9441: Concerning the Anatomy of the Male Giant Squid
The average male giant squid (not to be confused with the Colossal Squid) has a prehensile penis that is 90 centimeters (that's roughly 3 feet) long.
I sent that message (or it's equivalent) via text-message to a select few friends. The notable responses:
Her: You got a squid dick? Hawt. Wrap that shit around my leg!
My Response: (something witty and then deleted by me before I wrote this)
Him: just like my dad.
My Response: Dad or e-Dad?
Him: my e-dad. he faxed me a pic. i can forward you the fax just as soon as i'm off my grounding and my e-dad reinstates my fax priveleges.
Different Her: If all men were squid maybe I wouldn't be a lesbian...
A Third Her: Holy shit. Talk about a combination of size and knowing how to use it, eh?
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Hastily scrawled in what could only be called long and graceful handwriting if such terms could be applied to the Hastily scrawled type of message was a simple message: "Do not trust his idle and disinterested actions. He plays the waiting game for your throne."
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The alternator on my car died this weekend. I am gravely displeased by this. Coincidentally, my job looks to be pretty shitty for the rest of my 12 day workweek. The good news is that I only have 8 more days of work before my camping trip in Maine. I seem to be unusually excited for a 3-day weekend, probably because this is the first vacation I've taken in a while and really the first one where I'm traveling away since I've been an adult. Hopefully I'll be able to afford the new alternator, my trip to Maine, and my Touchbook. It might be close depending on how expensive the alternator is versus when AlwaysInnovating ships me (and subsequently charges my account) my new laptop.
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He hope that his eventual eulogy begins with "He is the only man every recorded to be electrocuted by an erupting volcano. He was also a cactus and crossbow enthusiast."
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I am now going to spend probably 15 minutes looking for a song that encapsulates my precise emotions right as it begins to play.
I sent that message (or it's equivalent) via text-message to a select few friends. The notable responses:
Her: You got a squid dick? Hawt. Wrap that shit around my leg!
My Response: (something witty and then deleted by me before I wrote this)
Him: just like my dad.
My Response: Dad or e-Dad?
Him: my e-dad. he faxed me a pic. i can forward you the fax just as soon as i'm off my grounding and my e-dad reinstates my fax priveleges.
Different Her: If all men were squid maybe I wouldn't be a lesbian...
A Third Her: Holy shit. Talk about a combination of size and knowing how to use it, eh?
---
Hastily scrawled in what could only be called long and graceful handwriting if such terms could be applied to the Hastily scrawled type of message was a simple message: "Do not trust his idle and disinterested actions. He plays the waiting game for your throne."
---
The alternator on my car died this weekend. I am gravely displeased by this. Coincidentally, my job looks to be pretty shitty for the rest of my 12 day workweek. The good news is that I only have 8 more days of work before my camping trip in Maine. I seem to be unusually excited for a 3-day weekend, probably because this is the first vacation I've taken in a while and really the first one where I'm traveling away since I've been an adult. Hopefully I'll be able to afford the new alternator, my trip to Maine, and my Touchbook. It might be close depending on how expensive the alternator is versus when AlwaysInnovating ships me (and subsequently charges my account) my new laptop.
---
He hope that his eventual eulogy begins with "He is the only man every recorded to be electrocuted by an erupting volcano. He was also a cactus and crossbow enthusiast."
---
I am now going to spend probably 15 minutes looking for a song that encapsulates my precise emotions right as it begins to play.