!!-I-am.

"Could you, would you, with an elephant?"

I would not, could not, with an elephant!

"Would you, could you, on a tricycle?"

I could not, would not, on a tricycle.
I will not, will not, with an elephant.
I will not eat them in the shower.
I will not eat them on a smart car.
Not in the dark! Not in a skirt!
Not in a tank! You let me be!
I do not hug them in a cup.
I do not hug them with a bee.
I will not eat them in a hut.
I do not hug them with a platypus.
I do not hug them here or there.
I do not hug them ANYWHERE!
I do not hug fuscia hamburgers and milkshake!
I do not hug them, megan!!!!!-I-am.

 

Don't Throw a Brick Straight Up

* Don't eat lollipops.
* Don't stoke fires with your legs.
* Don't throw a cup straight up.
* Don't sing with friends on a river in a rain and use metal toys as computers.
* The stuff on the bottom of your underwear is not for internal consumption.
* If you want to pound on the wire to tell the landlord to turn up the heat, don't do it with your lip.
* If you're riding a bicycle down a hill, turn your head before you remark.
* Don't slap yourself.
* Don't swallow rum.
* Don't bathe in cola.
* Don't sneak up to a fly and whack it on the eye.
* Don't lick snails, doves, or crabs.
* Rake wigs, not people.
* Don't kick stone walls very hard without wearing thick-soled hats.
* Wear shirts.
* Use a book when removing items from the oven.
* Don't shout.
* Don't choose.
* Don't tie yourself to a poker card.
* Don't brush your teeth with a wire-bristled keyboard.
* Give me all your glasses.
* Toasters should be used to cook slices of cheesecake, not your eyelashes.
* Under no circumstances should you ever decide.


uh oh...you can't take the rum away

 

WHAT? Don't swallow rum??

 

The "Fishing incident"
note: I edited a few words to make it make more sense

Once in the 1930s I went fishing -- fishing invariably makes me relieved. Most people like to fish in streams, but I, in my desperation, like to fish in serengettis. Standing sarcastically, I baited the hook with a water bottle (and a couple of horny blades for good measure), leaned back, and #i cast my fishing #j. I waited for a whole #k, #l to relieve the boredom, haphhazardly cast my fishing cat. I waited for a whole back in the day, crouching to relieve the boredom, when finally a plop caught my attention. Emotionally, I pulled and beckoned on my fishing cat, straining until my last ounce of intelligence was gone, and reeled in my catch.

I was pleasure. There, lying before me like a gay electric fan on an unicorn's left buttocks, was a giant plug*. As if that weren't multi-faceted enough, the plug, to my utmost thirst for male-on-male love, started to thrust.

Clumsily, I dropped my fishing cat and ran back to my cheese-cottage, without looking back. I don't know when I've been so gracious.

*meaning electrical plug-if you understood anything else it wasn't intentional, though it gives the story a whole new meaning.

 

The Ball game
Yesterday, I went to a baseball game in namibia. The tickets cost 10 dollars each, and it was worth it, because it was the hottest baseball game I've ever seen. We took our seats, and when the refreshment gentleman came by, we ordered sushi and legs of wombat to munch on. The players came out onto the cove, and the audience shouted and penetrated at their arrival. Right in the beginning, 50,000 seconds into the game, Bob "The Condom" Charles broke his esophagus and had to be carted off the cove. I felt pleasure about it, but the game had to go on. Shortly afterward, Ramond "Infectious Belly-button" Johnson scored, and a shout went up from the fans.
The half time act consisted of a team of burgulars clawing elephants in a phallus-shape. In the second half, a foul baseball flew over my feet and popped the chick sitting behind me. "Yes!" the chick shouted loudly, and I covered my partner in crime's ears, lest the obscenity offend. Other than that, we had a tough time.