bibibibibibibibibi
sunspace your sexy enthusiastic girlfriend isn’t insane or a murderer. She now is insane and a murderer.
Honey what are you doing with that knife??? Honey put that down. Honey??? NOOOOOOOOOO
I wish I could run faster than hairy french girls.
sportshoe, you can now run faster than hairy French girls, but you can still be outrun by members of the East German Women’s Weightlifting team, who are also, quite hairy themselves.
I wish I could come up with some witty wish corruptions.
flooooooooooop
xayoz306 can now come up with some witty wish corruptions. He is so witty all girls love him. Even the hairy French girls and the German womens weightlifting team leave Sportshoe’s harem and start stalking him. ** Sportshoe** sighs in relief.
I wish that the BJ in [BJMoose’s** name stands for Blow Job so they put him in jail for animal cruelty. (that will teach him to set me up with hairy chicks AGAIN)
No need to teach me. It comes naturally. . .
Hmmmm. How does one go about corrupting a wish concerning one’s self? I could point out that the recipients sure didn’t think it was cruel. Nah, too easy. Wait a minute. Since the wish was for something bad, then the corruption must be something good. Woohoo!
donk-donk (ala Lawn Order)
“Thou are sentenced to 69 years of hard labor for bestial behaviour to beasts and punning beyond all limits of human endurance. Next case.”
The Moronic Moose is led off to Sing-Sing-Sing (named in honor of an old Benny Goodman song). He is thrown in a cell with a groundhog named Phil Lacio and a bullfrog (cowfrog?) called Connie Lingus. Together they hatch a plot to a) break out of prison; b) secure world domination (you think the French have been a nuisance, wait 'til you see what we do to poor old Belgium); c) go on the talk show circuit, preaching free love and backrubs for quadrupeds.
Bullwinkle meets the redheaded moosette of his dreams and stops having wet dreams.
The end. No hamsters were harmed in the production of this post.
Wish I could remember some of those witty wishes I thought up last night.
BJMoose can now remember all the witty wishes he thought up last night, allas in the cold light of day they just don’t seem all that witty after all. He does still wish he had his old teddy bear though.
I wish I hadn’t eaten so much for lunch.
chompchompchompBURRRRRP
Bippy, you didn’t eat so much for lunch. In fact, you ate very little. This left you so hungry by suppertime that you ate three pepperoni pizza slices, six hot dogs, three packages of macaroni and cheese, two Big Macs with supersize fries, a slice of apple pie, four packages of Twinkies, and a Diet Coke. Now you’re really sorry.
I wish I’d never taught my cat Squash to fetch – he’s more fanatical than a golden retriever.
catcatcatcatcatcadaaaaaa
you never taught your cat Squash to fetch. Instead, the incredible hulk taught your cat. The cat now fetches only heavy material and she does it only when she is mad. That evening you step on her tail by accident and Squatch turns green. She fetches you a clip round the ears making your head turn 180. But you aren’t an owl and dont have that ability given by nature so you drop dead to the floor. You get fetched up in the garbage container, a feast for crows.
I wish for a nice quiet weekend.
<__________>
Sportshoe has a nice quiet weekend. No hairy Frenchies. No German weightlifters. No romps in the sack with a cross-dressing Saddam Hussein. No antics from an octave of cats. No moronic mooses. Everything is, in the words of the old carol, Still, Still, Still.
Monday morning comes around. You oversleep because you didn’t hear the alarm. Your breakfast is cold because you didn’t hear the microwave beep when it was finished. As the day proceeds you slowly realized why you had a nice, quiet weekend: you’ve gone stone deaf.
I wish I had my old Teddy bear.
One evening, Bjmoose hears a noice at the back door. He opens it and to his surprise finds his old teddybear. He is overjoyed and takes it upstairs and cuddles it, kisses it, strokes it and sleeps with it all night. In the morning when he gets his newspaper from his porch, he runs into his neighbor. The neighbor tells him he found his old teddybear and did not want to disturb him so late so he left it at the back door. Where did you find it, Bjmoose asked. Well said the neighboor, I found it at the old city animal shelter. It was used to “satisfy” randy dogs so they could take it for a ride. You better wash it before you touch it because the shelter has been closed for bad hygene.
I wish dogs would go potty
All the dogs have gone barking mad. They all now believe that they are Edwardian Carol singers. Each evening at arround 10.30 a pack of dogs arrives at your front door and start howling the 12 days of Christmas and they won’t stop until you give them all a farthing for their trouble.
I wish EddyTeddyFreddySquash was named after ALL her cats.
barkalounger
Your genii presumes you mean you wish dogs were toilet trained. Hokey-dokey. Doubtless, you earn the world’s undying gratitude.
One practical problem, though. Now it seems that every time you go to the can, the throne is occupied by a Doberman Pinscher who’s reading the Times and puffing on a cigar and is in absoultely no hurry to finish his business. This happens every time you need to go. After becoming personally acquainted with the trickle-down theory, you realize there is but one solution, and you pick up the habit of pissing on every bush you pass, as do the rest of us. (As Oral Roberts used to say, “Something good is going to happen to you.” Bwa-ha-ha.)
I wish Cecil Adams would be our next president.
******** :eek: ********
You got your wish, Bippy. Now the poster formerly known as ETF is EddyTeddyFreddySophieSylviaSerenaSquashPumpkin – and you’re not allowed to use the acronym. No one can read the thread names in the forum because the OP name takes up so much column width; the threads themselves are compressed to two inches’ width; the hamsters go on strike in disgust; and you’re banned for Being A Jerk Wisher.
You’re reinstated, though, when Cecil Adams becomes President and declares a general amnesty. However, President Adams’ insistence on logic, correct information, and honesty in government policy, practice, and communications sends the entire country into an uproarious, multi-track trainwreck, and in the confusion your computer is stolen, never to be seen again.
I wish my couch grew potatoes so I never had to buy them again.
… flarg …
ETF, your couch grows potatoes in such abundance that you never have to buy them again.
It grows so many potatoes that it has to bend the structure of reality to contain them. In fact, it has to add nine more dimensions to have a hope of fitting them in. Yes, these are the dreaded twelve-dimensional potatoes, the mere rumours of whose arrival drove several previous wish-recipients mad.
And you get to experience then firsthand. Have fun! The men in the white coats will soon be by to pick up the pieces of your addled brain.
I wish I won a million dollars in the lottery.
¡PING!
You win $1,000,000 in the lottery but thanks to a new state policy it will be paid out in the sum of $1 per year for 1,000,000 years. You can, of course, take the lump some of $50 but that wouldn’t even cover the price of the 100 tickets you bought to win the million.
I wish this writers’ block would go away.
**** :smack: ****
Your writer’s block goes away. In its place you now have logorrhea, and must write and write and write without stopping as the words come pouring out uncontrollably until there aren’t any left in your head.
I wish I had a reason to use the :wally smilie.
You now have a reason to use the :wally smilie.
because your computer has been haunted with the patz virus.
all you type will from now on appear as :wally
Its easy to get rid of the virus, all you have to do is
:wally :wally :wally :wally :wally :wally :wally :wally :wally
shit its contagious.
I wish I wasn’t so vulnerable to contaminations
:wally :eek: :wally :eek: :wally :smack:
Wish granted, sportshoe! No longer are you vulnerable to contamination. No, you now are fully armored against any and all taint, infection, corruption, or degradation.
You discover that this protective layer is so impervious to anything that could possibly harm you that chocolate, cheesecake, and sex are now forbidden you. :eek:
I wish I hadn’t made those peanut butter cookies last night – they’re meant as gifts, but they smell so good!
etfssssp
You didn’t bake peanut butter cookies last night (and we’ll ignore what you did instead - rumor mill says something about you dyeing your hair red and fishing for moose, but I don’t believe it for a minute. An hour, maybe, but not for a minute. Anyway. . .).
That oh-so-tempting aroma is gone, and so it cannot mask the odor of eight cats hitting the litter box at once (how big is it, anyway?). But that is not the corruption.
With no cookies, you have no gifts. Your intended recipients notice their failure to get cookies from ETFetc.. They boycott your threads.
In a few weeks you are flaming yourself in the Pit, just to have someone to talk to.
I wish I could appear in a production of The Nutcracker.
Bjmoose you now can appear in a production of “The nutcracker”
But because you have no experience in dancing, let alone ballet.
you need to look like a balerina so some drastic modifications need to be done.
They break your legs to have that nice X-effect, your feet are twisted so you can stand on your tips, liposuction, facelift, facepeeling, singing lessons, eyes lazered, hair extentions and if you are a man (how can I know if someone is m or f?) your nuts cracked.
the day of the opening, DDay, première day, an hour before the curtain you drop stone dead. your body just couldn’t take it anymore.
I wish chocolate, cheesecake, and sex are no longer forbidden for me but part of my important diet.
gobblegobblegobblesplurrrrrge
sportshoe, you can now have chocolate, cheesecake, and sex. In fact, you’re required to down six large cheesecakes and several pounds of chocolate each day. Even your fluid intake is entirely chocolate shakes (or frappes, when you’re in eastern Massachusetts). You quickly balloon to 342 pounds, making sex, while still theoretically possible, immensely improbable. The lack of love in your life isn’t a problem for long, though, since your arteries clog shut before you can say “myocardial infarction.”
I wish I hadn’t baked brownies tonight. There goes my diet again!