The Conservative Cave
The Bar => The Lounge => Topic started by: Lord Undies on February 04, 2009, 12:42:42 AM
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Pour a cranberry cocktail laced with ginger ale and lean your head back. Imagine everyone you ever wanted is touching your clothed body. Put on some Barry White on the repeat, turn the volume down and the bass up and smell the White Shoulders and the imitation musk oil from the dollar store.
The night life around Conservative Cave is pathetic. Hell's bells, you ingots of Posting Gold. At least leave yourselves logged-in while you nappy in your footies.
The current census is less than I had the last time I fell in the bathroom.
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Just as I thought. You people suck nostrils.
:tongue:
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Let's see if we can stir up some controversy. Y'all do realize WE is a closet homosapien who has had all kinds of wanton sex with his own kind (mainly himself)?
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Ok. How about WE once bruised his "manhood" at a Tupperware Party?? Huh? Huh?
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OK, little known fact: The character of Dewey in "Malcom In The Middle" was based on WE's childhood.
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Did y'all know that if you clip your toenails after midnight while assigning "she loves me, she loves me knot", it will turn out she doesn't love your ass at all?
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Helpful hint: Bacon will not shrivel if you talk to it while it fries. This concept does not apply to your wife's aging face.
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Loose bowels sinks sinks, if you are adventurous.
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Schooling in the USA: Ignorance is a lack of exposure to facts. Stupidity is the acceptance of the lack of exposure.
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I have more hair under my left arm than my right. Could it be friction?
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WE still sucks Dixie straws.
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Remember car radio antenna that use to go up and down with a motor's engagement? Why was that a good idea?
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I bought a sanding sponge at a craft store. It works great on my heels.
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Every year after I was old enough to remember, my Dad's mother sent me a birthday card with one dollar inside. My birthday is in the middle of June. It was better than Christmas. Just waiting for that Postman who carried my fortune....wow.
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I was never a fan of pickles. Oh, they have their purpose for sure, but I could never muster the enthusiasm for pickles the other kids had. Except for Bread & Butter Pickle slices. I could suck those down by the ton. That's probably why my bottom weighed a ton.
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I never understood the Harry Potter craze. The only Harry Potter I ever really understood was the time I walked in on my Uncle Junior on the toilet.
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Then there was the time I felt up a girl in a dark stairway. I promised then and there to never again have Greek columns in my home.
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My brother, who is thirteen years older than me, once asked me if I had a favorite song. I told him that I have many favorite songs, and that some of those songs are my best friends. He pondered that.
My brother, being a Korean War vet, somehow knew what I meant. Our lives had been so very different, but he knew while he was away, the music kept him alive. It brought us together for a short time.
I haven't seen my brother for almost 25 years. That's his choice.
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I'm on diabetes watch, like I have been since I was 12. Did you know they want my waist to be smaller than my ankles?
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My first real girlfriend was a Chinese girl named Penny. We were in the first grade in Houston. I was five and she was six. Penny was the coin of my realm.
I remember going to a store with my mom and finding a shirt with Lincoln head pennies printed all over it. I cried for that shirt. Mother bought it.
I wore it almost everyday.
I hated Mrs. Scott. She was our teacher. The old bag of red hair should have retired nine years before we became her victims. I console myself knowing she is ancient grave wax today. The woman was horrible. I didn't stick her in Houston, for crying out loud.
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Did any of you boys with older sisters ever actually put on their panties? Me either.
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I've done all I can do here. WE is probably drooling on the "1". "@", and the "QWESC" about now, totaly unaware his underwear is on fire from the candle he left burning on the floor.
He will talk about his rash tomorrow.
Goodnight, suite prints.
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I've come back to say, ya'know, I like being me. I have always liked being me. I've had plenty of enemies throughout my life who didn't want me to enjoy being me, but they didn't win.
I am a happy person full of love and joy. I seek out the best in everyone. I have my love for The Lord to thank for that, and the fact The Lord always knew I was a joyous soul. He has always looked after me.
My darkest roads have always been short and bright with Light at the end.
I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed, and still enjoy, not being a miserable human being.
I've enjoyed my relationship with Our Lord, my family, then and now, every friend, my talents (which make me unique), and all the gifts my life has received. I have been a blessed guy since the day I slide out the Mama Tube.
There! I feel better for saying it out loud. Thank you, Lord, for making me me. Thank You for my wonder-filled life.
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One of my favorite treats is to crumble some saltine craker in a bowl, cut up a few tidbits of red onion, and slather it with fresh Thousand Island dressing. Don't forget the cracked pepper!
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Twenty years ago, I had to have surgery on The Family Jewels. There was the dark spot which came upon the jewels some thought may be cancerous.
Before being put into controlled death, the surgeon told me he would take what he had to take to save my life.
Guess where my hands were in the recovery room.
Nothing like anticipating cherry tomatotes in the salad and finding out you're not the last one at the buffet after all.
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Many of my internet friends have asked what I look like in real life. I can answer that.
Everyone who knows me says I look like Kurt Cobain.....when they found him.
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Oh please! Stop!
I'll be back on Thursday!
Love you!
Please remember the waitstaff.....otherwise I have to share my tips with that scum!
Oh! Stop! STOP!
(stage direction: throw hands up and walk off stage. Come back out and say WE is still a faggy princess. The audience will understand and clap)
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. . . would you all believe that I am actually sorry that I missed this thread last night? :-)
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Holy Shit...
:-)
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entertaining thread...distrubing, but entertaining! :-)
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When you begin to talk to yourself.................................
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. . . would you all believe that I am actually sorry that I missed this thread last night? :-)
It looks more to me like you used :admin: to access Undies' password, downed a bottle of scotch, then went on a drunken writing rampage to make him look foolish. Either that, or Undies is hitting the sauce himself.
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. . . would you all believe that I am actually sorry that I missed this thread last night? :-)
Me, too.
Since I normally eschew "cocktail hour" threads, I missed this one.
LU is certainly feeling barmy.
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When you begin to talk to yourself.................................
I was bored and awake. I wanted someone intelligent and fascinating to talk to.
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I.....uh......dunno.
Is LU from this planet? I'm asking for a friend.....
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I decided to make a Mexican Jumping Bean Casserole to take to a pot luck event. I thought nothing would WoW the group more than a dish that moves. I envisioned specks of jalapeno confetti flying from one side of the dish to the other.
I don't know what went wrong. Maybe the tomato sauces was too heavy. When I took it out of the oven, they just laid there. It looked like grandma's baked beans.
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My mustache had been a fixture on my face for over thirty years before I decided to shave it off. I decided to shave it off because it had become a rainbow of colors. It looked like I had a miniature Warhol Dalmatian resting between my upper lip and my nose.
The only reason I had the mustache was because I think my mouth is too small for my face. I once described it as looking like a coin slot.
Sure'nuff, since shaving my mustache, six total strangers have crammed quarters in my mouth. I stopped going to that bookstore.
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Are warts islands in the Skin Sea?
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My mustache had been a fixture on my face for over thirty years before I decided to shave it off. I decided to shave it off because it had become a rainbow of colors. It looked like I had a miniature Warhol Dalmatian resting between my upper lip and my nose.
The only reason I had the mustache was because I think my mouth is too small for my face. I once described it as looking like a coin slot.
Sure'nuff, since shaving my mustache, six total strangers have crammed quarters in my mouth. I stopped going to that bookstore.
I have a virgin mustache -- I have never shaved above my lip in my entire many decades life.
And I am thinking we need to get you some help, LU.
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Don't you dare judge me. At least not until after the swinesuit competition.
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Don't you dare judge me. At least not until after the swinesuit competition.
Does that mean you'll be wearing one of these?
(http://www.nerve.com/CS/blogs/scanner/2008/04/01-07/bra.jpg)
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Does that mean you'll be wearing one of these?
(http://www.nerve.com/CS/blogs/scanner/2008/04/01-07/bra.jpg)
why am I not surprised that bacon enered this thread? :-)
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I was bored and awake. I wanted someone intelligent and fascinating to talk to.
I was asleep.
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Does that mean you'll be wearing one of these?
(http://www.nerve.com/CS/blogs/scanner/2008/04/01-07/bra.jpg)
That looks like a pervert autopsy. I like it.
( I wonder what would make it sizzle)
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I never though of my parents as sexual beings. Then it happened. I was up late one night when I was about fourteen. I saw them waddle into the hall bathroom together (they didn't have a private bath). They weren't fat people. Why were they waddling and why did they go into the bathroom together?
Does anyone else remember the smell of Massengill Douche?
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I never though of my parents as sexual beings. Then it happened. I was up late one night when I was about fourteen. I saw them waddle into the hall bathroom together (they didn't have a private bath). They weren't fat people. Why were they waddling and why did they go into the bathroom together?
Does anyone else remember the smell of Massengill Douche?
OK, now I *know* we need to speed help to you post haste.
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I promised I would be back on Thursday. It's Thursday!
I like Tuesday and Thursday. They have no meaning. One is the day after Monday and the other is the day before Friday.
Actually, Thursdays are the day our money gets deposited into our primary checking account, so it should mean something. But I'm in the Wayback Machine right now.
My dad used to call me the Champaign Kid with the Beer Pocket Parents. That wasn't exactly true. My parents were extremely frugal. They had money to burn.
We lived in a nice house with plenty of room. It just wasn't in a special neighborhood. I hated that.
I had my own room from the age of thirteen, and I got to pick out the paint, the drapes, and the furniture. It was the showplace of the house. My mother use to encourage me to leave my door open.
Could my dad have been right? Nah.
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Did you know that one of my granddaughters who is second cousins to Reba McEntire is quite musical and loves to sing? She's pretty good too. The other one couldn't carry a tune in a basket with a lid on it. But she is gorgeous. Drop-dead never-forget-how-pretty gorgeous.
Back before my family got connected to Reba, I use to call her "rat-faced Reba". I still cannot shake that.
This is not to imply that I or her cousins have ever meet the woman or in any way share a history with her. I doubt seriously she knows they exist.
My ex-son-in-law's dad was Reba's dad's brother. His name was Kenneth. He was 24 years older than I. That's how Reba and I were born in the same year.
My granddaughters from that marriage had two grandpas. One was old enough to be the other one's dad.
Kenneth McEntire died a couple of years ago. It saddened me how no one in that family acknowledge his death.
If you ever see the Reba McEntire "Behind The Music" or the A&E Biography, when you see her dad, he looks just like Kenneth. It spooked me out.
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I decided to make a Mexican Jumping Bean Casserole to take to a pot luck event. I thought nothing would WoW the group more than a dish that moves. I envisioned specks of jalapeno confetti flying from one side of the dish to the other.
I don't know what went wrong. Maybe the tomato sauces was too heavy. When I took it out of the oven, they just laid there. It looked like grandma's baked beans.
Hopefully the beans did not reactivate once inside your intestines.
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Hopefully the beans did not reactivate once inside your intestines.
No, but that could be interesting too. They could dance "Hot Hot Hot" into the enevitable toilet bowl.
Oh su caliente!