The thread in which Haggis now talks to himself

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Leukman

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*slaps Harris for reading my diary..*



*writes 1,000 words in diary fretting about how my outburst may have ruined our friendship..*




A mime is a terrible thing to waste.

Just sayin'.
 

swachski

checking the 'reset' box
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you're wong, PD..


*mime slaps monkey..*
 

cray

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Is ho-ho-hoing peoples.

Is merry Christmastime happiness.

=grabs mic=

=is sorry, mic=

a naked mole rate is walking into a bar.

:hooray:


oh dawgs, no the special guest is not you, you disgusting stuffed sock.

it's santa!!!!!


and here he comes now!!!!





leukman, you're first!

santachair.gif
 

NinaK

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Santa's here! Santa's here!

This just screams for a Christmas poem.



T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the bar,
Not a creature was stirring, not even, SR.
The thigh-highs were hung by the register with care,
In hopes that the Jameson distributor soon would be there.

The Cabbies were nestled around the pool tables green,
While pay per-view pron played on the flat-screen.
And Cray in his doo-rag and quickWit in his cap,
Took turns guzzling Guinness straight from the tap.

When out in the alley there arose such a clatter,
They all sprang from their stools to see what was the matter.
Away to the loading dock, they flew like a flash,
Tore open the exit door and started waving their cash.

The moon on the moobs of the new fallen sleet,
Gave luster to RT and Meerkat stumbling into the street.
When, what to their wondering eyes should show,
But a shiny red Escalade and eight leather-dressed ho.

A four-legged dawg driver emerged from the exhaust,
They knew in a moment it must be the boss.
More rapid than gun shots his strippers they came,
And he whistled, and barked and called them by name!

Yo Cella, yo Nina, yo Angie and Lady Jay,
On Reg! on ToT! On Cass and Kayleamay!
To the top of the dumpsters! To the top of the wall!
Now dance bitches! Dance Bitches! Dance away all!

As Monkeh spread bacon lube on the cookies and pie,
Gilroy and Kelly tossed coffee and donuts into the sky.
So up to the roof-top, the dancers they flew,
With an SUV full of booze and St. Chihuey, too.

The Cabbies rushed forward, hoping to cop a few feels,
Then heard tapping on the roof of the ho’s five-inch high heels.
As Porter stared disgustedly into his 2x4, they all turned around,
Down the exhaust duct St. Chihuey came with a bound.

He was dressed in all fur, from his head to his paw,
His red velvet Members Only jacket had not a flaw.
Bacon and hard liquor overflowed in his sack,
When he spotted Ted’s candy van, he almost turned back.

His eyes-how they twinkled! His nose black as tar,
When he passed by the register, he palmed the tip jar.
He grabbed scotch from the top shelf and looked into the night,
He chugged half the bottle, hey it couldn’t hurt, right?

A hypodermic needle he held tight in his teeth,
And grease from the grill encircled his head like a wreath.
He ran to the men’s room and into the stalls,
Writing Swachski’s home phone number all over the walls.

At first he was snarling when he heard the wine glasses crash,
Then laughed when he saw Robeiae, fall flat on his ass.
He winked one of his blood-shot eyes when he spotted Gail,
Then stopped for a bite and chewed on Del’s tail.

He worked very fast, he didn’t want to be late,
In Detroit, a Great Dane was waiting to be his night’s date.
He ate all the peanuts, cause hey, they were free,
And put jackboot prints on the ceiling just to confuse little PD.

He sprang to his ride and to his team he gave a shout,
They were in a rush to make the last show at Club Down N’ Out.
But they heard him exclaim, although kind of abrupt,
“Merry Christmas to all, now all you shut-up!”
 

Drooling Blunder

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Is me being next, please. :hooray:

Santa giving naked mole rat presents, he is wanting some.

Loving the Santa is naked mole rat.
 

cray

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it really feels like the holiday season now, eh?
 

parumpdragon

I sometimes hiccup fire
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OhMyGosh -- someone cover the muppet's eyes... Cover everyone's eyes!



hey, has anyone seen Cass lately?
 

cray

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Santa's here! Santa's here!

This just screams for a Christmas poem.



T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the bar,
Not a creature was stirring, not even, SR.
The thigh-highs were hung by the register with care,
In hopes that the Jameson distributor soon would be there.

The Cabbies were nestled around the pool tables green,
While pay per-view pron played on the flat-screen.
And Cray in his doo-rag and quickWit in his cap,
Took turns guzzling Guinness straight from the tap.

When out in the alley there arose such a clatter,
They all sprang from their stools to see what was the matter.
Away to the loading dock, they flew like a flash,
Tore open the exit door and started waving their cash.

The moon on the moobs of the new fallen sleet,
Gave luster to RT and Meerkat stumbling into the street.
When, what to their wondering eyes should show,
But a shiny red Escalade and eight leather-dressed ho.

A four-legged dawg driver emerged from the exhaust,
They knew in a moment it must be the boss.
More rapid than gun shots his strippers they came,
And he whistled, and barked and called them by name!

Yo Cella, yo Nina, yo Angie and Lady Jay,
On Reg! on ToT! On Cass and Kayleamay!
To the top of the dumpsters! To the top of the wall!
Now dance bitches! Dance Bitches! Dance away all!

As Monkeh spread bacon lube on the cookies and pie,
Gilroy and Kelly tossed coffee and donuts into the sky.
So up to the roof-top, the dancers they flew,
With an SUV full of booze and St. Chihuey, too.

The Cabbies rushed forward, hoping to cop a few feels,
Then heard tapping on the roof of the ho’s five-inch high heels.
As Porter stared disgustedly into his 2x4, they all turned around,
Down the exhaust duct St. Chihuey came with a bound.

He was dressed in all fur, from his head to his paw,
His red velvet Members Only jacket had not a flaw.
Bacon and hard liquor overflowed in his sack,
When he spotted Ted’s candy van, he almost turned back.

His eyes-how they twinkled! His nose black as tar,
When he passed by the register, he palmed the tip jar.
He grabbed scotch from the top shelf and looked into the night,
He chugged half the bottle, hey it couldn’t hurt, right?

A hypodermic needle he held tight in his teeth,
And grease from the grill encircled his head like a wreath.
He ran to the men’s room and into the stalls,
Writing Swachski’s home phone number all over the walls.

At first he was snarling when he heard the wine glasses crash,
Then laughed when he saw Robeiae, fall flat on his ass.
He winked one of his blood-shot eyes when he spotted Gail,
Then stopped for a bite and chewed on Del’s tail.

He worked very fast, he didn’t want to be late,
In Detroit, a Great Dane was waiting to be his night’s date.
He ate all the peanuts, cause hey, they were free,
And put jackboot prints on the ceiling just to confuse little PD.

He sprang to his ride and to his team he gave a shout,
They were in a rush to make the last show at Club Down N’ Out.
But they heard him exclaim, although kind of abrupt,

“Merry Christmas to all, now all you shut-up!”
.
 
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