BlackStone

Illogical and.... Marvin. PM me your steam info or whatever it is I need to send you both a game.

Worth of a double post.

Got the five copies... will start giving them out today... maybe.

I'm bored of the games I got need a new one

Tits or GTFO

Double post for the win

I'm feeling... giving.....

OK, so.... I'm going to give away, lets say 5, copies of SOMTC, since their going to be, supposedly, dirt cheap. Might do more... dunno.

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My only question is this. When did GT change his name?

because i'll sleep with your wife

Dude, someone beat you to it HA!

O wait.... fuck =/

Because I put up with your drunk phone calls.

<3

I haven't called you since AIT.... nice try holmes.

I'm feeling... giving.....

OK, so.... I'm going to give away, lets say 5, copies of SOMTC, since their going to be, supposedly, dirt cheap. Might do more... dunno.

How do you get a copy? Earn it. How? Figure it out. Something I find funny, random pick, sob story, whatever. Just it has to be done in this thread and I have to give a damn.

I'll buy the copies when they first go on sale and give them away as I deem someone a winner.

Work for you? Works for me.

I'm ~100 feet away from router on a desktop. :/

That might be a part of the problem... god damn 100 feet from the router?

The fuck is a pogue? lol

The fuck happened exactly?

You'll be back. They always come back.

This.

Still not getting it. Either you're joke sucks or I seriously don't understand what your trying to say. More than likely a combination of the two.

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Yep, switched those two words. Should have been the other way obviously, my mistake though. Still, really not get what your trying to say.

Honestly not getting this joke...

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Still not getting it. Either you're joke sucks or I seriously don't understand what your trying to say. More than likely a combination of the two.

Honestly, yes. I do find it beautiful in a way. Is war fucked up and dismal? Yes, but I still think it's beautiful. I'm fucked in the head.

Honestly, yes. I do find it beautiful in a way. Is war fucked up and dismal? Yes, but I still think it's beautiful. I'm fucked in the head.

Honestly not getting this joke...

War..... somewhat beatufiul

This is beautiful to you?

Gunnery Sergeant Ryan P. Shane gets shot after attempting to save a fellow Marine in Fallujah. If you think deeply into the fact of someone trying to save your life, then yes, that's beautiful, but war as a whole? Hell to the no.

Man that photographers job must be intense.

I wasn't even aware of a Civil War going on.

You can thank the media and our government(Assuming you're American) for the lack of coverage. Granted, I can see why there would be a lack of coverage, considering the last thing most Americans would want is a hint towards another war/conflict.

Honestly, yes. I do find it beautiful in a way. Is war fucked up and dismal? Yes, but I still think it's beautiful. I'm fucked in the head.

Alright, on facebook and find this shit submitted to the ASMDSS page.

DS,

WARNING FROM FT BLISS TX SOLDIER

i live in El Paso,tx at ft bliss. there is a gang here in el paso called TNT Custom Car Club and they are running motorcyclists off the road as an initiation, if they kill the rider they get special treatment. this gang is not only at ft bliss but there have been confirmed stories at ft hood and ft bragg as well. we got wind of this group by our BC in the weekend safety brief a couple months ago. but theres a catch, there not only targeting riders. they are also targeting females in cars. for the riders, 4 cars will box you in and try to either run you over or run you off the road and if your a female they will wave a gun at you and try to get you to stop. If you stop they shoot you, and if you dont, they keep pointing the gun at you till you do. as a rider myself i was informed today that they ran 1 sport bike rider off the road today. i hope you can pass this on so all other soldiers will be aware of there surroundings so another person doesnt have to die. oh,and the only identifiable markings im aware of is a "TNT" sticker on back windshield.

thanks ds.

*Sam-A*

If you know anyone in the areas spoken about, pass it on.

Not my problem, that shit is funny as hell.

All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning

computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething

cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over

forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the

process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal,

following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch

at Schoops. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with

subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things

would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at Walmart to go Christmas

shopping. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my

way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything

Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent

cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I

hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have

numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:

1. Occupied.

2. Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied

one.

3. Poo on seat.

4. Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.

5. No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of

toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall #2. I trudged back, entered, dropped trousers

and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Shitter. I wasn't happy about being

next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.

I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds

of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound

of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone

conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of

Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on

and on. Mr. Shitter was blathering to Mrs. Shitter about the shity day he

had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the

loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I,

too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My

bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon,

my day would be getting even crappier.

Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer

cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand

against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded

with a fart of colossal magnitude - a cross between the sound of someone

ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall.

The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not

unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency

of the stall, and it shook gently.

Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became

apparent:

(1) The next-door conversation had ceased

(2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come

(3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench. It was as if

a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way

under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart

had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.

"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of

choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear

that (gag)??"

Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear

that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and

blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in

me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later,

in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to

ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now,

all I could do was hang on for the ride.

Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he

desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made

themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw

up...in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh

God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.

Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at

the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding

down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear

words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I

could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal

announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily

into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a

fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him

running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage.

I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew

that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that

unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.

As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl.

Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom

with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.

I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a

face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural

elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous

poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop

in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo.

And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.

War..... somewhat beatufiul

Well shit.... Join the club Mitch lol

Illogical.

I am going to hunt you down, rip out your throat and feed you to a god damn turkey. I hate you so much right now.

I'm not sure what the hell I just watched.... but at least the music was decent.

Cool

Wait a sec, are you in Fort Carson?

Why, you close to there?

See, trying to do something, it's shits out.

No, it's just that one of my friends is in a tanker unit there.

You have any idea how unlikely it is that I've met him? lol

Wait a sec, are you in Fort Carson?

Why, you close to there?

See, trying to do something, it's shits out.