I won’t go into all the harrowing details of my capture by the Phil Collins-led robot minions of the planet Susudio, but I do heartily welcome anyone who wants to help bunk or re-bunk any of the offerings in this thread.
Based on my recent excursion into the wilds of Minnesota, those are all things enjoyed by dead raccoons. Is it possible that you are channeling the spirit of a dead dead raccoon?
A dead dead raccoon? Deader than your average dead raccoon? How do you get dead dead - back the car up and run over it again?
Sorry, got off track there - yes, it is indeed possible.
Dogs have been at war with Linoleum for centuries. They are both physical manifestations of canonical spirits of the universe. As a puppy, did your dog pee on the floor? Huh?
Few people mind a little alone time with a brew. So my question is, what is wrong with you? Is the can empty?
Empty as a cat fart. I think I have a new saying.
Sometimes when I’m in bed, the lower fitted sheet comes loose from the edges of the bed and bunches up in the middle of the bed. Why? It can’t be my restless turning in bed, can it? I mean, last night I dreamt I was in the Girl Genius world, but that’s because I’d just been reading the book and it was next to my pillow.
It’s probably the bed fairies, playing little tricks on you. They put crumbs in my bed, too (I’m sure it’s not the crackers I eat in bed - that can’t be it).
How is my old mate Crackers?
Why do I always run out of ketchup just before I run out of french fries? I really like ketchup and I often squirt a puddle of it on my plate to dip burgers and hot dogs, so that there’s just the right amount on every bite. But no matter what I dip, I always have to add more ketchup to the plate for the last bite. And then there’s ketchup on the plate with nothing to dip… so I need more fries. And then I run out of ketchup again, but there’s still that last french fry. AAAAACK! I can’t quit!
I just knew something terrible had happened, I could feel it in the air. I’m sorry you felt the cold Invisible Touch of the robot minions but at least you were able to escape Against All Odds.
What we are looking at here is simply the Law of Selective Reporting.
>Maybe you ordered lasagna at a restaurant and they brought you manicotti
>by mistake, and you actually kind of wished you had ordered the manicotti.
You DON’T remember all the times the waitress just brought you exactly what you ordered, or when she brought you a cheeseburger and you sent it back saying WTF?
In an infinite universe, all manner of strange things happen. It’s just we only notice (and write reports on the internet about) the events that match patterns we think we have already identified.
Law of Selective Reporting? That sounds like total bunk to me!
This is a pretty low-flying aircraft. Did it really go over your head? How tall are you?
Thanks for the interesting thread cricetus. Now I know I’m not the only one who’s full of bunk, well ok they might use a slightly different last word when referring to me.
Now, I will attempt to bunk the true nature of “cricetus” whose name is actually an acronym for “cryogenically received individual choosing extraordinary training (in) unknown secrets”.
At sometime in the distant future he was unfrozen, but like some accounts of the fabled Merlin CRICETUS moves backwards through time. He has been on the watch list of One World Government trackers for a long time, but we have yet to establish who gave him his training but we know much about the contents of his secret training. Our current best researcher has delved deep in the mind and mystery of CRICETUS and put out a website so that others can share the great knowledge of the one known as CRICETUS: www.timecube.com/.
You’ve never heard of the Hot Dog Bun Conundrum? By having 10 hot dogs in a package and 8 buns in a bag, you are forced to continually buy dogs or buns to prevent any from being wasted. Iirc, it was scientifically proven as fact back in 800 AD by Pythagoras and Jesus, before the invention of hot dogs. Back then, it was “Ye Olde Conundrume of Condoms to Whore Holes.” Then Murphy Brown stole it and made Murphy’s laws.
I see you also fworship the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
Well met, Mongo, and 7, 5, 2, 13, 27.
27? 27?!? You, sir, are no gentleman.
It’s only painful the first time, and not everybody enjoys it, but that’s how I roll.
Oo look! A new Dr. McNinja comic!