Post #8637 celebration thread

Esty · 08-17-2006, 10:58 PM

This has been 5 yrs in the making. Celebrate with me folks. Post porn. Post pics. Post nonsense. Anything. I don't care, do it.

alexthestampede · 08-17-2006, 11:00 PM

dark is the life is the death

Future Boy · 08-17-2006, 11:02 PM

the end is the begining is the end

benjamin619 · 08-17-2006, 11:04 PM

Oblivious · 08-17-2006, 11:47 PM

Surrealist Party

by Joey Goebel

We got so bored living in Carbunckle, Kentucky. Sometimes the sensation of a sneeze was the highlight of our day. Nothing occurred there. Yawning contests and television festivals. Destination: Wal-Mart.

People crapped. Every once in a while, someone had an idea. Robert, who insisted that everyone call him Jesus, had an idea once. He got the idea from the house he had just bought at a ridiculously low price since no one else wanted it. The workers had given up before they finished building the house. I guess they got bored.

The house had a staircase that didn’t go anywhere. It had doors where there were no rooms. Some of the rooms were higher than the others. Some of the rooms were only half painted, and the kitchen had a hole in it. From an architectural and practical standpoint, the house made no sense.

“You are cordially invited to my surrealist party. Come dressed as something other than yourself, preferably something other than this realm of consciousness. Arrive any time between 7:24 and Madisonville. Leave old vocabulary behind.”

There came Nally dressed as Kelly Ripa with her face torn off. There came Justin and Julie wearing sheet music blouses, feeding each other McDonald’s hamburgers. Julie pushed Justin in a wheelchair because he had trouble walking in his mermaid fins.

Jesus installed red light bulbs in each room. He made a big bundle out of the white light bulbs by wrapping them in saran wrap. He hung this bundle of light bulbs on his front porch. He wrote “Possums are contagious” in ketchup on his living room wall. He served cottage cheese, Jell-O pudding pops, sliced white grapes, clams, wine, Dark Eyes vodka, and weird drugs, but he hid the weird drugs all over the house. He placed his guests’ coats in the bathtub. He adhered a sign on the toilet that read “Work in progress. Do not flush.” He didn’t play any complete songs, just a mix tape with bits and pieces of hundreds of highly varied selections. Within a minute, we heard a snippet of “Linus and Lucy,” a sampling of one of Jello Biafra’s spoken word albums, the chorus of the Beatles’ “Carry That Weight,” a verse of the Welcome Back, Kotter theme, and a disturbing slowed-down version of Olivia Newton-John’s “Physical.”

Jesus was dressed as a ballerina. He wound up his long, straight hair in pink curlers, wore leg braces, and draped a bunch of wet spaghetti noodles over his groin. He greeted guests by saying “Body of Christ” or “And they were on a five-inch and they sucked.”
There came Carmen carrying a pool cue with a peach at the end of it. She wore a high school band uniform and cool sunglasses. There came John wearing a sexy salmon-colored robe and fringe-laced roller-blades. He duct-taped his fingers to his palms so that only his middle fingers could function. He kept asking everyone to chew on his middle fingers.

Jill, who was dressed like an amoeba/samurai, became upset when she felt a large centipede crawling on her face. Jesus had gone to the pet store and bought a bunch of exotic insects such as a Goliath beetle, a boll weevil, a hawkmoth, a daddy long-legs, a dragonfly, a walkingstick, a praying mantis, an earwig, a scorpion fly, and some other creepy bugs which I was not able to identify. He let the insects loose shortly before his guests arrived. Once all the insects died, the party was to conclude.

Jesus had invited one beautiful girl that no one knew. All night she sat in a corner by herself. She wore an elegant white dress and her skin was frosty blue. When spoken to, her only reply was “Talk to me about baseball or strong work ethic.”

I went all out. I wore M.C. Hammer pants and loaded the pockets with sandwich meats. I didn’t wear a shirt and wrote “Y2K?” on my chest with lipstick. I tied neckties around both arms and taped a syringe to my chin. I borrowed a monkey skeleton and hung it on my back. I begged people not to have sex with me.

“Who do you want to favor in the electric last year?”

“Regret.”

“You’re correct. But how do you persuade me so?”

“Paris, France.”

“Please don’t make love to me.”

“I’ll pull the lining of my teeth off. An on-going strip of enamel. I’ll just peel it off completely.”

“Amen.”

“Tooshy. You do it to me every time, Grandma.”

“A fellow has to pass the time.”

There came Jr. dressed as himself. He thought theme parties were lame. Jesus told him to get the fuck out if he wasn’t going to dress inappropriately. So Jr. took off his camouflage T-shirt that said “Turd” on it and wore this shirt as pants. He wore his pants on his head and went topless, though he covered his nipples the rest of the evening.

There came Kenny dressed as a tampon with a Hitler mustache. There came Jamie as a Pink Lady from Grease. She had a kaleidoscope for one arm and carried a pug named Winston in the other.

Jesus had us write down a brief summary of a dream we had the previous night. We put the dreams in a coffee pot and then Jason, who was dressed as a plague-ridden hybrid of Robocop and 21 Jumpstreet-era Johnny Depp, drew sketches based on the dreams. Each of Jesus’ guests went home with a picture of his or her dream. I went home with a picture of me driving a car from the backseat right before violently colliding with a beached whale.

There came J.T. with a violin strapped to his chin. He wore only a loin cloth and spoke only with his violin. There came Barnrat dressed as Salvador Dali. Jesus said, “You’ll have to do better than that, Barnrat.” Barnrat replied, “Ah, but wait,” and proceeded to collapse onto all fours. Barnrat spent the remainder of the evening crawling on the dirty floor singing Dolly Parton songs in the voice of a horror-stricken baby girl.

Jesus had just finished teaching us the A-bomb dance when our parents and grade school teachers began to arrive. Jesus had told these adults that it was a surprise party, not a surrealist party. Some of us had found out in advance and told our parents and grade school teachers not to come. Some of us, such as Mutilated Kelly Ripa and Salvador Dali Parton, were shocked to see our moms and dads. Bubonic Robodepp was surprised to see his dad and his dad’s twin brother. The Loin-Clothed Fiddler was embarrassed for his seventh-grade math teacher to see him like that.

The insects were slowly being squashed away. Because there was no furniture or anything else in most of the rooms, splattered insect remains were noticeable on the floors and ceilings. After the parents and teachers had been there for a while, the Goliath beetle, the dragon-fly, the praying mantis, and a few cockroach-like specimens were the only insects that I saw appearing regularly.

“This party is kind of surreal.”

“Surreal you can taste it.”

“That’s a good one.”

“It is a good one when you look at that bad flesh, and it’s dripping.”
We were playing pin the ewe on the futon when Cal Ripken Jr. arrived. He wore his Orioles uniform and brandished a baseball bat, just as he had been told to do. Ripken was in the area because he was starting a minor league baseball team called the Evansville Waves in nearby Evansville, Indiana. Taking advantage of Ripken’s altruistic, good guy persona, Jesus told the all-time record-holder for consecutive games played that this was a party to benefit mentally ill twenty-somethings. Jesus said that the mentally ill twenty-somethings would be in attendance and that they all had one thing in common: They loved Cal Ripken.

Now that everyone had arrived except for Jaleel White who hadn’t replied to Jesus’ invitation, the party reached a deliriously fevered pitch. Everyone entertained everyone. People screamed happily and strangers were innocently and playfully molesting one another. Most of the people mingled with ease. Cal Ripken mostly talked to that beautiful dead girl in the corner, which made me jealous. Eventually, the praying mantis was the only living insect.

That night, laughter, dancing, and liberation almost entirely filled the red air in Jesus’ disaster area of a home. No one in the history of humanity had ever been in these situations. Never in the history of human speech had these conversations occurred. Some of the parents and teachers adapted. Some were visibly uncomfortable.
My least favorite grade school teacher cursed profusely at the praying mantis before crushing it with her purse. Jesus witnessed this and screamed at her, “Why did you do it, Daddy?! Why did you do it, Daddy?!” Why did you do it Daddy?!” Then Jesus made all of us leave.

On the way out, I must have gotten on Cal Ripken’s bad side when I shared with him my thoughts on bunting and teased him about that gorgeous dead girl he had been talking to. Ripken maimed me.

Celes · 08-18-2006, 11:23 AM

http://youdonthavetokiss.com/drawing...awesomeade.jpg

Junebug · 08-18-2006, 04:33 PM

well aren't you special.

yo soy el mejor · 08-18-2006, 04:36 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Celes

http://youdonthavetokiss.com/drawing...awesomeade.jpg

this brand of humor really should have only occured once on the web. it seems like people are just going to keep making web comics that clone the spirit of toothpastefordinner or whoever came up with it first

08-17-2006, 10:58 PM	#1
Esty Netphorian of the Decade Location: Waiting in line for his geranium kiss Posts: 15,478	Post #8637 celebration thread This has been 5 yrs in the making. Celebrate with me folks. Post porn. Post pics. Post nonsense. Anything. I don't care, do it.

08-17-2006, 11:00 PM	#2
alexthestampede Banned Location: I am from the sea! Posts: 4,947	dark is the life is the death

08-17-2006, 11:02 PM	#3
Future Boy The Man of Tomorrow Posts: 26,972	the end is the begining is the end

08-17-2006, 11:04 PM	#4
benjamin619 Apocalyptic Poster Location: West Coast Posts: 4,296	http://modis.marine.usf.edu/images/m...02350.1620.png http://modis.marine.usf.edu/images/m...02350.1620.png http://modis.marine.usf.edu/images/m...02350.1620.png http://modis.marine.usf.edu/images/m...02350.1620.png http://modis.marine.usf.edu/images/m...02350.1620.png http://modis.marine.usf.edu/images/m...02350.1620.png http://modis.marine.usf.edu/images/m...02350.1620.png http://modis.marine.usf.edu/images/m...02350.1620.png http://modis.marine.usf.edu/images/m...02350.1620.png http://modis.marine.usf.edu/images/m...02350.1620.png http://modis.marine.usf.edu/images/m...02350.1620.png http://modis.marine.usf.edu/images/m...02350.1620.png

08-17-2006, 11:47 PM	#5
Oblivious Apocalyptic Poster Location: Village Oblivia Posts: 3,481	Surrealist Party by Joey Goebel We got so bored living in Carbunckle, Kentucky. Sometimes the sensation of a sneeze was the highlight of our day. Nothing occurred there. Yawning contests and television festivals. Destination: Wal-Mart. People crapped. Every once in a while, someone had an idea. Robert, who insisted that everyone call him Jesus, had an idea once. He got the idea from the house he had just bought at a ridiculously low price since no one else wanted it. The workers had given up before they finished building the house. I guess they got bored. The house had a staircase that didn’t go anywhere. It had doors where there were no rooms. Some of the rooms were higher than the others. Some of the rooms were only half painted, and the kitchen had a hole in it. From an architectural and practical standpoint, the house made no sense. “You are cordially invited to my surrealist party. Come dressed as something other than yourself, preferably something other than this realm of consciousness. Arrive any time between 7:24 and Madisonville. Leave old vocabulary behind.” There came Nally dressed as Kelly Ripa with her face torn off. There came Justin and Julie wearing sheet music blouses, feeding each other McDonald’s hamburgers. Julie pushed Justin in a wheelchair because he had trouble walking in his mermaid fins. Jesus installed red light bulbs in each room. He made a big bundle out of the white light bulbs by wrapping them in saran wrap. He hung this bundle of light bulbs on his front porch. He wrote “Possums are contagious” in ketchup on his living room wall. He served cottage cheese, Jell-O pudding pops, sliced white grapes, clams, wine, Dark Eyes vodka, and weird drugs, but he hid the weird drugs all over the house. He placed his guests’ coats in the bathtub. He adhered a sign on the toilet that read “Work in progress. Do not flush.” He didn’t play any complete songs, just a mix tape with bits and pieces of hundreds of highly varied selections. Within a minute, we heard a snippet of “Linus and Lucy,” a sampling of one of Jello Biafra’s spoken word albums, the chorus of the Beatles’ “Carry That Weight,” a verse of the Welcome Back, Kotter theme, and a disturbing slowed-down version of Olivia Newton-John’s “Physical.” Jesus was dressed as a ballerina. He wound up his long, straight hair in pink curlers, wore leg braces, and draped a bunch of wet spaghetti noodles over his groin. He greeted guests by saying “Body of Christ” or “And they were on a five-inch and they sucked.” There came Carmen carrying a pool cue with a peach at the end of it. She wore a high school band uniform and cool sunglasses. There came John wearing a sexy salmon-colored robe and fringe-laced roller-blades. He duct-taped his fingers to his palms so that only his middle fingers could function. He kept asking everyone to chew on his middle fingers. Jill, who was dressed like an amoeba/samurai, became upset when she felt a large centipede crawling on her face. Jesus had gone to the pet store and bought a bunch of exotic insects such as a Goliath beetle, a boll weevil, a hawkmoth, a daddy long-legs, a dragonfly, a walkingstick, a praying mantis, an earwig, a scorpion fly, and some other creepy bugs which I was not able to identify. He let the insects loose shortly before his guests arrived. Once all the insects died, the party was to conclude. Jesus had invited one beautiful girl that no one knew. All night she sat in a corner by herself. She wore an elegant white dress and her skin was frosty blue. When spoken to, her only reply was “Talk to me about baseball or strong work ethic.” I went all out. I wore M.C. Hammer pants and loaded the pockets with sandwich meats. I didn’t wear a shirt and wrote “Y2K?” on my chest with lipstick. I tied neckties around both arms and taped a syringe to my chin. I borrowed a monkey skeleton and hung it on my back. I begged people not to have sex with me. “Who do you want to favor in the electric last year?” “Regret.” “You’re correct. But how do you persuade me so?” “Paris, France.” “Please don’t make love to me.” “I’ll pull the lining of my teeth off. An on-going strip of enamel. I’ll just peel it off completely.” “Amen.” “Tooshy. You do it to me every time, Grandma.” “A fellow has to pass the time.” There came Jr. dressed as himself. He thought theme parties were lame. Jesus told him to get the fuck out if he wasn’t going to dress inappropriately. So Jr. took off his camouflage T-shirt that said “Turd” on it and wore this shirt as pants. He wore his pants on his head and went topless, though he covered his nipples the rest of the evening. There came Kenny dressed as a tampon with a Hitler mustache. There came Jamie as a Pink Lady from Grease. She had a kaleidoscope for one arm and carried a pug named Winston in the other. Jesus had us write down a brief summary of a dream we had the previous night. We put the dreams in a coffee pot and then Jason, who was dressed as a plague-ridden hybrid of Robocop and 21 Jumpstreet-era Johnny Depp, drew sketches based on the dreams. Each of Jesus’ guests went home with a picture of his or her dream. I went home with a picture of me driving a car from the backseat right before violently colliding with a beached whale. There came J.T. with a violin strapped to his chin. He wore only a loin cloth and spoke only with his violin. There came Barnrat dressed as Salvador Dali. Jesus said, “You’ll have to do better than that, Barnrat.” Barnrat replied, “Ah, but wait,” and proceeded to collapse onto all fours. Barnrat spent the remainder of the evening crawling on the dirty floor singing Dolly Parton songs in the voice of a horror-stricken baby girl. Jesus had just finished teaching us the A-bomb dance when our parents and grade school teachers began to arrive. Jesus had told these adults that it was a surprise party, not a surrealist party. Some of us had found out in advance and told our parents and grade school teachers not to come. Some of us, such as Mutilated Kelly Ripa and Salvador Dali Parton, were shocked to see our moms and dads. Bubonic Robodepp was surprised to see his dad and his dad’s twin brother. The Loin-Clothed Fiddler was embarrassed for his seventh-grade math teacher to see him like that. The insects were slowly being squashed away. Because there was no furniture or anything else in most of the rooms, splattered insect remains were noticeable on the floors and ceilings. After the parents and teachers had been there for a while, the Goliath beetle, the dragon-fly, the praying mantis, and a few cockroach-like specimens were the only insects that I saw appearing regularly. “This party is kind of surreal.” “Surreal you can taste it.” “That’s a good one.” “It is a good one when you look at that bad flesh, and it’s dripping.” We were playing pin the ewe on the futon when Cal Ripken Jr. arrived. He wore his Orioles uniform and brandished a baseball bat, just as he had been told to do. Ripken was in the area because he was starting a minor league baseball team called the Evansville Waves in nearby Evansville, Indiana. Taking advantage of Ripken’s altruistic, good guy persona, Jesus told the all-time record-holder for consecutive games played that this was a party to benefit mentally ill twenty-somethings. Jesus said that the mentally ill twenty-somethings would be in attendance and that they all had one thing in common: They loved Cal Ripken. Now that everyone had arrived except for Jaleel White who hadn’t replied to Jesus’ invitation, the party reached a deliriously fevered pitch. Everyone entertained everyone. People screamed happily and strangers were innocently and playfully molesting one another. Most of the people mingled with ease. Cal Ripken mostly talked to that beautiful dead girl in the corner, which made me jealous. Eventually, the praying mantis was the only living insect. That night, laughter, dancing, and liberation almost entirely filled the red air in Jesus’ disaster area of a home. No one in the history of humanity had ever been in these situations. Never in the history of human speech had these conversations occurred. Some of the parents and teachers adapted. Some were visibly uncomfortable. My least favorite grade school teacher cursed profusely at the praying mantis before crushing it with her purse. Jesus witnessed this and screamed at her, “Why did you do it, Daddy?! Why did you do it, Daddy?!” Why did you do it Daddy?!” Then Jesus made all of us leave. On the way out, I must have gotten on Cal Ripken’s bad side when I shared with him my thoughts on bunting and teased him about that gorgeous dead girl he had been talking to. Ripken maimed me.

08-18-2006, 11:23 AM	#6
Celes Ownz Location: myar Posts: 536	http://youdonthavetokiss.com/drawing...awesomeade.jpg

08-18-2006, 04:33 PM	#7
Junebug Minion of Satan Posts: 7,072	well aren't you special.