in russia
by
Anonymous Coward
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· Score: -1, Offtopic
Data mines you.
Do you mind?
Michael Sims
by
Anonymous Coward
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· Score: -1, Offtopic
is an idiot.
Re:Michael Sims
by
Anonymous Coward
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· Score: -1, Offtopic
Oh come on, Timothy - no need to mod this down so quickly - You have to work with the communist fuckwit, you should appreciate this little-known fact being brought to light.
Re:Michael Sims
by
Anonymous Coward
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· Score: -1, Offtopic
stop slandering people or you will die a slander
Michael Sims
by
Anonymous Coward
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· Score: -1, Offtopic
"Dude, you've got to get him out of your basement," said Dwayne. "I've tried already," I said in a decidedly hushed voice looking back across the road at my parents house. "My parents think he's better than me - he's putting some kind of wierd technical shit on my dad's computer. It's fucking hopeless - they like him man." Sally eyeballed between Dwayne and myself, obviously waiting to see which one of us was going to act first after winning this little debate. That girl looked really hot in her bleached fucked up pigtails. I knew I had to do something to impress her. "Just wait till he starts smelling again." Said Dwayne with the smug look of a victor in his eyes as he folded his arms. "He's gonna start smelling again, and your parents are gonna whiff the goddamn nerd in your basement and think you have some pretty fucking weird friends. If he finds our weed and decides he likes that too - how much shit do you think you'll be in then. Huh?" Dwayne nodded up and down Gangster style over his crossed arms. Sally could tell he'd found a pretty tight strangle hold with that one.
Dwayne had won and I found myself acting. With one quick look over my shoulder and the thought of our stash of weed in mind I knew I had to do somethin'. Sally giggled as I started back for the basement again. Pop's red Buick by the side of the road was a reminder of what was at stake. No goddamn Unix hippy was getting me in deep trouble with the folks like the joyride did last year. "Get tha fuck outta the basement," was all I could think as I hustled across the lawn. I looked in the sunken window and sure enough the glow of my dad's computer screen was clear enough in there. Holding me hostage or somethin'. "Hey, hey, hey, Walter man," I called out with as much nicey shit as I could when I entered. "Watcha doin?" I said as I neared his hallowed place at my dad's Walmart electronic piece of shite. Walter looked up, that same look of Jesus Christ in technical Nirvana on his face again. "Oh, I'm installing Slackware on your father's, er father's computer," he said as he bowed his bearded face again. How a kid of 17 could have that much hair on his face was really a strange thing. Walter didn't look like he was in total turtle mode yet, maybe it was time to ask the big question. "Wanna go drive - for a big Mac and coke with me, Dwayne and Sally. Tomato sauce with everything. It's starting to get late y'know?" I kept my attention on him, whilst sitting back on the urge to throw my dad's computer against the wall. "The thing about Linux - and well most desktop versions of Unix is that it takes a lot of um, work to set things up just so," said Walter as he beginning doing some technical shit with the fucking mouse. I could hear Dwayne and Sally on the steps just outside. It was time for a time-out.
"He looks like he's found a home there" said Dwayne with a chuckle as I poked my head out the basement door. "Fuck man." I exclaimed. "He's tighter than Mr. Goober with a set of leathers. How the fuck am I gonna get him outta the house?" Sally was really beginning to get with the giggles now. "Dude, maybe you should attach a keyboard or somethin' to a fishing rod - dangle it outside the fucking window." Sally was really hitting the high notes with her donkey assed laughter by now. This night was starting to get pretty fucking lame.
EHM
Michael Sims business plan
by
Anonymous Coward
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· Score: -1, Offtopic
1. Make production illegal. 2. Make profit illegal. 3. Make capitalism illegal. 4. ??? 5. Profit!!! ( the rules are different for Sims, of course )
The important thing about Natalie Portman's grits isn't that she eat them, it's that she pour them down my pants.
If she wants to eat them after that, well, that's fine, but any pleasure derived from that would be purely auxiliary.
In conclusion, I would be delighted if Miss Portman would be so kind as to pour some hot, steamy grits down the front of my trousers. Thank you for your time, and have a pleasant day.
--
-- the strongest word is still the word "free"
is a size-32 bra an indication of something?
by
kfg
·
· Score: 0, Offtopic
Slashdot Mirror
Data mines you.
Do you mind?
is an idiot.
is a total moron.
"Dude, you've got to get him out of your basement," said Dwayne.
"I've tried already," I said in a decidedly hushed voice looking back across the road at my parents house.
"My parents think he's better than me - he's putting some kind of wierd technical shit on my dad's computer.
It's fucking hopeless - they like him man."
Sally eyeballed between Dwayne and myself, obviously waiting to see which one of us was going to act first after winning this little debate.
That girl looked really hot in her bleached fucked up pigtails. I knew I had to do something to impress her.
"Just wait till he starts smelling again." Said Dwayne with the smug look of a victor in his eyes as he folded his arms.
"He's gonna start smelling again, and your parents are gonna whiff the goddamn nerd in your basement and think you have some pretty fucking weird friends. If he finds our weed and decides he likes that too - how much shit do you think you'll be in then. Huh?"
Dwayne nodded up and down Gangster style over his crossed arms.
Sally could tell he'd found a pretty tight strangle hold with that one.
Dwayne had won and I found myself acting. With one quick look over my shoulder and the thought of our stash of weed in mind I knew I had to do somethin'. Sally giggled as I started back for the basement again.
Pop's red Buick by the side of the road was a reminder of what was at stake. No goddamn Unix hippy was getting me in deep trouble with the folks like the joyride did last year.
"Get tha fuck outta the basement," was all I could think as I hustled across the lawn.
I looked in the sunken window and sure enough the glow of my dad's computer screen was clear enough in there. Holding me hostage or somethin'.
"Hey, hey, hey, Walter man," I called out with as much nicey shit as I could when I entered.
"Watcha doin?" I said as I neared his hallowed place at my dad's Walmart electronic piece of shite.
Walter looked up, that same look of Jesus Christ in technical Nirvana on his face again.
"Oh, I'm installing Slackware on your father's, er father's computer," he said as he bowed his bearded face again. How a kid of 17 could have that much hair on his face was really a strange thing.
Walter didn't look like he was in total turtle mode yet, maybe it was time to ask the big question.
"Wanna go drive - for a big Mac and coke with me, Dwayne and Sally. Tomato sauce with everything. It's starting to get late y'know?"
I kept my attention on him, whilst sitting back on the urge to throw my dad's computer against the wall.
"The thing about Linux - and well most desktop versions of Unix is that it takes a lot of um, work to set things up just so," said Walter as he beginning doing some technical shit with the fucking mouse.
I could hear Dwayne and Sally on the steps just outside. It was time for a time-out.
"He looks like he's found a home there" said Dwayne with a chuckle as I poked my head out the basement door.
"Fuck man." I exclaimed.
"He's tighter than Mr. Goober with a set of leathers. How the fuck am I gonna get him outta the house?"
Sally was really beginning to get with the giggles now.
"Dude, maybe you should attach a keyboard or somethin' to a fishing rod - dangle it outside the fucking window."
Sally was really hitting the high notes with her donkey assed laughter by now.
This night was starting to get pretty fucking lame.
EHM
1. Make production illegal.
2. Make profit illegal.
3. Make capitalism illegal.
4. ???
5. Profit!!! ( the rules are different for Sims, of course )
The important thing about Natalie Portman's grits isn't that she eat them, it's that she pour them down my pants.
If she wants to eat them after that, well, that's fine, but any pleasure derived from that would be purely auxiliary.
In conclusion, I would be delighted if Miss Portman would be so kind as to pour some hot, steamy grits down the front of my trousers. Thank you for your time, and have a pleasant day.
--
the strongest word is still the word "free"
Yes.
KFG