Remember back in the 50s when they'd record like Elvis singing YOU AIN'T NOTHIN BUT A HOUND DOG and then they'd turn the record over and reverse it and it was all NYERP NYERP NYERP NYERP NYERP and people were all like, "That is actually the voice of Satan coming from that song."
Suddenly, that reminds me. Last night, my dream was about celebrating my next birthday by making picture frames out of discarded candle wax on the front lawn while wearing pajamas. I was then given a sloppily half-eaten cake to finish off.
For some strange reason, I suspect this is not how my next birthday will go.
Argh, feeling frustrated tonight. TVT is having another policy meltdown, I tried to write Ally when I was tired, again (and ended up making an ass of myself, again), and I can smell dinner cooking but it's not ready yet.
Remember back in the 50s when they'd record like Elvis singing YOU AIN'T NOTHIN BUT A HOUND DOG and then they'd turn the record over and reverse it and it was all NYERP NYERP NYERP NYERP NYERP and people were all like, "That is actually the voice of Satan coming from that song."
Sorry. I just couldn't think of anything to say besides wonderposting in the main threads for that purpose.
Remember back in the 50s when they'd record like Elvis singing YOU AIN'T NOTHIN BUT A HOUND DOG and then they'd turn the record over and reverse it and it was all NYERP NYERP NYERP NYERP NYERP and people were all like, "That is actually the voice of Satan coming from that song."
Remember back in the 50s when they'd record like Elvis singing YOU AIN'T NOTHIN BUT A HOUND DOG and then they'd turn the record over and reverse it and it was all NYERP NYERP NYERP NYERP NYERP and people were all like, "That is actually the voice of Satan coming from that song."
And with that, I think it's time for me to go to bed. Good night.
You are the end result of a “would you push the button” prompt where the prompt was “you have unlimited godlike powers but you appear to all and sundry to be an impetuous child” – Zero, 2022
"Sorry I'm late bitches!" A portly pony dressed in a suspiciously stained chef’s apron trotted in, pushing a mountain of glistening donuts. "Donut Joe's the name, and I love donuts. I mean..." he licked his lips, a thin trail of drool escaping. "I love donuts." One of the donuts rolled off the top of the pile onto the floor. He stared at it, slobbering. "Oh you naughty donut, falling onto the floor. You're so dirty! I bet you want some of my cream filling? Yes you do, oh oh oh..."
I'm hoping for either a sensible, level-headed solution to this where everyone wins (unlikely), or Eddie saying "FUCK THIS SHIT *tumut*" and taking the site offline until he feels better (also unlikely).
Comments
O>O
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Have a listen to my rhyme
...ugh, I feel bored...
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
...I'm gonna go post that poem I wrote about roads in the poetry thread.
That might interest him.
CA's the one who's the road fanatic, you ditz!
Well, I don't have any poems about fonts and/or corporations! We'll work with what we have.
carry on, carry on
SLUDGE METAL
DOOM METAL
BLACK METAL
METAL METAL
Seems like I should've known about it
I wish Vanilla had avatar galleries.
Hopefully the storm isn't a bad one.
-is jealous-