Well, I’ve fed the cat, told my kids that Mommy is going on a trip to the moon (my daughter was mightily impressed), and told my husband I’m going shopping (he’s tougher to impress than the kids).
So, let’s fire this puppy up and hit the stratosphere! I’ve had a few rolls in the hay, but I’ve never had this much power under my butt. I’m looking forward to it.
Changing my sig, because Wally said to, and I really like Wally, and I’ll do anything he says, anytime he says to.
Space shuttle!? This from a group of people who put Dinty Moore stew in the microwave–still in the can–and sprinkle Tang into flat beer and call it breakfast?
Oh, what the hell, I’m in.
Crick, lose the kilt–ya don’t wanna wear it in zero grav, kiddo–and grab the charred weasel thing. We’ll pass it off as a highly valuable experiment. The poor thing has everything else done to it.
Now for important space issues: what do we pitch out to make room for the booze, and how do we handle the floating barf/stray chip stuff?
I suggest butterfly nets.
And oh, yeah…anyone know how to hijack a space shuttle? Chief Scott? ::koff:: even if we paint it black and call it the “Smiley Death Probe”?
Hot damn, I missed the Guy Stuff–even if I’m not, in precise biological terms, a guy. Good move, Wally. And no sweat, we ain’t goin’ without ya.
Grinning like a mule eating thistles,
Veb
Well, after looking around, I must admit, it’s a nice little thread ya got going here. Not quite as long as the Flat Earth Thread, but, it makes a whole lot more sense. You know, logical, pertinent, and (belch) consistent. Yeah, I could get along here.
On two occasions I have been asked [by members of Parliament], ‘Pray, Mr. Babbage, if you put into the machine wrong figures, will the right answers come out?’ I am not able rightly to apprehend the kind of confusion of ideas that could provoke such a question. – **Charles Babbage, ** (1792-1871)
Good fuckin’ God in Gdansk. It LIVES!!!
Somebody give me a beer shower, I’m feeling kinda crusty.
“A bird in the hand is the Devil’s workshop; it is the goose that laid the bad apple.” - TennHippie
Lessee, , VB counts on his fingers >
we got yer Babes, we got yer beer, we got yer cheez doodles, we got yer cat doodles,
(What?!! No pussy in space? ALL ships have to have a cat!) we got yer barf bags, we got yer bongs, we got yer ‘training films’ we got yer hot peppermint oil wiggles eyebrows, we got yer lava lamp, we got yer black lights & day-glo posters, we got yer bean bag chairs, we got yer beaded doorway!
Oh, and not least, we got yer Holy Hand Grenade ("…five is right out!")
to get on board with!
This oughta be one helluva flight! Viva Guy Thread! Buuuurrrrrrppp!
VB
I could never eat a mouse raw…their little feet are probably real cold going down. :rolleyes:
Any chance we’ll run into that Warhol fella out there? Me and him still got some unfinished business.
Excelsior! We’re Going to the Moon! Excelsior!
Dr. Watson
“That’s one small step for a man, one giant belch for mankind.”
VB! Glad you could join us! Now where’s Sealemon…I believe he and I have some unfinished business from the LAST go-around with this thread.
grabs bottle of JD, downs half of it And yo Coldfire! I still say I can drink you under the table!
“You are sweet, kind, and considerate… Like a grown up boy scout with tits!”
Pix stumbles in, shouts out, “I love you guys! To the moon with you!” and wanders out again. She knows when she’s out of her league.
I’m right here, Falcon. I’m just looking over the blueprints of the shuttle.
Now let’s see, we can put the moose shlong there and the burnt, shaved pussy can ride here, and the alcohol can go here, and here, and here, and a keg overthere.
Food? Well, I got some Spaghetti-O’s. That, along with the cheese doodles, beef jerky, and pork rinds, oughta keep us going!
And you’re right, Falc. We definatly have some unfinished business! In space, no one can hear you squeel! Muh HAHAHAHAHAHAA!
You say “cheesy” like that’s a BAD thing.
This is a great opportunity to conduct an experiment.
I’ve always wondered about the effects of puking in zero gravity.
I love science. Pass the tequila.
I don’t have to do drugs to mess up my head. I went to Catholic school.
Glad to be aboard, Falcon! I’m set to go with my flight suit on; won’t even have to change!
Hey Seale, if you goose her just right, you can even get some ‘whoops’ out of her, too!
I found that out in the Library at Buckys’ mansion! 
Actually, I think the moose schlong would look best hanging from the rear view, don’t you?
VB
I could never eat a mouse raw…their little feet are probably real cold going down. :rolleyes:
< VB pulls a bottle of Aquavit from the leg pocket on his suit >
Oh Falcon sweetie, if you’re gonna drink Coldfire under the table, this might help; however, in free fall, what defines ‘under’?
VB
I could never eat a mouse raw…their little feet are probably real cold going down. :rolleyes:
Hold it!
Hold it!
Hold it!!
We’er goin’ ta space, we need Moon Pies!
(Burp) Think food groups, people.
Y’all sure we got enough beer?
<p align=“CENTER”>Tris</P>
I hate quotations.
–Ralph Waldo Emerson
Hey, if you’re bringing moon pies it behooves you to bring Big Red, or at least some grape Nehi for the radar!
VB
I could never eat a mouse raw…their little feet are probably real cold going down. :rolleyes:
Dances into the thread for the first time, gets distracked by the Cheese puffs and the Moose… isnt looking where he is going…
BUMP
oops…
J
“Cast a cold Eye, On Life, On Death, Horseman, ride by”
W.B. Yeats
Do Do Do, Dododo, Do do do…Do dododo DO…
The final countdown…dododo…
You say “cheesy” like that’s a BAD thing.
You gotta do the countdown, Eric.
I never could count backwards.
If the anestheologist asks me to do that, I don’t know what I’m going to do.
Maybe they’ll let me count in Ukranian.
What about my experiment for the technicolour yawn in zero gravity? Are we still on for that?
I don’t have to do drugs to mess up my head. I went to Catholic school.
Wally, honey…counting backwards for the gas passer will be a cinch. When I had surgery they gave the “don’t give a damn shot”, I sang (badly) most of the way to the operating room, and made it to “8” before conking out.
Do you really, really think this bunch of drunks and zoned out weirdos could count to 10 forwards!? Come blast off time we’ll probably be squabbling over tequila, Cheese Doodles and which CD to play. Some doofus–possibly Uncle Beer–will shout, "gentlemen, start yer engines! and then Coldfire will counter with European car stuff, and you could list the ingredients for your favorite clam dip and this crew wouldn’t notice.
And if you want to do the first technicolor yawn, you’re gonna have some tough competition.
But hey guys, whaddya say we let Wally staple the moose schlong to a hockey stick and plant it on the moon, sorta like a symbol or something??
Veb
Hey! I like that “schlong on a stick” idea. I think it would serve as a “heads up” to any aliens that might be cruising by.
Alien 1: What the bazorquink is that?
Alien 2: I don’t know, honey, but I think we’d better keep moving.
Didn’t they already do barf testing in space? Seems like I read something in “Doonesbury” about that. We need to test some other things. You know, some other things!
:::wink wink:::
Changing my sig, because Wally said to, and I really like Wally, and I’ll do anything he says, anytime he says to.
Shameless hussy.
No wonder I love ya.
I don’t have to do drugs to mess up my head. I went to Catholic school.