Oh dear, such a dilemma. Should I? No. But I will anyway…
[sub]squick[/sub]
You can have his. Oscar is not too happy about this though.
I wish I didn’t have to go to the grocery store to replenish my food supplies.
fffffffffffffffffffffjeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew
Rotorhead does not need to go to the grocery store to replenish his food supplies. Why? Because he was in an a planecrash above the andes. You are the only survivor and there is no food.
Luckely fat mrs anderson died yesterday so start up the barbecue.
I wish that supermodel would call me back
Hello Back. (Everyone calls you that now.)
I wish Cecil would grace this thread.
Thanks for my new nickname j_sum1. thanks to you they all think I’m gay. Even that supermodel.
prrrrrrrrroef
My sister Cecil (who has been voted most ugly girl in school since school) has graced your thread with pleasure. She only wants a weekend in Vegas in return.
I wish my nickname would change from back into stud
DDDRRRRRRTTTTTT
Hey, there, sport “stud” shoe! It’s quite an honor, getting that nickname from the houseframing crew for your amazing ability to rough in walls as fast as that! The contractor, however, is getting a bit annoyed at how out of plumb they are, especially after your lunches at Freddy’s Bar and Grill.
I wish I could get the cat hair out of my keyboard.
[[[ta-da-dum]]]
You get the cat hairs out using a pair of tweezers and a piece of bubble gum. You get more and more hair out, then you start to realize, this isn’t cat hair, it’s too short and too curly, urggh gross!
I wish I didn’t dream about being rushed to hospital and having to be thrown to a man in a lake to take me there after an overdose of happy pills that weren’t really happy pills, and could just have sane dreams like normal people have.
Crrrrrrrrrooooooo!!!
Aaahh!!
You’ve had a sumptuous backrub. Here comes the frontrub! Yeeeessss!! The couple of siderubs and the toprub are equally good. Next comes the bottomrub. Weeeelaah!! I know you didn’t ask for one, but these rubs come as a set!
And last is the inside rub! Guurggggle! Your stomach fluids drip seductively over your liver as your lymph nodes are expertly massaged into wonderful numbness! As your bones are polished clean your sense of consciousness passes through bliss into blissful non-existence…
I wish for my 9 am interview tomorrow to be moved to a more decent time of the day
Oops… Was at the bottom of the penultimate page… Well, that wish didn’t get granted berfore anyway 
bippy, you now have sane dreams. you sleep like a baby. but when you wake up, real life begins. it begins with being rushed to hospital and having to be thrown to a man in a lake to take you there after an overdose of happy pills that weren’t really happy pills
I wish Bippy would have a nice beard
OK, let’s see if a newbie can set things right…
Bippy-
Fortunately, the dreams don’t bother you anymore - they’ve stopped coming.
Unfortunately, this is a direct result of your raging case of insomnia. You haven’t slept a wink in the last seven days, and have been strolling down Sepulveda Blvd in your flannel jammies, bunny slippers and tattered bathrobe. Clutching a Tickle-Me-Elmo doll that’s stuck in giggle mode. You have, amazingly, begun to sprout a 5-o’clock shadow (not saying where). The nice men in the white coats are stalking you as we speak.
Puggyfish-
wish granted. Your meeting has been re-scheduled to 12:30.
Err… that’s 12:30 GMT-12. Hope that suits you.
I wish I had found this site sooner, so my post count was higher.
snip snip
Bippy the Beardless gets bearded. A nice one, too, last worn by that famous 19th century Populist senator from Kansas, William Pfeffer. (OK, not famous, but an editorial cartoonist’s dream. Bill’s beard was something like three feet long.)
Of course, that user name will have to go. You become Bippy the Overlybearded. The worst thing is, your post count is reset to 1. (OK, not much of a corruption, unless you’re the sort to equate SDMB post count with IQ.)
(Primesite, I wish you’d found this site sooner, too, so that I wouldn’t have typed the above before your post popped up. Ahem.)
clackity clack
Your post count is so high that it has to be expressed in scientific notation. Cecil Adams is so impressed that he decides that you must be the world’s second smartest person, at least. So he calls on you to retest the theorum regarding the echoness of a duck’s quack. Alas, you misunderstand something, and are arrested for attempting to prove a certain old rhymed exclamation concering a duck. [Welcome to Doperdom!]
Aside to ETF: I’m a bit disappointed you don’t remember, er, fixing me up with Ann Coulter. I sure won’t forget it - first time in my life I felt compelled to wear seven condoms at once. . . .
I wish pigs could fly. Just think of all the obscure promises we all’d have to keep!
oinkoinkoinksizzle
Pigs can fly, all right, BJMoose. They can also defecate in midflight. Yes, that is a lynch mob headed toward you.
Of course, you’re providentially provided with seven condoms from your date with Ann Coulter, since you never actually came to the point of needing them (funny what a running chainsaw can do to a guy’s libido, eh?). So the pig droppings (and I do mean droppings) don’t harm you; it’s all those people who’ve been forced to make good on promises they thought they could safely ignore that decide to spit you and roast you.
I wish I had a pulled pork sandwich right now.
<< defeated by the fact that ‘pulled pork sandwich’ isn’t a euphamism for any known sexual act, the Genii desides to attribute it to an unknown sexual act >>
After 30 frantic minutes of intense farmyard fun Three Cats tidies up her clothing and reaplies makeup before returning to the thread. ‘That was indeed exciting’ she mused, ‘but next time I’d better find a larger piglet and bring more vaseline.’
I wish I had a video of ETF’s ‘pulled pork sandwich’ experiment.
I hereby grant Bippy’s wish for a video of ETF’s ‘pulled pork sandwich’ experiment. However, said video comes at the very end of a DVD containing “Rip Taylor’s Christmas Hoo-Hah! Spectacular,” featuring duets by The New Monkees and Barbara Streisand, and Huey Lewis with backup vocals by Peaches and Herb.
Sadly, this DVD cannot be fast-forwarded, else the disc repeats, and forces you to sit through movie trailers for “Benji: The Hunted” and “The Adventures of Ford Fairlane.”
I wish superheroes were real.
:: xorph ::
Superheroes are real, Chastain86. Unfortunately, so are the supervillains and monsters that they battle.
Crash! Biff! Boom! Ker-AMM!
The fifth time your house gets vapourised by The Black Flame, or stomped by Gigantor, or ‘cleaned up’ by Bubbles, The Psychotic Janitor, you decide to leave town.
More and more people are doing the same. The economy of the great cities is in collapse, even without the effects of repairing the damage from the constant hero/villain battles.
You die, destitute, in a ditch near Fresno, seconds before the area is mutated into incomprehensibility by Gödel, the Green Mule.
I wish I could get around town by helicopter-taxi… free of charge.
[aside]This thread is hilarious. It may even be worthy of the halls of fame.[/aside]
You can get arround town by HELLi-taxi, unfortunately HELLi-taxi drivers are no more skillful than ground taxi drivers, so it still takes forever to get to your destination.
I wish I could get a good cheap Christmas present for my Sister-in-law’s Mum.
*ca-CHING
You’ve found the perfect cheap Christmas gift for your sister-in-law’s Mum, all right. Too bad everyone else in the family had the same idea, and by the time she’s gotten around to opening yours, she’s developed a rather grim set to her mouth.
I wish I could be sure of getting everyone what they really want this year.
- Oo-ee, oo-ah-ah, ting-tang, walla-walla-bing-bang! *
Everyone gets what they really want this year, and six billion+ copies of your pulled pork sandwich experiment are shipped round the world. Your video is more popular than the Dancing Baby and the Paris Hilton amateur porn video. Better start enjoying your 15 minutes of fame, the world is about to beat a path to your door.
I wish I had some more butane for my cheap ass lighter.
lalalalalalaaaa…
EddyTeddyFreddy, you’re sure that your choices for Christmas presents are the best. They aren’t–in fact they’re hilariously inappropriate–but no-one seems able to convinve you of that.
The day approaches. You are happy in your certitude, and you don’t notice hpw your friends and acquaintances are starting to cringe a bit whenever you enter the room.
I wish my friend’s car was paid off.