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Posted: February 03, 2007 • 6:03 pm
by mr_cyberpunk
That was LAME
Stop it with the 1 word posts. This isn't the locker room so stop comparing the size of your post counts.
Posted: February 03, 2007 • 11:36 pm
by Fred Buer
Ok!
-Fred
Posted: February 04, 2007 • 3:16 am
by jcarnby
LOL
Posted: February 04, 2007 • 3:32 am
by mr_cyberpunk
*Honk*
Posted: February 04, 2007 • 11:11 am
by Andy
Cha, whatever.
Posted: February 05, 2007 • 1:56 pm
by Jim the old guy
Ditto
Posted: February 05, 2007 • 10:03 pm
by mr_cyberpunk
For the love of god someone destroy this thread!
Posted: February 05, 2007 • 10:25 pm
by Andy
YOU MAY TAKE OUR THREAD, BUT YOU MAY NEVER TAKE OUR FREEDOM!
Posted: February 05, 2007 • 10:34 pm
by Mr. Thomas Malloy
That's right. The annexation of this thread will never keep us from voicing our opinion. No matter how lame, or one worded it is. Viva La Resistance!
Posted: February 06, 2007 • 12:51 am
by Wintermute
Mr. Thomas Malloy wrote:Viva La Resistance!
Which language is this supposed to be? Franish? Spench?
Posted: February 06, 2007 • 10:49 am
by Andy
It's the language of the nonsensical revolution!
Posted: February 06, 2007 • 9:55 pm
by Fred Buer
Nonsensical revolution? Does that mean we have to sing from the diapraghm-a-lot?
-Fred
Posted: February 07, 2007 • 8:56 am
by Andy
He asks, as if there were any other way.
Posted: February 07, 2007 • 11:17 am
by rockefeller
"I prayed to God for a new bike everyday, but I never got one. Eventually I figures out that that's not the way God works, so instead I stole a bike and asked God for forgiveness" -TG
Bests, Rockefeller
Posted: February 07, 2007 • 11:49 am
by Andy
A young boy wanted a bicycle more than anything. Everyday he prayed for his bicycle, hoping that Christmas would deliver his dream.
Christmas came and went, to no avail. The little boy received no bicycle. He asked his mother,"Why didn't God help me get a bicycle, Mommy?"
"Because God helps those who help themselves," the mother replied.
Taking this advice to heart, the little boy began cleaning out his closet. He took everything out, organizing it neatly in his room. He then went downstairs, and carried the Virgin Mary statue his parents kept in the entryway, upstairs. He put the statue in the back of his empty closet, and put everything back in the closet after it.
The little boy sat down at his desk and, taking out a sheet of paper and pen, began to write:
"Dear God, if you ever want to see your mother again..."