the longest thread, thread - Occasionally NSFW

[happysadfun]

well you both are heterosexual.

And you are not?

[sportsdd2]

critizism atleast we arent beeting ppl up like in the old days

[dcowboys055]

ill make it three strait posts by a wisconsinite

[sportsdd2]

yay

[rama kandra]

WTF??

[Sir. Benjamin]

I don't get the point of this thread...can anyone explain to me what the point is?

[gavin_sidhu]

well you both are heterosexual.

And you are not?

No way. heterosexual is so 1940's, homosexual is the in thing nowadays. But i dont think you should try, with a cock like that guys will be avoiding you as if your the plague.

[MeDeFe]

It's that big?

[paynetrain9]

hi

[ttocs]

hi

hihi

[qeee1]

MMM... incestous lesbianism... the best kind of lesbianism.

[Sir. Benjamin]

making this thread a little longer i guess...

[hawkeye]

I don't get the point of this thread...can anyone explain to me what the point is?

Something I'm been a part of since about page 200... ehhhhhh... a thread about nothing, the Signfield thread if you will.

[ttocs]

I don't get the point of this thread...can anyone explain to me what the point is?

The purpose of this thread is to make it as long as possible so the record will never be broken, and it is almost like a flame wars for some people, and something to post weird stuff on.

[dcowboys055]

and dont read the first 20 pages

[gavin_sidhu]

It's that big?

check it out urself, its in his avie.

[Master Bush]

the Signfield thread if you will.

I wont, because it's spelled Seinfeld.

[Master Bush]

OFFICE SPACE

I was watching this movie the other night. It was a World War Two movie and there were Nazis in the movie. And I notice that the Nazis in those movies always had two separate “Heil's.” They had the regular “Heil” that they would do, and then, when they were around the offices, they had this casual “Heil,” where they would just kind of show their palm. Remember that? They come in the office, “Yeah, Heil, how are you? Is the kid back with the coffee yet? Are you finished with the copier? Yeah, world domination, Aryan race, whose donuts are those? Yeah, Heil, nice to see you. Mind if I take the last jelly?”

FIRST AID

Unemployment, that’s a tough thing.

Even if you get a job, after you’ve been unemployed, they take unemployment out of your check every week and show it to you in that little box. How good can it be for your confidence that every paycheck has the word “unemployment” on it? You can’t get it out of your mind. You just got the job, they’re already getting ready for you to be laid off.

I have a friend who’s unemployed—he’s collecting unemployment insurance. This guy has never worked so hard in his life as he has to keep this thing going. He’s down there every week, waiting on the lines and getting interviewed and making up all theses lies about looking for jobs.

If they had any idea of the effort and energy that he is expending to avoid work, I’m sure they’d give him a raise.

I’ve never seen someone to such a tremendous job, not working.

DINING OUT

Went out to dinner the other night, check came at the end of the meal as it always does. Never liked the check at the end of the meal system. Because money’s a very different thing before and after you eat.

Before you eat, money has very little value. When you’re hungry, you sit down in a restaurant, you’re like the ruler of an empire. You don’t care about the cost. You want maximum food in minimum time.

“More drinks, appetizers, quickly, quickly. Fried things in the shape of a stick or a ball. It will be the greatest meal of our lives.”

Then, after the meal, once you’re full, you can’t remember ever being hungry in your life. You see people walking into the restaurant, you can’t believe it. “Why are all these people coming in here now? I’m so full. How could they eat?” You’ve got your pants undone, napkins destroyed, cigarette butt in the mashed potatoes. You never want to see food again as long as you live. That’s when the check comes. This is why people are always mystified by the check.

“What is this? How could this be?” They start passing it around the table.

“Does this look right to you? We’re not hungry now, why are we ordering all this food?”

Hunger will make people do amazing things. I mean, the proof of that is cannibalism. What do they say? You know, they’re eating . . . “This is good. Who is this? I like this person.” I would think the hardest thing about being a cannibal is trying to get some really solid straight sleep through the night sleep. You’d think with any little noise they’d go “What is it? . . . Who’s that? . . . Who’s there? . . . Is somebody there? . . . What do you want? . . . You look hungry. Are you hungry? . . . Get out of here.”

WATCHING OUT

And how about the professional wrestling referee? There’s a great job. You’re a referee in a sport with no rules of any kind. How do you screw that up?

The referee is kind of like Larry of the Three Stooges. You don’t really need him, but it just wouldn’t be the same without him. They must get these guys from the same place the Harlem Globetrotters get their refs. There must be this whole school where they teach you to just kind of run around and not notice anything.

They sit you down, show you a film of the rubout scene from St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, and if you don’t see anything illegal going on, you’re hired.

The opposite side of this is the Olympic platform diving, where the judging is so critical, it’s too depressing to even watch.

If the diver makes too big a splash going in the water, all the judges are like, “What the hell was that? That was the dive? Well that’s no good at all. Too much splashing. I didn’t like the splashing. A couple of drops almost got on me. He’s just going to have to learn to slow down before he hits that water.

Don’t these divers ever get frustrated and want to just do a cannonball? Wouldn’t that be great to just see a wall of water going over the judges’ table?

They’d be wiping their glasses, “I didn’t see the entry. What did you put down?”

The movies will always be one of my top all-time out activities. But to be honest, the peak moment for me is always being on the way to the movies. I love being on the way to the movies.

We’re in the car, trying to get there in time. Maybe you’ll have good seats. Maybe it’ll be a good movie. Maybe everything’ll be good. You don’t know, and when you’re on the way it’s still possible. I love that I’m definitely doing something and I haven’t done it yet. That’s a pure life moment. After you get a job and before you have to do it. Nothing beats that. It’s the spaces between life that I like the most.

There definitely seems to be an age gap in the hiring policy at most movie theaters.

They never hire anyone between the ages of 15 and 80. So the girl that sells the tickets, she’s 10. Then there’s the guy that rips it, he’s 102. So what happened in the middle there? They couldn’t find anybody? It’s like they want to show you how life comes full circle. When you’re 15, you’re selling the tickets, then you leave. You go out, you have a family, kids, marriage, career, grandchildren. Eighty years later you’re back in the same theater, three feet away, ripping tickets.

Eighty years to move three feet.

My most embarrassing movie moment is how often I get confused by the plot.

I hate to have to admit it, but I’m one of those people you always see in the parking lot after the movie talking with his friends going, “Oh, you mean that was the same guy from the beginning? Ohhh.” Nobody will explain anything to you while the movie’s going on.

You can’t find out.

I’m always whispering to the person next to me. “Why did they kill that guy? I don’t understand. I thought he was with them. Wasn’t he with them? Why would they kill him if he was with them? Oh, he wasn’t really with them. Oh . . . It’s a good thing they killed him.”

There’s a lot of shushing going on in movie theaters. People are always shushing. “Shhh, shh, shh, shhh.” It doesn’t work because nobody knows where a shush is coming from. They just hear, “shh.” “Was that a shush? I think somebody shushed me. I think I just got shushed, but I don’t know where it came from.”

Some people you can’t shush in a movie theater. They’re talking and talking, everyone around them is shushing them, and they won’t shush. No one can shush them. They’re the “unshushables.”

The one movie ad I don’t get is this one: “If you see only one movie this year . . .” If you see only one movie this year, why go at all? You’re not going to enjoy it. There’s too much pressure. You’re sitting there, “All right, this is it for 51 more weekends, this better be good.”

OUT ON THE STREET

If we really stuck with the classic Greek priorities, a sound mind in a sound body, the only two places we’d ever go is to a library or a gym. What’s amazing to me about the library is that here’s a place where you can go in, you take out any book you want, they just give it to you and say, “Please just bring it back when you’re done.” It reminds me of this pathetic friend everybody had when they were a little kid that would let you borrow any of his stuff if you would just be his friend.

That’s what the library is, it’s a government-funded pathetic friend. That’s why everybody kind of bullies the library, “Maybe I’ll bring it back on time, maybe I’ll bring it back late. What are you gonna do, charge me a nickel? Oooh, I’m so scared.”

CYCLE ONE

Ialways did well on the essay questions. Just put everything you know on there, maybe you’ll hit it. And then you’d get the paper back from the teacher, and she’s just written one word across the entire page, “vague.” I thought “vague” was kind of a vague thing to say. I’d write underneath it, “unclear,” send it back. She’d return it to me, “ambiguous.” I’d send it back to her, “cloudy.” We’re still corresponding to this day. Hazy, muddy . . .

Do you ever sneak down to better seats at the game, and get caught by the usher? When you’re a kid, it doesn’t matter because you’re always getting chased from everyplace anyway. But when you’re an adult, it’s really embarrassing to get caught. You have to pretend like there’s some confusion. So you put on this whole act, you’re looking at the tickets, “I don’t understand how this could’ve happened. Let me see . . . Oh I see the problem. These are very good seats, I have very bad seats. That’s the misunderstanding.”

HOMESTRETCH

To me, if life boils down to one significant thing it’s movement. To live is to keep moving. Unfortunately, this means that for the rest of our lives we’re going to be looking for boxes.

When you’re moving, your whole world is boxes. That’s all you think about. “Boxes, where are there boxes?” You just wander down the street going in and out of stores, “Are there boxes here? Have you seen any boxes?” It’s all you think about. You can’t even talk to people, you can’t concentrate. “Will you shut up? I’m looking for boxes!”

After a while, you become like a bloodhound on the scent. You walk into a store, “There’s boxes here. Don’t tell me you don’t have boxes, dammit, I can smell ‘em!” I become obsessed. “I love the smell of cardboard boxes in the morning.” You could be at a funeral, everyone’s mourning, crying around you, you’re looking at the casket. “That’s a nice box. Does anybody know where that guy got that box? When he’s done with it, you think I could get that? It’s got some nice handles on it. My stereo would fit right in there.”

I mean that’s what death is, really, it’s the last big move of your life. The hearse is like the van, the pallbearers are your close friends, the only ones you could really ask to help you with a big move like that. And the casket is that great, perfect box you’ve been looking for your whole life. The only problem is once you find it, you’re in it.

Dating is pressure and tension. What is a date really, but a job interview that lasts all night? The only difference between a date and a job is that in not many job interviews is there a chance you'll wind up naked at the end of it.
"Well Bill, the boss thinks you're the man for the position. Why don't you strip down and meet some of the people you'll be working with?"

One of the most popular procedures today is the nose job. The technical term for the nose job is rhinoplasty. Rhino? I mean, do we really need to insult the person at this particular moment of their life? They know they have a big nose, that's why they're coming in. Do they really need the abuse of being compared to a rhinoceros on top of everything else?
When someone goes in for a hair transplant, they don't say, "We're going to perform a cueball-ectomy on you, Mr. Johnson. We're going to attempt to remove the skin-headia of your chrome-domus...these are the technical terms, of course."

Can someone please tell me what is the deal with B.O.? Everything in nature has a function, a purpose, except B.O.
Doesn't make anysense. Do something good---hard work, exercise---smell very bad. That is the way the human being is designed. You move, you stink.
Why don't our bodies help us? Why can't sweat smell good? Be a different world, wouldn't it? Instead of putting your laundry in the hamper, you'd put it in a vase. Go down to the drugstore, pick up some odorant and perspirant. You'd have a dirt sweatsock hanging from the rearview mirror of your car.
And then on a really special night, maybe a little underwear coming out of your breast pocket, just to show her that she's important.

Let's get one thing straight about dry cleaning right now. It doesn't exist. There's no such thing as dry cleaning. There's no way of cleaning with dry. Dry itself is nothing. You can't use it. You can't do anything with it. It's not there. Dry is nothing. Are you lietening to me? And we walk into these places with the big signs out front, "Dry Cleaning," and somehow never question how they were able to put this absurd concept over on us.
If I gave you a filthy shirt and said, "I want this immaculate. And no liquids!" what are you going to do? Shake it? Tap it? Blow on it? Give me a break. You almost can't get something dirty with dry, let alone cleaning it.

I once had a leather jacket that got ruined in the rain. Now why does moisture ruin leather? Aren't cows outside a lot of the time?
When it's raining, do cows go up to the farmhouse, "Let us in! We're all wearing leather! Open the door! We're going to ruin the whole outfit here!"
"Is it suede?"
"I am suede! The whole thing is suede! I can't have this cleaned...It's all I got!"

I am so tired of having to come up with another little outfit for myself everyday. In fact, I will say this---and I think many people agree with me---I think eventually fashion won't even exist. I think someday we'll all wear the same thing. Because anytime I see a movie or a TV show where there are people from the future or another planet, they're all wearing the same outfit. Somehow they all decided, "All right, that's enough. From now on, this is goign to be our outfit. One-piece silver jump suit, with a V-stripe on the chest, and boots. That's it. We're going to start visiting other planets and we want to look like a team."

Have you ever called someone up and you're disappointed when they answer the phone? You wanted the machine. And you're always kind of thrown off. You go, "Oh, I uh, I, didn't know you were there, I just wanted to leave a message saying, 'Sorry I missed you'."
So because of the phone machine, what you can have is two people that don't really ever want to talk, and the phone machine is like this relationship respirator keeping these marginal, brain-dead relationships alive. Why do we do this? Because when we come home we want to see that little flashing red light and go, "All right, messages." People need that. It's very important for human beings to feel they are popular and well-liked amongst a large group people that they have no interest in.

I hate the waiting room beacuse it's called the waiting room so there's no chance of not waiting. It's built, deigned, and intended for waiting. Why would they take you right away when they've got this room all set up? And you sit there with your little magazine. You pretend you're reading it but you're really looking at the other people. "I wonder what he's got." Then the finally call you, and you think you're going to see the doctor, but you're not. You're going into the next smaller room waiting room. Now you don't even have your magazine. You've got no pants on. You're looking at colon-cancer brochures, peeking out the blinds.
But medically speaking, it's always good to be in a small room. You don't want to be in a large room. Have you ever seen these operating theaters that they have with stadium seating? You don't want them doing anything to you that makes other doctors go, "Well, I have to see this. Are you kidding? Are they really goign to do that? Are there seats? Can we get in?"
I wonder if they ever have scalp tickets to an operation? "I got two for the Winslow tumor, who needs two?"

And why does the pharmacist have to be two and a half feet up above everybody else? Who the hell is he? He's a stockboy with pills as far as I can tell. Why can't he be down there on the floor with you and me? Brain surgeons, airplane pilots, nuclear physicists, we're all on the same level. But not him. He's gotta be two and a half feet up. "Look out, everybody, I'm working with pills up here. Spread out, gimme some room. I'm taking them from this big bottle and I'm putting them in this little bottle."
The only hard part of his whole job that I can see is typing everything onto that little, tiny label. He has to get a lot of words on there plus keep that small paper in the roller of the type writer. That impresses me. But putting pills in a bottle with a white jacket on, I don't know why you need a diploma for that.

I was audited last year. I have been through an audit.
Even though I.R.S. kind of sounds like Toys R' Us, they're not fun people. There's things they could do to liven up the audit. I think they should take all your receipts and put them in one of those big, lucite sweepstakes drums, and just crank it around---you know, give you a feeling like you might win something. Then they can pull 'em out one by one and go, "Oh, I'm sorry. That's another illegal deduction. But we do have some nice lovely parting gifts for you. . .Jail."

I will never understand why they cook on TV.
I can't smell it.
Can't eat it.
Can't taste it.
The end of the show they hold it up to the camara, "Well, here it is. You can't have any. Thanks for watching. Goodbye."

Whenever you ask for a doggie bag at a restuarant, there's a certain sense of failure there, isn't there? People always whisper it to the waiter, "Uh, excuse me. Can I get the doggie bag? I, uh, I-I couldn't make it" It's embarrassing, beacuse the doggie bag means either you're out on a restaurant when you're not hungry, or you've chosen the stupidest possible way there is to get dog food.
How about the doggie bag on a date? There's a good move. Let me tell you, if you're a guy and you ask for the doggie bag on a date, you might as well just have them wrap up your genitals too. You're not going to be needing them for a while, either.

The problem with the mall garage is that everything looks the same. They try to differeriate between levels. They put up different colors, different numbers, different letters. What they need to do is name the levels like, "Your mother's a whore." You would remember that. Your would go, "No, we're not. We're in 'My father's an abusive alcoholic'."

On my block, a lot of people walk their dogs and I always see them walking along with their little poop bags. This, to me, is the lowest activity in human life. Following a dog with a little pooper scooper. Waiting for him to go so you can walk down the street with it in your bag. If aliens are watching this through telescopes, they're going to think the dogs are the leaders of the planet. If you see two life forms, one of them's making a poop, the other one's carrying it for him, who would you assume is in charge?

As a kid, the only thing I really cared about was candy. Candy is the only reason you want to live when you're a kid. Ages zero through ten, candy is your life, there's nothing else. Family, friends, school...they're only obstacles in the way of getting more candy. And you have your favorite candies that you love. Kids actually believe that they can distinguish between 21 different versions of pure sugar.
Only a seven-year-old can actually taste the difference. When I was a kid, I could taste the difference between different color M&Ms. I thought they were different. For example, I thought the red was heartier, more of a main course M&M. And the light brown was a mellower, kind of after-dinner M.


When I was a kid, my favorite ride was the bumber cars. What a wonderful fantasy of the driving experience as it could be. All confrontation, no destination. That's what bumper cars are. Driving as an act of pure hostility. But there was always one kid on the bumpber cars that couldn't do it. As soon as the ride started, he'd be stuck in a pack of empty cars, usually ending up with the attendant hanging off that big pole, helping him steer.

I was on a plane the other day, and I was wondering, "Are there keys to the plane? Do they need keys to start the plane?"
Maybe that's what those delays on the ground are sometimes, when you're just sitting there at the gate. Maybe the pilot sits up there in the cockpit going, "Oh I don't believe this...dammit...I did it again." They tell you it's something mechanical, because they don't want to come on the P.A. system, "Ladies and gentleman, we're going to be delayed here on the ground for a while. I uh...Oh, God, this is so embarrassing...I, I left the keys to the plane in my apartment. They're in this big blue ashtray by the front door. I'm really sorry. I'll run back and get them."
You see the technicians all running around underneath the plane. You think they're servicing it, but they're actually looking for one of those magnet Hide-A-Keys under the wing.

You know, why we're here? To be out, this is out...and out is one of the single most enjoyable experiences of life. People...did you ever hear people talking about "We should go out"? This is what they're talking about...this whole thing, we're all out now, no one is home. Not one person here is home, we're all out! There are people tryin' to find us, they don't know where we are. "Did you ring?, I can't find him." "Where did he go?" "He didn't tell me where he was going". He must have gone out. You wanna go out: you get ready, you pick out the clothes, right? You take the shower, you get all ready, get the cash, get your friends, the car, the spot, the reservation...There you're staring around, whatta you do? You go: "We gotta be getting back". Once you're out, you wanna get back! You wanna go to sleep, you wanna get up, you wanna go out again tomorrow, right? Where ever you are in life, it's my feeling, you've gotta go.

I swear, I have absolutely no idea what women are thinking. I don't get it, OK? I, I, I admit, I, I'm not getting the signals. I am not getting it! Women, they're so subtle, their little.. everything they do is subtle.. men are not subtle, we are obvious. Women know what men want, men know what men want, what do we want? We want women, that's it! It's the only thing we know for sure, it really is: we want women. How do we get them? Oh, we don't know 'bout that, we don't know. The next step after that we have no idea. This is why you see men honking car-horns, yelling from construction sites. These are the best ideas we've had so far.. The car-horn-honk, is that a beauty? Have you seen men doing this? What is this? The man is in the car, the woman walks by the front of the car, he honks: [imitates horn] e-eeehh, eehhh, eehhh, this man is out of ideas. How does it..? [imitates horn again] e-e-e-eeeehhhh, "I don't think she likes me".. The amazing thing is, that we still get women, don't we. Men, I mean, men are with women. You see men with women. How are men getting women, many people wonder. Let me tell you a little bit about our organization. Where ever women are, we have a man working on the situation right now. Now, he may not be our best man, OK, we have a lot of areas to cover, but someone from our staff is on the scene.. That's why, I think, men get frustrated, when we see women reading articles, like: "Where to meet men?". We're here, we are everywhere. We're honking our horns to serve you better.

Y'know I think that even if you've had a relationship with someone or let's say, especially if you've had a relationship with someone and you try to become friends afterwards, it's very difficult. Isn't this? It's hard. Because, you know each other so well, you know all of each others tricks. It's like two magicians, trying to entertain each other. The one goes, "Look, a rabbit." The other goes, "So?.. I believe this is your card." "Look, why don't we just saw each other in half and call it a night?, Okay?"

So I move into the center lane, now I get ahead of this women, who felt for some reason I guess, that she thought that I cut her off. So, she pulls up along side of me, gives me.. the finger. It seems like such an.. arbitrary, ridiculous thing to just pick a finger and you show it to the person. It's a finger. What does it mean? Someone shows me one of their fingers and I'm supposed to feel bad. Is that the way it's supposed to work? I mean, you could just give someone the toe, really. Couldn't you? I would feel worse if I got the toe, than if I got the finger. 'Cause it's not easy to give someone the toe. You've gotta get the shoe off, the sock of and drive, get it up and, uh, pretends to drive with a foot out the window, and speaks to person driving next to him: "Look at that toe, buddy." (puts his foot down) I mean, that's really insulting to get the toe, isn't it?

I've been watching women in the department stores. They're trying on clothes, and I've noticed that they do it differently from men. Women don't try on the clothes, they get behind the clothes, you see? They take a dress off the rack, and they hold it up against themself. They can tell something from this. They stick one leg way out 'cause they need to know, "If some day I'm one-legged, and at a fourty-five degree angle, what am I gonna wear?" You never see a man do that. You never see a guy take a suit off the rack, put his head in the neck, and go, "What do you think about this suit? I think I'll get it. Yeah, it looks fine. Put some shoes by the bottom of the pants, I wanna make sure. Yeah, perfect. And what if I'm walking? Move the shoes, move the shoes, move the shoes, move the shoes."

Why is commitment such a big problem for a man? I think that, for some reason, when a man is driving down that freeway of love, the woman he's involved with is like an exit. But he doesn't want to get out, he want's to keep driving. And the woman is like, "Look, gas, food, lodging, that's our exit, that's everything we need to be happy, get out, here, now!" But the man is focusing on the sign underneath. It says, "Next exit, twenty-seven miles." And he thinks, "I can make it!"

What's with the age gap hiring policy at most movie theaters? Didja ever notice, they never hire anyone between the ages of fifteen...and eighty, you know what I mean? Like, the girl that sells you the ticket, she's ten. Then there's the guy who rips the ticket, he's a hundred and two. So, what happened in the middle, there? You couldn't find anybody? It's like they want to show you how life comes full circle. You're fifteen, you sell the tickets. Then you leave, you go out, you have a family, kids, marriage, career, grandchildren, eighty years later, you're back in the same theater three feet away. Ripping tickets. Took you eighty years to move three feet.

I always get confused in the movie theater by the, by the plot. It's embarrassing. It's an embarrassment to have to admit, but I'm the one that you see in the parking lot after the movie talking with his friends, going: "Oh, you mean that was the same guy from the beginning...Ohhhhhhhhhh...'' Nobody will explain it to you. When you're in the theater, you can't find out. "Why did they kill that guy?... Why did they kill him?... Who was that guy? What was the...I thought he was with them? Wasn't he with them? Why would they kill him if he was with them? Oh, he wasn't really with them....I thought he was with them. It's a good thing they killed him.''

I don't know about you, but I'm getting sick of pretending to be excited every time it's somebody's birthday, you know what I mean? What is the big deal? How many times do we have to celebrate that someone was born? Every year, over and over...All you did was not die for twelve months. That's all you've done, as far as I can tell. Now those astrology things where they tell you all the people that have the same birthday as you? It's always an odd group of people too, isn't it? It's like Ed Asner, Elijah Muhammed and Secretariat.

I am not gay. I am, however, thin, single and neat. Sometimes when someone is thin, single and neat people assume they are gay because that is a stereotype. They normally don't think of gay people as fat, sloppy and married. Although I'm sure there are, I don't want to perpetuate the sterotype. I'm sure they are the minority though within the gay community. They're probably descriminated against because of that, people say to them "Y'know Joe, I enjoy being gay with you but I think it's about time, y'know that you got in shape, tucked the shirt in and lost the wife". But if people are even going to assume that people that are neat are gay, maybe instead of doin' this: "Y'know I think Joe might be a little...(waves hand back and forth)", they should vacuum: "Y'know I think Joe might be >vroom< (makes vacuuming motio). Yeah, I got a feeling he's a little >vrooom<..."

You can't just have an adultery-- you commit adultery. And you can't even commit adultery unless you already have a commitment. So you have to make the commitment before you can even think about committing it. There's no commit without the commit. Then, once you commit, then you can commit the adultery and then you get caught, get divorced, lose your mind and they have you committed. But y'know some people actually cheat on the people that they're cheating with. Which is like, y'know, being in a hold up and then turning to the robber next to you and goin' "Alright, gimme everything you have, too''.

Ages zero through ten, candy is your life. There's nothing else. Family, friends, school-- they're only obstacles in the way of getting more candy. And you have your favorite candies that you love."I love those...I hate those...''. "I hate those...I love those...''. And only a seven year old kid can taste the difference between a red M&M and a light brown M&M. Two totally different things when you're seven years old. "Well, your red is more of a main course M&M, but the brown is more of a mellower flavor; it's an after dinner M&M, really''.

And it is embarrassing, because a doggie bag means either you are out at a restaurant when you aren't hungry, or you've chosen the stupidest possible way to get dogfood that there is. How about the doggie bag on a date? That's a good move for a guy, huh? Lemme tell you something: if you're a guy and you ask for the doggie bag on a date, you might as well have them just wrap up your genitals too. You're not going to be needing those for awhile, either.

Why do we need B.O.? What is the function of it? Everything in nature has a reason, has a purpose, except B.O. Doesn't make any sense-- do something good, hard work, exercise, smell very bad. This is the way the human being is designed. You move, you stink. Why can't our bodies help us? Why can't sweat smell good? It'd be a different world, wouldn't it? Instead of putting your laundry in the hamper, you'd put it in a vase. You'd go down to the drugstore and pick up some odourant and perspirant. You'd probably have a dirty sweat sock hanging from the rear-view mirror of your car. And then on a really special night, maybe a little underwear comin' out of your breast pocket. Just to let her know she's important.

Look at the work people do to get to the ocean. They'll fight the traffic and the heat and the parking and the hot sand. Trying to get through the waves, and the ironic thing is the ocean doesn't even want us in there. That's what surfing is. Surfing is the ocean throwing us out of itself, you see? We keep trying to paddle in, the ocean's saying, "No you don't." The ocean is like a nightclub and the waves are bouncers tossin' us out. The undertow's like a really mean bouncer. Instead of throwin' you out, they take you in back and rough you up a little bit. "Oh, you wanna come in? How 'bout comin' in like 25miles?" Jerry driving in his car, with Elaine in passenger seat and Kramer in back seat.

[strike wolf]

I deem that post too long.

[sportsdd2]

just a lil

[gavin_sidhu]

I deem that post too long.

compared to ur post in king of the hill master bush is an amateur.

[reverend_kyle]

I deem that post too long.

too long in the LONGEST thread thread?

[MeDeFe]

It's not a bad post, though.

[pikmin]

master bush you repeated the birthday, dog poo and movie theatre one twice each.

[qeee1]

bah... losing streak go away...