Discussion in 'Diamond Lil's' started by The_Jimmy, Jul 24, 2009.
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What has been planned for this event? :twisted:
I hear Taloolah is the surprise act
MLP is the MC and there is a few other surprises to follow :twisted:
Shake him fcukin rotten if RJ jumps out the wedding cake and grabs the bride. :twisted: :twisted: 8O
8) There's talk of a wee surprise....although, he's already had one stag do :wink:
He's got to get the shift off to get married first! :lol:
You're a midget then? Perfect height for him 8)
Believe me mucker i do not want to end up in my local A&E anymore having suffered that indignity many times over this last year!!! i will however be having several large beers in about an hour so standby to standby!!
Cheers all and those strumpets that are thinking.........if only it was me!! :wink:
Best of Luck and Happiness for the future Royal
Night order book.
Report speed, position, and state of bottom at 2359
XRDs night out:
Stomach: Cool, he's napping. That's good, I need all the energy I can get to work on those two crunchwrap supremes he just plopped down here.
Colon: Sorry, gotta do my 'thang.
Stomach: Colon! You just woke him up! I'm not even halfway done with this yet. Whatever, sounds like he's up and about now. You're trigger-happy, Colon. It's not safe!
Stomach: What's that, Skin? He's in the shower? Sounds good. Whadaya say, Balls? He's using a lot of soap? Nice!
Balls: I know!
Stomach: What the hell? A beer? A freezing-ass beer in the shower? Whatever it's just one, but really?
Stomach: Margaritas and nachos? Are you making this a theme day or something? Bladder, heads up. Looks like we're in a friggin' Mexican restaurant on margarita night.
Bladder: 10-4, good buddy.
Stomach: What the HELL am I supposed to do with all these beans, guy? You think I've got a machine down here turning re-fried beans into stardust? Those grumbles are me saying to chill out! And Colon, don't you get any ideas.
Colon: I'm fine. Shut up.
Stomach: Wow, I'm struggling. I'm begging for a nice nap, but from what Nose tells me we're in a dive bar. I just hope I don...JAGER SHOT! JAGER SHOT! Alert! Alert! Set condition one and seal all emergency hatches! Looks like he's getting shitfaced, everyone!
Stomach: Bladder, you're doing great. We're working together like gears in a Swiss watch. I set em' up, you knock em' down. I passed off most of the heavy lifting to Intestines. Colon is keeping up his end of the deal. We're cool. I just hope...JAGER SHOT! JAGER SHOT! Damn that one really shook...we can't keep taking hits like this!
Eyes: Everyone, are you seeing all these babes? These girls look awesome!
Stomach: Shake it off, you three! That's the third pitcher talking and you know it! Hold it together! He's switching to whiskey!
Stomach: We're at condition red, I can barely hold this together. There's booze getting into everything! Looks like Brain is starting to shut some things down. Sorry, Penis.
Stomach: Oh god, I'm a wreck. Eyes said he's riding shotgun to get drunk food now...he's sitting on the Hindenburg and doesn't even know it.
Tongue: Head's up, Stomach! It's not pretty! He eating some kind of f*cked up diner burger with a fried egg on it!
Stomach: I'm going to lose it!
Bladder: Me too!
Colon: Me three!
Separate names with a comma.