And I in turn bow to your god-like Google search query capabilities. Crikey, I can’t get the answer off the Internet and I know the name of the movie. (Sorry, I forgot there was a Spike character in BtVS and in no way wished you to rifle through endless pages of soft-core Buffy fanfic pr0n.) Unless you already knew the answer, in which case you’re a turd and I withdraw my puckered lips from your Photoshopped ass. ::hands over a case of Scooby Snacks and a gallon of flaming hot red pepper extract surreptitiously labeled “Cheez-Whiz”::
Baker, I also like pie. I will readily throttle any two people you point out for really yummy chocolate cream pie. I will scare small children for hot apple pie with whipped cream. I will sing “I’m a little teapot” for a good punkin pie.
So are we leaning towards gettin’ jiggy at your digs, Skip? I can deal with the ghost but Waldo has got to go. The guy gives me the creeps and I’ve heard that he’s wanted as Patient Zero in the recent ebola outbreaks in southern Chile. And I lied about the lime jello. I hate the stuff. But if you can whip up a bathtub full of creamy white country gravy (properly spiced) I’d be willing to flop around in it become a human gravy-scicle for everyone to enjoy. :eek: I can’t believe I just wrote that. Do not hit Submit, do not hit Subm
Horseflesh, my secret is thus divulged here. I nearly searched in vain for that “Sorry, Spike” reference and almost gagged on all that BtVS crap. I googled “Spike”, “Sorry”, “Groin”, “Crotch” and saw nothing but fan tributes to the sexual side of a bleached -blond vampire. But then (I know you’re shivering in anticipation) as a last attempt I googled “Sorry”, “Spike” and–ahem–“Penis” and came up with that site! Oh yeah, never underestimate the power of the web and penisssss. Peni?
My place it is, then! Does anyone have any objections and/or suggestions for better locations? 'Cause I don’t want to offend anyone by grabbing all the glory for myself by hosting all of you Dopeka transients. And, once again, I have extra room for those who need/want/signed a pact with the devil to stay the night. No worries.
Baker, you beautiful woman, I second Horseflesh’s request for a chocolate cream pie. I’d smoke a pack of camels for a chance at that pie–nevermind what I’d do with the humps and Bedouins after I was finished. (Do camels travel in packs? Or flocks?)
Horseflesh, stop it with the saucy bathtub images! Don’t you know that Auntie Em is a functioning prude? Hester Prynne she is not! Please help us in helping her from falling off the wagon. (If you don’t get help at Charter, please, get help somewhere.)
Next up: see if you recognize these lines before you start googling. Thus, from one of my favorite bad 80s movies: Mabel: You poor thing. Pirates! You mean like walking the plank? Buried treasure? Hack, slash, off with his head, and the Jolly Richard, and everything? Frederic: Roger. Mabel: Oh, Roger I love it. Frederic: No, Frederic without a “k.” Mabel: Mabel, also without a “k.” God, we have so much in common.
Might have?! It’s a frickin’ month + away! What the hell do you have to do that’s more important than throwing jarts at Horseflesh’s unruly spawn? Or more fun, for that matter? Is it because there may not be enough kids for everyone to hit at least one apiece? Well, worry not, we can steal some of the neighborhood kids; don’t worry, they’ll make more.
I didn’t know the UnaBoard was located in OP. Frickin’ Johnson County Message Board. Think you can buy your way in to our hearts? Um, I’ll sell my heart for 5 bucks.
Good Lord, a web page dedicated to the guy who plays the stereotyped blond jock asshole? The mind reels.
The quote you gave didn’t sound familiar but the Airplane-ish dialogue and mention of pirates made me think of Yellowbeard, Ice Pirates, and Pirates of Penzance. IMDB character search of “Frederic” quickly showed… Gah! One of the few movies I purposely did not see in the 80’s because it starred ::shudder:: Kristy McNichol. Something about her always made me cringe. Maybe it was her worse-than-porn acting ability, I dunno. BTW, if you liked Ice Pirates, a relatively recent movied called Space Truckers (starring the immortal Dennis Hopper) would be right up your alley.
I apologize for that gravy-bathtub reference in my last post. Though yesterday was my day off a good portion was spent getting things ready for Horsedaughter’s Birthday #3 party. After picking up the Barbie themed cake, blowing up two dozen pink Barbie balloons, stuffing Barbie party bags with Powder Puff Girl keychains, heart and flower sticker sheets, and numerous pink and lavender party favors, then finally packing up all her doll and Barbie related presents and taking them to McDonalds for the impending party, my testosterone level was near zero. My only release was after Horsewife took over the proceedings I was allowed to zone out in a corner with an order of fries. I had a vivid Walter Mitty-ish fantasy of standing up and announcing to the screaming throng of girls that it was time to take out their pink Barbie-shaped daggers and prepare to defend themselves against the Burmese tigers I was about to let in through the side doors. The dream was shattered when Horseson (the only boy party member) came up to me and exclaimed “Look Daddy!” He proudly showed me how he was able to wedge a heart-shaped Barbie ring onto each of his fingers and cover his face and arms with the heart and flower stickers. “That’s nice son,” I said, “Make sure you share those with the others.” Even now I feel that my overall manliness has been reduced by a third and replaced with pink Barbie fluff. I still have the urge to buy a My Pretty Pony and brush its mane for hours on end. I got to end the evening with shooting off tame fireworks with my kids (sparklers, snappers, and snakes). Toddlers + fireworks + Imaginative Former Pyromanic Dad = Great Fun!
That said, I’m fine with Dopeka taking place at Casa del Skip. Let’s see what the others think and if any other KC Doper has a suggestion. Sounds like noontime is okay with everybody and Baker has offered to bring some of her world peace-bringing pie. Auntie em and I can bang out some burgers (I’ve gotten pretty good at making spicy monster burgers myself), my kids have been practicing their dodging skillz (they suck), and I trust your cats have given their permission to have a shindig at their house.
And a parting shot: I challenge your creative processes to complete this joke while creeping along a suspended ceiling. (From the defining teen angst movie of the 80’s) - “A naked blonde walks into a bar with a poodle under one arm and a two-foot salami under the other. The bartender says ‘I guess you won’t be needing a drink’. The naked lady says…”
“Holy Crap, Batman! I shit my tights! Can I borrow your cape for a second?” Absolutely hilarious, Horseflesh, especially the bit about the emasculation of the innocent Horseson. (Yes, I know it’s an affront to all of maleness to laugh at your familial pain, but regardless, I don’t mind admitting that I giggled like a schoolgirl. An East German schoolgirl on steroids, but definitely a schoolgirl.)
The Shrew Twins care not if people show up in throngs. Or thongs. But, just to be safe, bring an offering to appease them. Offerings range anywhere from $100 to $100. Please pick any amount in between. I will be more than happy to supply the hamburgers, hotdogs, buns, fun plastic dinnerware (even sporks if ya’ like that sorta thing), condiments, grill, patio furniture, coloring books and crayons. Just let me know what type of soda fizzes in your carbonated soul; what kind of condiments (other than the usual suspects of catsup, mustard, relish and boiled goat’s milk) you need to be happy and/or any other preferences/dietary limitations. You guys just need to bring your own alcohol (if you drink, we will hide the keys until a three-panel judge-thingy pronounces you sober enough to at least get far enough way from my house so that when you kill those nuns/children/puppies with wide eyes, I won’t be held accountable), desserts (Baker!) and anything else that gets the evolutionary motor of mud bubbling in your veins.
Ice Pirates! That was a funny/bad movie. I will check out Space Truckers, definitely. (I love this here SDMB; with the reccomendations in the book threads in addition to the movie suggestions, I should be set for life.) The quote, of course, is pure Breakfast Club material; but then I think you knew that one was easy. The end of the joke, however, is a bit more difficult to find; however, here ya’ go.
By the way, I know you said to be creative. But, hey, I’m at work–what’s creative about all that?
You know, I have an ex-girlfriend who works for GE Capital and does nearly the exact same thing. In fact, we were having dinner the other night (Bristol-style, right there in the fake Plaza center on 119th street, thank you very much) and the heartless bitch admitted to me that she, whilst in Leeds, had a threesome! A threesome! Why couldn’t she had been that expressive/open-minded/slutty when we were dating all those years ago? You just watch, this is going to be the subject of my very first BBQ rant. So, Anthracite you just go to London and have your threesome fun when you commute. You just do that and then regale us with your tales of salaciousness when you get back; and then ignore the grimace of pain on our faces as you tell us what we could have had all those years ago!
Oh. Heh. I suppose you aren’t my ex-girlfriend. But, alas, she ain’t here, so you’ll have to do as the proxy object for my somewhat creepy wrath.
Ah, c’mon. Don’t let work stand in your way, I never have. Here’s my end to the joke. (Warning! Crudeness to follow!)
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“A naked blonde walks into a bar with a poodle under one arm and a two-foot salami under the other. The bartender says ‘I guess you won’t be needing a drink’. The naked lady [shakes her head and] says ‘The salami’s for me.’ ::Pointing at the poodle:: ‘He just like to watch.’ "
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Nice lookin’ cats. I fear I can only offer them leftover Black Snakes that won’t friggin’ light no matter how much flame I apply and some rogue plastic Barbie rings I found on the stairs. I have 2 felines myself, Pepsi (mine) and Buddy (Horseson). Buddy was originally called Charlie Bananas but Horsedaughter couldn’t pronounce that. I asked Horseson to think of another name and Buddy it was. My daughter now calls him ‘Biscuit’. :rolleyes: Pepsi of course is named after my favorite soft drink which should answer your question of what fizzes my biddle. We also have a dog named Priscilla (which naturally followed as we had a former cat named Elvis) who is a bizarre cocker spaniel-dachshund mix. She looks like a black, long haired football (due to not getting enough exercise) with 3” legs and I now refer to her as ‘Punt’.
On preview I see you’ve posted again ranting to Anthracite about your lack of polygamous sexual encounters. Must be something in the air over in Yurp that affects the libido as that is where I had my first threesome as well.
Finally, Auntie! Now we have something else in common other than a passing interest in your “Girls Unfettered”. If you’ll take a peek at The Razzies you’ll see the distinguished nomination (worst movie) and award (worst original song) bestowed upon The Pirate Movie in 1982. (Sad but true tale: I was on E-Bay the other day and managed to snag an original, still wrapped in plastic, vinyl, double-length soundtrack to the movie. Thank PotatoCouchGuy for both the internet and for people willing to sell to suckers such as myself.)
Damnit, Horseflesh! Did you have to chime in with your admission of a threesome? I mean, not that I need to hijack this damn thread with woes of anguish over my bad luck, but really. A little consideration, huh? How can I face the rest of our male brethern without having had a MFF (sorry, only one SPIKE in my fantasies, and I’m pretty sure it has to be mine) encounter? They’ll laugh and point and call me names; and once they get past the way I look, they’ll start in on the lack of a threesome. Sheesh.
Creative response to that silly blonde into animal husbandry challenge: Fifi would like a hot dog…to go.
Auntie Em, please bring the candy necklaces. Not only do they offer a nibblin’ extra to my day, they go well with whatever outfit I have on.
Ahem. I’d say I have more than a passing interest in The Girls! And would you really say that we have nothing else in common? Have you forgotten so quickly about our mutual love for puppy heads?
I gotta run. Just realized I haven’t bought a present for Mrs. Horseflesh and her birthday’s tomorrow (and I hafta go to work in a few hours!) And I’m so looking forward to shooting off the BIG fireworks tonight at my parents house (outside the city limits). Once again my pyromaniacal urges will be satiated for another year.
I can bring store bought stuff as I am still hopelessly bachelor-like in my cooking skills ('cept grilling burgers). Chips, cookies, chains, thongs, whatever we need.
So, I can just about promise that Ill be the youngest one there (lets put it this way, I cant by smokes for another few months, figure it out from there). So no corrupting me! OK, I think I have to worry just as much about corrupting yous guys Ive already been corrupted to a fairly high degree ;). So I cant bring the booze nor the contemporary tobacco smoking accessories. I can how ever bring some halway decent vegetarian dishes-dont tell me Ill be the only one…
Sorry, 'Em, but I guess I failed to mention that I’m an accomplished passive-aggressive. I suppose I conveniently “forgot” because I was still hurtin’ from Homebrew’s joyous victory. But I’ve matured since my last post, 'Em and I promise it won’t happen again. I’m a changed man, I swear. Between thee and me there will always be the furry heads of man’s best friend. And woman’s most romantic bouquet.
Horseflesh: good luck on a gift for Mrs. Horseflesh! And whilst in the midst of your destructive firework fantasy tonight, please make sure you keep the lil’ chittlins safe from harm. After all, come Dopeka time, it won’t be very sportsmanlike jarting an injured kid. Oh, and if you’re confused by Auntie Em’s puppy comment, check out this thread.
I might borrow your skills whence it comes to actually grilling. My excuse is that I’m color-blind and seeing the meat change colors (unless it starts going black and then, of course, the timer on the grill reads “Too late.”) is an exercise in futility.
Psychomonkey, I usually don’t take a big part in lavish vegetarian dishes but I’m more than willing to try samples from the Evil Green Dark Side. So, please bring whatever you need! Or can have legally at yer age.
Skip, I have a meat thermometer I’d be happy to bring…
I bought the damn thing for my first attempt at grilling beef (a steak dinner for my coworkers last summer). I don’t know shit from steak (but that’s what they wanted), so I bought about a thousand little grilling accoutrements (including the thermometer) and made my boss do the grilling.
He laughed at my little thermometer.
I busted it out again for my second attempt at grilling beef (the miniminiminiminiminiminiminiminidopefest in my back yard), and Ender (the Grill Master) tossed it aside once again. He did retrieve it later, but only for amusement–dipping it into the candlewax, holding it in the candle flame, and so forth.
Somebody, please, deflower my meat thermometer!
Psychomonkey, I’ll be happy to partake of your meatless goodies (along with the MEAT), and will bring a couple myself; are you vegan, or do you eat deviled eggs?
And back to you, Skip . . . Don’t give me that “hurtin’ from Homebrew’s victory” crap. Don’t forget that you dissed me for the Baum-lovin’ Hamadryad, leaving me no choice but to suckle from Homebrew’s font of food and love.
But we’re really happy.
Totally.
We make out all the time.
There is pumpin’ and blowin’ and dead guys’ skulls like you would not believe between us, so don’t let that whole “gay” thing fool you…
No, just vegetarian, I can occasionaly palate deviled eggs. Yeah, Ill see what I can find to bring that all you omnivores without morales can swallow too
Umm, in case I missed it (and I probably did) where will this shindig be held…what part of town?
-PSM
Bring on the thermometer! I shall be happy to deflower! (Back in high school I sent off for a package from the Church of the Subgenius; the minister’s card I received in the mail said I had the official religious power of “deflowering” maidens. I suppose a thermometer is close enough.)
Ahem. Moving on…
Why, you nagging, harping shrew! Will you not be happy until I’m crumpled on the floor, wailing and gnashing and convulsing with unhappiness?! I was rejected!Hamadryad was a rebound effort after you so cruelly threw aside my outpourings of affection. I was a bitter man, tossed to the cold, heartless world from whence I came. If I attempted to find warmth in Hamadryad’s arms, why must you complain? After all, you were already droo–drool–(sob!)–drooling over Homebrew’s cooking! The pain, the pain!
Ahem. I’ve officially moved on.
And I hope you are happy. Even if you aren’t, please keep in mind that I don’t have affairs with taken women. Unless we do it on a day ending in “y”. Then it’s okay.
::hands over a case of Scooby Snacks and a gallon of flaming hot red pepper extract surreptitiously labeled “Cheez-Whiz”::
