Posts like a Turbo
Join Date: Apr 2003
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Lets Play A Word Game... REPOST
I was messing around on my cardomain page the other day and realized we lost this when our site went down a while back. I didn't think I would let it die so here it is.
Lets Play A Word Game...
Here were the rules:
I start with 3 words...and each subsequent poster has to add another 3 words...lets see what kind of story we get...
And what transpired over the next 25 pages, 450 posts.
One day the big old boxer came to my girlfriend'* bathroom door smelling like a Fresh can of your most favorite peanut oil. I wish my left nut didn't smell but I can't seem to figure girl is going blue and green soap bars to mustard and hotdogs that I forgot I ate em by my fridge between the two ol blue cars parked down the street. My girlfriend is one fine piece of meat she likes when slap and tickle are on TV because they make me feel so old and wise. Then the boxer rolls another one for me to and starts singing Party on Garth But that damn microwave keeps beeping Nene Nunu Nana so I threw one of my Drunken midnight party slippers at it and watched as shaved my chest it explodes in a hairy mess all over the state of Minnesota. When I got to my crib my girlfriend called. All the sweeties and fly hunnies ear to ear in my crib. We were thumpin' Go Leafs Go but I said who farted in the tub? It drifted on upward and the stench knocked me flying. So I Fought for beer battered large pork nuts covered in a creamy fish sauce. The sun shined through the crack in the wall on my big shiny new saltlick where she once rode me all the way to the store on my shiny new Purple SLE Bonneville. When I got my underwear on, I looked around and saw my disco monkey icon spanking himself with riding crop. He grabbed his nuts and swung them and screamed out "It hurts so bad” he does while he'* chasing butterflies through a olds infested forum doing 140 mph. When suddenly a mad displaced Texan bursts out of his car brandishing an enormous pickle and pointed it at the girl who then fainted. At the sight smacked poor Jim'* shocker and she gasped in laughter at the sheer thought of that it really had no business talkin that chit and dazed and not able to find his way to the big lonely lonestar state beer blast party for dead displaced Mankato college kids who make avatars due to lack of old-man ingenuity I have gas leaks of fecal odor emanating from wife’* intimate area. Damn the torpedoes! FIRE! Said I Harder said her Brother. Holy Cow! Burning ring o'fire on my chest now I rest cuz my poor head hurt more than my big Dumb ***. The then the neighbor blew the engine. What the hell is that sound? Sounds like a herd of elephants running through my head were thoughts about my big bottom girl friend What a monstrous mess I made bringin' that up in front of her Mother. Geez! Her mom'* hot purple shoes were showing reflection of reverse intimate parts of an obscene sense of direction. I stood up and wiggled my groove thing at the line to get into the best position for a wild ending that’* it. I responded and got the breaks and swung at large angry monkeys with itchy bums filled with hemorrhoids who are throwing stinky, nasty pieces at the wall. Meanwhile, the hippo is doing Jim'* own pet hippo. After all the hippo left, bubba took the time despite the pain to walk outside and trample the cats in his toe valleys. Into Well, I tried to blow up this thread but.... sixteen pages again and finally ends. But wait! Will you just shut you all up into the wall, it really hurt, left a mark and made me extra hypoglycemic and Start to whack Like Michael Jackson or Pee Wee on little boys with demanding force. Beating their little behinds to redness. Ouch! They yelped as they grabbed their swollen cheeks. One tried to lash out profusely but was immediately halted when the hammer and nail went through his bowel injunction point. The monkey ran to his Momma and Momma said "Go get my super salad shooter so I can lay some waste on Jim'* Aurora. Jim yelled "HEY" then attempted to paint it black. Which is a very intelligent decision. Second to Green and fast purple said the oppressor who will lose all respect for the better engines dainty little personality. Chickens won't survive when the cold Black Death of Green Ghetto/Gold actually speeds up it'* own breakdown of subatomic particles into teeny little speeding Projectiles. Monkeys laughed and laughed at the post-apocalyptical at slow Oldsmobiles nuclear meltdown glow. Crickets chirped quietly. Peace, at last. Monkeys yawned widely, and lived happily with chickens beside Will Wren'* yard. Next to his **** and his Boxer who just managed to finish eating his favorite pair of boxers from willwrens floor. He started gagging, but swallowed hard, producing an audible earth shattering kaboom "A new moderator!?!?!" he cried as he farted wet sloppy beer farts. Made from Molson, the Canuck imitation of a true lager in the great state of Comfortably Numb. After too much boozing in the wee early BC morning, MOS awoke to bad mod god so I sacrificed precisely one beer it was Molson Good Canadian beer damn Canadian beer making the gods drink liquor instead. Deep sacrificial failures and Bacardi O amused them so. 9 shots later they forgot why they were lost in the first floor lobby of Alcoholics Anonymous. Seating was ample because only mod gods such as willwren and big monkeys such as willwren and olds drivers were beating off the chickens that smelled of Molson which bake well and crisp nicely. With this sacrifice, we will all be shown mercy unless of course no-one blames Canada for the terrible post-nuclear-winter beer shortage causing mass sobering and white car demolition and destruction SUNDAY, SUNDAY, SUNDAY bright and shiny, blinding the eyes like Quicksilver, "ouch, that smarts. Why does my butt pucker up like granny on acid a pickled pig'* wrinkly and loose? For now it is pulled tight enough to rip the eyelids away on a small plane to Guam. The plane was slightly delayed due to a dwarf reading this post while humping legs of miniature giraffes looking for laughs driving Type R Bonnevilles in snow covered lakes of sulfur and urine. in early December. I have reason to believe that you are all horseshoe crabs. That'* a proven fact that horseshoe crabs drive Bonneville SSEi'* with green/Ghetto gold and get away thong style panties to floss and cut grass to stop mass evacuations of crazy Michael Jackson fans. When suddenly Micheal misspelled his name due to childish American education system and unacceptable tendencies to blow that darn grammar rule. Also, Sol ownz three ****** that that left because his ugly mug was tattooed to look like willwren. Be scared. It'* now 20 pages of total, extreme hardcore crayness and mod goddin' fun. For the whole family to enjoy while surfing the less entertaining pages like READING porno for the articles, changing your name to Sol, and cool like BonneMe just shoot me !!! Cause I'm Canadian good beer aie ?? So pale.. Goes down EZ! With women surrounding because it'* water and they're wasted... Go figure. Processing denial "Blame Canada" great song btw, they never thought that it could take the charts within the Canuck adult contemporary scene. Sounds like me forgot indefinite articles like my underwear all up in my butt crack, causing an unbelievable smell comes from a squished prostate that Jason has, as he squirms like a worm during the midterm "But it'* Finals!" he exclaimed as he won the favor of all for his slow purple pearl bonnie old green Bonnie its naturally aspirated underachieving, low CFM go Supercharged bonnies! The monkey'* blasphemy about stupid supercharging began his denial on its helping to produce horsepower and boosting... egos, well deservedly so. Non-supercharged win though, slowest quarter contests. Which are made-up of wannabe N/A'* that look good, but just aren't fast. as this thread seems to be promoting psuedo-ugly-slow-heavy-did I mention ugly-supercharged cars said by Jason. Too many words by the ***** apotheosis. Imagine what would happen if someone actually understood what the hell I ever post... "Even I don't" said drunk admin. Have dry pants cause they are peed on by weak Canadian beer. "Hey, look out", he'* aiming for all the N/A cars that KICK YOUR *** Because they cant get by to kick the front which is small compared to buildings where ricers dwell in because they are just like N/A'*. only they have Big Fat Smelly fart cans which Slow 'em down. Oppress the N/A, especially purple ones. A cheered the village-idiot, who is MOS, who loves the element of surprise not Michael Jackson. Or Freddie Prince. Although not entirely wishy-washy free himself this one legged post-humping Lounge lizard named Jim Wallace Who OWNZ all.
Game over I win
Unless you have gold star power!
No fair Tim...you gotta start yer own game