The 10pm thread (archived)

[crazycoffey]

The big anti-hijack thread.....
Talk about anything, but if this works than we don't have to keep looking around all the threads to see who is still on tonight, and every night, or even every day! Talk about the chiefs, talk about tomorrow, talk about football, politics or even how to do flooring and the applicable budget. What you're drinking, how hard it is to sleep, etc. Every thing is acceptable in this thread.....

http://www.timeanddate.com/worldcloc...om.html?sort=2 see for yourself, it is ten o'clock somewhere.

[Dunit35]

Originally Posted by joey

Spam is fake ham? I guess that explains the rhyming pattern.

HAM! IN A CAN! THAT'S FAKE!

snappy advertising ideas.

Hoping for sarcasim on your post? What the F does spam taste like anyways?

[KurtCobain]

Originally Posted by Dunit35

Hoping for sarcasim on your post? What the F does spam taste like anyways?

I really didn't know it was fake ham. It tastes like rotten pussy.

[Dunit35]

Originally Posted by joey

I really didn't know it was fake ham. It tastes like rotten pussy.

Never had rotten pussy before, so guess I don't know that spam tastes like.

[Direckshun]

I've had rotten pussy and it tastes like stale ham.

[KurtCobain]

Originally Posted by Dunit35

Never had rotten pussy before, so guess I don't know that spam tastes like.

If you had a dead cat under your bed smelling harsh for thirty days, you'd take a taste too.

[KurtCobain]

Originally Posted by Direckshun

I've had rotten pussy and it tastes like stale ham.

[Dunit35]

Originally Posted by joey

If you had a dead cat under your bed smelling harsh for thirty days, you'd take a taste too.

Shit, nice man.

[luv]

Originally Posted by Direckshun

I've had rotten pussy and it tastes like stale ham.

No words come to mind as to how to reply to that.

[Direckshun]

Originally Posted by luv

No words come to mind as to how to reply to that.

Ever had spam?

[KurtCobain]

Originally Posted by Direckshun

Ever had spam?

I swear I found it under my bed.

[luv]

Originally Posted by Direckshun

Ever had spam?

I'm not sure I should answer that without an attorney, or at least a therapist, present.

[KurtCobain]

Originally Posted by luv

I'm not sure I should answer that without an attorney, or at least a therapist, present.

I have a degree in psychology. Well, I have a piece of paper that says I do.

[Dunit35]

I have added 8 posts to my count on this thread. I got to be around 15 or so now...hellz yeah.

[KurtCobain]

You shoulda just stayed at 1 post. That's a pretty list.

[Discuss Thrower]

I'm going to dedicate this to all those who can't sleep. And to the moderators, please don't punish me!

Coughing loudly, Leroy sat up. He'd been sick for the better part of the last week. One, innocent, harmless, drag off a Cuban Cigar led to a sore throat, which progressed to a headache and green gooze in his sinuses. Leroy got medicine for the occasional explosion of mucous through his nasal cavity, which gave way to ass-whooping coughs that only appeared when he laid his head upon a rather flat pillow.

Leroy flipped over the alarm clock on his nightstand to check the time. He flipped the alarm clock to prevent its green glow from keeping him awake. Duct taped covered any other omnipresent light source in his room, on his TV for example, and he aluminum foiled his window. He did a nice job of it, but the uptight neighbors in their mono-gated community didn't feel the same way.

The alarm clock read -12:00- and Leroy was relieved. He might be able to salvage a few hours of precious sleep from the wreck his respiratory system. He cursed himself when the clock flashed -12:00- because it meant that the power went off and Leroy coughed his way through hearing it. He'd have to check the shower radio in his bathroom.

Leroy slouched his way to the bathroom and flipped on the light switch. No light. He flipped it off, then back on again. The three faux-Venetian style fixtures overbearingly shined brightly and Leroy winced as his pupils shrank rapidly. He noticed a soft crackling noise from the switch, and watched as a tiny tinsel of smoke wafted away. He was living in a death trap.

Leroy scanned over his reflection in the mirror. He slapped his beer-gut, which was a misnomer because he never drank beer in any sizable quantity. He flexed his pectorals, which was an outright lie because he didn't have pectorals to flex.

His audacious yet naive goatee had a bald spot in it, or at least that's what Leroy thought. Leroy wished he had a jawline and decided to shave off his six-hour stubble that covered the places where his goatee was not. He seized the opportunity to multi task as shaved whilst taking a piss. After flushing the toilet, slapping down the lid, and replacing the shaver did Leroy leave the bathroom.

Leroy crept down the open stairway out of habit and not out of consideration. He was the only human occupant of the house at the time. His stealth flawed regardless, as every step he would take a joint would pop or crack loudly. Leroy's unathletic ankles being the most villainous culprit in betraying his silence.

He noticed that his dog was gnawing away at her leg. She was afflicted by an allergy to something. Leroy fed her Benadryl tablets by sticking them in a slock of peanut-butter on a butter knife. He scoffed at her to get her to stop, then lovingly patted her golden coat as he walked on.

In the kitchen, Leroy looked through he refrigerator. He decided to pass on the 48oz can of energy drink that one had described as “moose piss”. Looking at the microwave he noticed that it too was flashing -12:00-. Leroy dumbfoundedly remembered that he forgot to check the time when he was in the bathroom. He darted back up the stairs, turning off lights as he went. He began to think about how pleasant a dream would be, as he'd gone the previous nights of tossing and turning without a remarkable dream. Leroy then remembered that he forgot to shut the refrigerator door.

Leroy was back again in front of the 'fridge. He decided to not leave empty handed this time. He singlehandedly grabbed a hold of a gallon of chocolate milk and began to chug away. Had it not been for his much maligned left hand, the milk would've sloshed all over the kitchen floor and his cat would've poisoned herself by lapping up the sugary-brown nectar of goodness.

Finishing his drink and taking care to shut the door, Leroy went back upstairs. Leroy turned on his TV as the mind melting blue glow of modern technology dimly flooded his room. Hoping for some chuckle worthy entertainment at the very least he was disappointed when he was greeted with the cliched nuances of an infomercial.

-- “Okay, we have Jim here who is a certified bed-jumper, well at least for the day Ha-Ha-Ha,” --

“Oh Dear Lord,” Leroy thought.

-- “And we have our card house set up on the bed here... Okay, now Jim, give us a good jump here ...” -- Leroy thought he could see the glint of glue connecting the joints on the house of cards.

Leroy paid attention to the images on the screen. Jim was an ignorantly stereotyped American: blue-jeans and a tattered looking unbuttoned plaid shirt, stocky build, and in middle age. This guy jumping up and down on a mattress that had what Leroy thought to be the consistency and color of a packing crate.

Of course, the house of cards didn't fall on the demonstration of the mattress being advertised, but did so faster than the panties of a high school cheerleader on prom night as demonstrated on the regular mattress in the infomercial.

-- “Our mattress was designed using the technology pioneered by the Apollo Moon missions, and battle tested on the streets of Baghdad!” --

Leroy became incensed that a damned mattress company was war profiteering. The nerve of them! Leroy's brain began to verbalize a letter to what ever member of Congress was the least corrupt. Leroy paused and considered that a letter to the FCC might be a better option, as they actually listened to groundless and illogical complaints. He grew angrier when he realized that the mattress company was using an insomniac's poor plight as an inroad to higher sales. Leroy isn't an insomniac, but still knew when people are being taken advantage of! It was cruel to advertise a product that promises a good night's sleep to someone who can't achieve it. Imagine! Imagine the outrage if a contractor gave a homeless man pages of housing ads for the man to use as a blanket as he slept on the cold city streets! Or if McDonald's plopped a billboard of a huge Big Mac in the middle of a throng of starving, famine stricken Africans? Leroy clinched his fists and squinted in anger.

The sun light made his room glow an intense yellow and Leroy caught the noise of the builders thumping away at the new house next door. Leroy cursed in anger as he realized the he slept another unsatisfying and dreamless night.