This is my room!
And I need a beer coozie. Oh Falcon, bring those breasts over here!
AHEM! I’m still waiting for my margarita…
Sheesh, the service here is terrible.
::Throws a beer bong into S-fox’s mouth, dumps in half a pitcher of margaritas::
Wow!
She swallows!
Actually, ::exchanges Coke for Root Beer, which is his all-time favorite, slightly edging out Cream Soda:: . . . there we go. Now suppose we put some more clothes on you [smiley deleted by - er, for ChiefScott].
Now let’s get away from ChiefScott, as he looks a bit antsy . . .
WooHoo… a party!
Hey Chiefscott… I brought you ummm this huge watermelon I have here in my arms… We can cut a hole in it and pour vodka in it. YUMMY!
::Casually strolls around the place::
What’s up Iampunha?
Nice to see you tiggeril!
Long time no see Falcon!
Why are there panties lying around everywhere?
Ummm… what kind of party is this again?
First off, yep, I have the laptop with me. So I can post from the hotel. grins Hell, we can have a “as it happens” thread for the Dopefest tomorrow…
Second, a BEER COOZIE? You WISH, sailorboy!!! Now go fetch me a margarita, dammit! slides into hot tub (Of course, I just got OUT of the hot tub here at the hotel…)
Third, yo Chief! Just tried to call, but they said you were gone for the night…gimme a call if you can.
If you insist… rips off iampunha’s shirt and puts it on It’s a little big, but it’ll work.
**
tiggeril sidles away
I hope we can all understand why I first read this as felch, not fetch.
Tiggeril, I meant your own clothes . . . but I don’t see anyone objecting. And why would my shirt be a bit big for you? Your chest is larger than mine.
:::Persephone rushes in breathlessly:::
Dammit! Give me those panties!
:::yanks French cut panties from the sill:::
I was just driving by this place with my husband and children, on our way to Discovery Zone for some good, clean, wholesome family entertainment, when all of a sudden I see my panties hanging from a window! Jesus! Now I’ve got some explaining to do! Help me think of an exc…oh no. Shadowfox, you get away from me with that lighter and 151. You just stay away.
…must…not…light…hand…on…fire…
Persephone, you wanna explain this beaver-ish thing your son is playing with?
Why, thank you :D… I meant height-wise, by the way
Christ! What is my son doing in here?
Oh wait. There’s women, fire, and beer in here.
Sigh. Okay, he can have a beer. But if you guys decide to start lighting farts, just aim away from the baby, please. And we should probably keep the wombat away from him too.
I’m here, and I brought the caterers from Hooters. Now where is Anniz, I must get a better look at those panties…
C’mere boy! Now hit me! Really…hit me as hard as you can.
OUCH!
::heads to the food, gets some wings, bitch-slaps a Hooters girl::
Skank.
::flounces off::
For some reason, that strikes me as extremely hilarious.
I aim to please, xizor…
Um, yeah . . . one would assume that, as I’m a guy who doesn’t obsessively lift (in fact, not at all, right now) . . .
Tiggeril, this ain’t a creative-writing contest . . . you don’t have to think up a new word for being bouncy and otherwise full of sugar.
BTW, Persephone, “I was just driving by this place with my husband and children,” I think that explains what your son was doing here.
And Demo, that punching pad is supposed to go where he’s punching . . .
Anyone up for a game of bloody knuckles?
Really?! hmmmmmmmm… So many dirty thoughts, so little time…
But iampunha, I left him in his car seat, in the car, with my husband and daughter!
Oh well. I think they left, anyway.
Demo! No giving the baby 151! Lite beer only! And get those panties off of his head! Geez! He’ll learn how to do that on his own soon enough!