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Well, thanks for the welcome, though I should point out that wasn't my first post. You & I just haven't crossed paths before. Curiously enough, though, the fact of you has led to certain accusations of me, but I won't hold it against you.

But uh, isn't "camouflage" from camoufler? Or am I not going back far enough?

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Always clean, but I might fight back anyway.

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Will Wilde and Parker be attending?

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You know me so well.

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We're the never ending flying party from Life, the Universe & Everything? Sweet.

(I have no idea if hyphens are necessary, and frankly, I don't care...there goes my foursome...)

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Don't count on Wilde and Parker any time soon. But soon enough we should get a Guernica post.

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Dammit, that's not cocktail-party-appropriate at all.

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Nor will it be when wonk puts his hand on the small of your back and then slowly but deliberately lets it drop so that he's firmly clutching a handful of your clean ass, but that's the kind of party it is.

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Wow. Well, who's pouring?

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SS wanted me to let you know he had to step into the bathroom for a minute to rub one out to the image of Wonk grabbing your freshly-scrubbed ass. He'll be right back.

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wow. You guys are really close. I wish i had friends that would confide in me like that.

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Outstanding. Thanks for the message. Think I have time for a cigarette (an occasional cocktail-party vice)?

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How is lo-berry these days, by the way?

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You're so whiffalicious that I'm wondering if you're a Sebby sock.

TM

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I didn't think he was a sock, but I guess he was. never came back.

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I would have preferred to respond to your earlier, even more pathetic and needy version of this post, but it was snatched away all untimely. For shame.

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My mother taught me not to boast, even as she confided that my penis is much larger than say Penske's, or Thurgreed's.

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I'd rather be a smaller-penised motherfucker than a larger-penised ownmotherfucker. Gross.

Thankfully, I'm a larger-penised SS'ssisterfucker.

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Whatever you do, do not drink the red punch in the trashcan.

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I second this nugget of wisdom from the most esteemed elder, and can only add this little caveat:

If you give a shit.

And if you indeed do give a shit about your performance on a chat board, I welcome you to stop wavering right now... Walk straight over to that WalMart, buy the .44 and place a softball sized hole in your head.

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Lesson learned.

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Uh, I don't have a sister. Are you fucking my brother?

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Oh no!

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It's funny when you joke about offing yourself, because we know you just don't give a fuck. But to suggest that PLF should give up the only thing in his barren, spent and joyless life that still gives him a fleeting memory of pleasure and shoot himself in the head is just irresponsible and dangerous.

Kill Reality
 

Has anyone watched this? If not, tune into a replay of the finale, which has the lowest moment in reality tv to date. Good stuff.

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You should see my appellate briefs. If I have sufficient time to edit, I've been able to force judges to try 8 or 9 times to figure out what I'm arguing.

The drafting sucked, but I thought I was clear and that's all that matters. Camo is one type of battle gear, and a soldier likely is told which type of battle gear to wear given the circumstances. If he wants to pretty-up, he can wear dress uniform, but that's not happening in the field. If he's getting really, PLF-style fancy, he can wear mess dress, also not for the field. And, he means he/she here.

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Looks like Penske and Hank are going to have to share the trunk space soon.

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Yes, but it would make for an interesting party.

Kill Reality
 

Objectively speaking, of course. Determinations of what exactly is "the lowest moment" in reality tv are different for different people.

TM

I Had A Dream
 

Ok, last night after walking my dog and listening to my iPod on "shuffle songs", I fell asleep and had a dream. The soundtrack to my dream was a song I hadn't heard in ages -- 21 Gun Salute by Soulcracker (VH1's Bands on the Run). -- It starts with the line "Relive the good times/cling to the past/with a 21 gun salute/and a flag flown at half mast/I can't take away the memory of the one that you loved last/But I can turn this picture into ash"

Anyways, during the dream, I was competing in a bass fishing tournament. But I didn't have a good rod and reel. All I had was a hose with a fish hook on the end. I was way behind and about to give up, when suddenly I felt that I had the bass-fishing equivalent of the golden snitch on my line. I pulled it up, and it was the size and appearance of my beloved dachsund/pappillon. I wrestled with it, and it bit me, and I tried to choke it, but then decided that I was being stupid, and let it go.

The next morning, I resumed listening to my shuffle mix while walking my dog, and the second song that came up (I did not reshuffle) was 21 Gun Salute by Soulcracker. Note that I have over 7000 songs on my iPod.

So Joseph, what do you make of this dream?

I Had A Dream
 

I'm sorry about your penis.

Kill Reality
 

I can state with certainty that I have already seen the lowest moment in reality TV. In fact I may have seen it more than once.

Kill Reality
 

True. I wasn't trying to be objective. Here's a great line from the show though (whited out to protect those who wish not to be spoiled - literally or figuratively):

Steven Hill told her, “Trish, you do realize you’re that no longer the bitch from The Bachelor. You’re the girl who was shit on.”

Realityblurred apparently has a good recap.

I Had A Dream
 

Nuts...

But you knew that.

Kill Reality
 

Was it str8 on Pyramid or Hank on Cops?

Sad Monkey
 

It's a little late for you to start getting all schoolmarm and trying to raise the tone around here. Why don't you try posting something substantive and worthwhile for a change, like nononononono?

Sad Monkey
 

I'm just posting what the people want, which is imagery of you and PLF locked in a confined space where your unbridled anger can mutate to understanding, respect and then love.

I'm a helper monkey.

Sad Monkey
 

Hey!

Sad Monkey
 

Mr. Bill (I can't write that fuckin' name) did post something useful today. I had no idea PLF was considered an expert in the derivation of French and English words. Does that go along with the dry wit, or does it necessarily accompany the aging hipster bitterness?

Or is Mr. Bill confusing PLF with Ask Jeeves, or some sort of HAL or Oracle of the boards?

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Do you mean the Date Rape Juice?