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Jeffrey may have been a little drunk, but if you were only 4 feet tall, you'd drink too.
When Jeffrey tried to make a belt out of his wristwatch, everyone laughed, calling it a waist of time.
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Dan adored his fear so much that he feared losing it, to the point that he often had panic attacks whenever he wasn't having a panic attack.
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Bob was at that awkward point in life where he didn't know what demographic he was covered under.
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Dan hated the thought of growning old alone, so that's why he built the universal super aging machine.
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Dan was the type of guy women loved to drop out of airplanes.
Dan was the type of guy who love to pick up women at airports, but they always complained and the security guards started carrying those stun guns, so Dan started picking up luggage at the airport instead.
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Bob was really into Designing Women until someone turned it into a sitcom and told him to stop.
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Bob wrote novels of different lengths so that people could buy just the right one to prop up their table legs.
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At the age of 45, Bob finally mastered the art of talking to women -- just so long as it was on the phone, and the woman called him, and, okay, it was just this one woman really, and she wasn't really that into phone calling anyway, so there weren't such high expectations.
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Bob wasn't quite the noble, bold captain of his life, but he was kind've the drunken, disheveled chauffeur of his life.
If the different drummer had been one armed and epileptic, his beat would've been the one Bob would march to.
Although the sun rises on both the righteous and the wicked, Bob was damned to hell for being just utterly boring.
Bob was never visited by the bluebird of happiness, but he had often been visited by the cuckoo of vague disorientation.
It was time for Christin to stand tall and be a man, despite the fact that she was a relatively short, rotund woman.
Life was like poker; you can't argue with the hand that you're dealt. Bob, however, never had the money to ante up.
Bob was the kind've jerk who would pay for a date entirely in change.
In the road of life, there are passengers and there are drivers. Bob was the drunken hitchiker.
Bob was the kind've guy who thought Taco Bell and boxed wine were good enough for a special night in.
Bob's routine had him up at six in the morning; at 6:01 he was back in bed, because that's far too early.
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Bob figured that if life was a roller-coaster, he might as well make sure it had at least a couple of loops and a corkscrew.
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Bob felt like he was ready to take wing, he just didn't know how he'd get it past airport security.
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Bob always thought the waiters were stupid for taking the cork OUT of the bottle rather than pushing it in.
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Mick had beaten Super Mario Brothers in under three minutes, had streamlined the networks of three different Fortune 500 companies, had rewritten a major chunk of the Linux source code to reduce processing time, and once had almost, almost had a complete conversation with a girl.
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Stella's love was hard-won; first you had to bellow from the street below, and then you had to go up and open her window... so she could hear what you were bellowing.
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Hi Geomancer! Welcome to the 3rd best thread in the history of the Internet!
Bob became so adept at promoting himself that no-one noticed until it was too late that he accounted for 92% of the payroll budget.
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Hey Ricky. You don't know me, but I already feel quite brotherly toward you .
Glad you are now allowed to post here now, and that you stick around. It is a really awesome place when you get to know it. Posts: 5656 | Registered: Oct 1999
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