Lurker > HotLap

Master of None
Silicon Valley

@WafflehouseJK I love you, but your numbering is all fucked up babe.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

SmidgeIsntBack posted...

@HotLap

Parappa09 posted...

hotlap and grim are definitely up there as best posters

<3 you boys. You're both on my list for sure.

@SmidgeIsntBack
@Parappa09
@Chaze_the_chat
@CM_Ponch
@Fossil

A bunch of others that I can't @. Loved BillyAssGunnMan, ProTect's gimmick, CoolBeansAvl, TravellingJack, and basically everyone from the 2011 era tonight. Probably forgetting a lot more.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Nidhoggr posted...

HotLap posted...

Fight fire with fire. What other disgusting cold shit do you have in your fridge?

There's a single slice of pizza from PizzaHut that's been in there for 6 days lol

You know what you have to do.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Fight fire with fire. What other disgusting cold shit do you have in your fridge?
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Party Down
Silicon Valley
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Update likely on Sunday.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Atlanta
The Good Place
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

DocileOrangeCup posted...

HotLap posted...

More like holesome am I right?

Wow she has holeitis too soon man

Is it Holeitis A? That's the hole-to-mouth one
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

More like holesome am I right?
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Hot and brown?
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

I can't focus on podcasts while working, but I listen to music. I'll listen to podcasts while driving though.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

George Zimmerman
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

CableZL posted...

lww99 posted...

And if you're a homeowner?

Grow down. Put carpet everywhere.

Grow horizontally. Put carpet on the side walls and grass on the bottom wall.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

What the fuck is happening here?

Bacon_Pancakes posted...

I'm drunk so it's all jumbled but I do have a point I think...

Ah okay.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Atlanta
Silicon Valley
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

@Doom_Art

Since you mentioned me in that CE History topic.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

mY phonE autocorrectS mY capitalizatioN tO thiS. hoW dO iI turN thiS ofF?
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

NeonOctopus posted...

I forgot about Nightmaker. That dude was a riot >_>

I forgot about Nightmaker too. He was great. Although my favorite was BillyAssGunnMan.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

You gotta put the cover on it or else your strawberry daquiris will go everywhere.

Hope this helped.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

I remember turtle time.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

You don't qualify.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

A, but I agree we should put Shinx away.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

WaterLink posted...

Your work is brilliant by the way. Particularly the dialogue. I've tried to dabble in making stories of my own but the dialogue always gives me trouble but I like your style. And I kinda wanna go in that direction, but that's kinda the catch 22 because I dont wanna be the creative type ripping off of someone else ya know? But I do admire your work.

Thanks! I really appreciate it. Although I'm hardly the first to use this style, I'd say. As long as you find a way to make it your own, I say go for it. If it works, it works.

CM_Ponch posted...

AssMuff has the best dialogue. It's just so vivid in my head. I hope to one day see an AssMuff movie.

If this becomes a movie then you all get a writing credit. Personally I'm looking forward to an Oakman movie. I literally cried the first time I read it. Is that archived anywhere?

Kircheis posted...

The one time I ever dabbled in writing I had the opposite problem. Dialogue came somewhat naturally to me, but everything else about writing was just like, what am I even doing, dude?! x.x

This is me, 100%. That's why my stories are usually so dialogue heavy.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

New Girl
Rick and Morty
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

I saw J.J. Abrams at a grocery store in Los Angeles yesterday. I told him how cool it was to meet him in person, but I didnt want to be a douche and bother him and ask him for photos or anything.
He said, Oh, like youre doing now?
I was taken aback, and all I could say was Huh? but he kept cutting me off and going huh? huh? huh? and closing his hand shut in front of my face.
I walked away and continued with my shopping, and I heard him chuckle as I walked off. When I came to pay for my stuff up front I saw him trying to walk out the doors with like fifteen Milky Ways in his hands without paying. The girl at the counter was very nice about it and professional, and was like Sir, you need to pay for those first.
At first he kept pretending to be tired and not hear her, but eventually turned back around and brought them to the counter. When she took one of the bars and started scanning it multiple times, he stopped her and told her to scan them each individually to prevent any electrical infetterence, and then turned around and winked at me. I dont even think thats a word. After she scanned each bar and put them in a bag and started to say the price, he kept interrupting her by yawning really loudly.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

I've started to play craps. When everyone's betting the pass line, it's some of the most fun I've had in a casino. My first time I turned $100 into $290.

As for Blackjack, the nicer the casino was for me in Vegas, the worse I did at the blackjack tables. Did awful at Rio, Luxor, etc. but for some reason cleaned house at Circus Circus.

How much are you willing to spend on gambling? Think of that number and double it. That's your real number
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

boxington posted...

when ICE comes to take Flacka and the other Hispanic inmates that were released?

if so, then yea.

I'm thinking he means the results of Taystee's trial. But ICE was fucked up too.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

WaterLink posted...

Good update. But honestly,

E) just take the boat like nothing happened and take it to Mills. These worldly ideals mean nothing to a dead person like you.

Thanks!

And your E is basically what I intended D to be. I might not have worded it as clearly as I could have.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Master of None
Parks and Recreation
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

"Aw beans!" you exclaim as Ed's blood begins to puddle on the floor of his houseboat.
"Is everything alright?" you hear a voice call from the dock. You take a step back and see Marge on the dock. "I just came to make sure you found the place."
"That's so sweet! I'm so glad you're here," you tell her.
"So what's going on?" she asks. "Where's Ed?"
"Oh right! I really did it this time, Marge. You'll never believe it. I just did a murder!" you notify her.
"A- a murder?!" she blurts out.
"Yeah, unfortunately that's the case. I murdered Ed Zeller with this," you show Marge the bloody hammer. "Aw beans, Marge. What a pickle!"
Marge takes off screaming down the docks in her beautiful teal crocs.

What do you do?

A) Try another boat. Maybe the next inhabitant will be more agreeable.
B) Find Eric Zeller and explain that you've murdered his father. He sounds much more understanding now.
C) Bring Ed's body to Mills for resurrection.
D) Go to the cave without Ed and explain you've acquired a vessel.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

"Oh, I see," she smiles. "Very realistic! It's amazing what they can do these days."
"Oh isn't it?" you agree cheerfully. "What is your name?"
"Marge," she answers.
"Marge, where did you get those teal crocs?" you motion to her feet. "Teal is my favorite color and crocs have always looked so comfortable. Are they as comfortable as they look?"
"Y-yes, they are!" she nods excitedly. "I got them at Marshall's."
"And what is that scent you're wearing? It suits you so well," you compliment.
"Well I just rubbed all the samples in the Marshall's catalogue on me," she tells you.
You inhale again. "Well it's delightful. Do that every day, Marge. Every sample in the Marshall's catalogue is your new perfume."
Marge smiles meekly. "You are very kind."
You put a hand on her shoulder. "Marge, do you know where I can find Mr. Zeller's houseboat? I'm a friend of his son's and Jason Burnett told me I might be able to find him here," you say absentmindedly.
"Ooh you mean Ed," Marge recognizes the name. "Take your first left, walk until you get to your third right, then his boat will be the last on the right of the dock."

You thank Marge and follow her instructions to Mr. Zeller's boat. He doesn't seem to be awake yet. You try to sneakily board his boat without his knowledge. You slowly step one leg over the side of his home, but trip when trying to bring the second over and make a hard fall onto his floor. The old man comes bustling out from his bedroom in his pajamas and shouts, "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
You pick yourself up off the floor. "Sorry for the startle. These dead legs of mine aren't as coordinated as I'd like 'em to be."
"Well why don't you go ahead and flop back onto the dock?" Ed orders.
"Maybe in a minute, Ed. I got an offer you can't refuse," you tell him, still holding the hammer in your right hand. "I need you to give me and my master a ride."
"A ride? A ride to where?" he asks.
"I don't know. Someplace nautical."
"And who is your master?"
"I don't know. Some kid who calls himself Mills."
"So you want me to let you, a rotting corpse, and some kid into my home and take you to a place that you have no idea where it is," Ed makes sure he has all the available details.
"That's right," you confirm.
Ed adjusts his glasses. "Why would I ever agree to this?"
"Well, your son was pretty mean in high school. He was a real... bastard! Threatened to kill my dad and all. So I figured I'd find his dad, you can probably figure out the rest," you conclude.
Ed sighs deeply. "Look, I know Eric was difficult to be around in his younger days, but he's a lot better now if that means anything to you."
"It does not."
"Well I'm not taking you anywhere," Ed informs you.
"But I have a hammer," you argue.
"Well, I have a phone," Ed says as he takes his cell phone out of his pajama pocket. "And I'm calling the police."

"Geez Louise" you say disappointed. You suppose it's time to put this hammer to good use. Maybe Ed will become more reasonable after he takes a hammer bop to the shoulder. You take a step forward and swing the hammer with your clumsy, floppy arm at Ed Zeller's shoulder. Seeing the strike coming, Ed tries to duck it, but ends up taking the face of the hammer to the temple, caving in his skull and killing him instantly.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

"I hear that," you nod in agreement.
"And if it weren't enough to have my boss up my ass at work, my wife jumps up my ass at home. Get this, last week she..." Jason trails off and looks away. "Ah it's not important."
"Tell me about it," you continue to riff about poor management. "My boss just won't listen to reason."
"You have a boss?" Jason asks. "But you're dead."
You try your hand at construction worker etiquette. "Yeah, it's this thirteen year old who unearthed my coffin and is so far up my bum, I can feel him in my throat."
"Eh," Jason winces, first for the underage bum comments, then because he looks like he's trying to summon the courage to bring something up.
"You alright Jason?"
"Yeah, yeah. It's just..." he takes off his hardhat and wipes some sweat from his brow. "Have you been to see Carrie yet?"
"Not yet," you tell him. "I've only been alive for a few hours."
"Really? I feel like if I died and came back to life, that'd be the first place I'd go."
"You'd go to see my wife?" you quiz him. "That's a little weird."
"No, I'd go to see my wife, dumbass. You know what I meant," he scolds you.
"How's she doing?" you ask him.
Jason bites his lip and shakes his head. "Last I heard, not so good. You left her pretty high and dry, yeah?"
"Yeah," you try to force a frown, but find how hard it is a little amusing and quickly have to stifle a laugh. Before Jason notices, you try to talk through the giggles. "I'll- I'll go see her after the job is done. Maybe. I don't know how long this is gonna take."
"What does this kid even have you doing?"
"He wants me to steal a yacht," you announce happily.
"Hmm," Jason rubs his chin. "Well it's not a yacht, but Eric Zeller's dad owns a houseboat down in the marina. Would that work?"
"It might," you think out loud. "Me killing his dad would kinda bring the Eric Zeller situation full circle too."
"Wait, did Eric actually kill your dad?" Jason asks confused.
"No, pancreatic cancer did. Although, Eric never did say how he was going to kill my dad-"
Jason shakes his head vigorously. "I don't think Eric gave your dad pancreatic cancer, Rosen."
"Ah, you're probably right. Might have to kill his dad anyway though," you declare.
"I thought you just needed his boat," Jason says concerned.
"Exactly. I need his boat, I don't really need him." You pat Jason on the arm and laugh. "Let's hope he behaves, huh? Can I get that hammer?"
"Uh, um..." Jason stutters as you grab the hammer from his grasp.
"Thanks, Jason."
"Aw fuck, my fingerprints are like all over that thing," Jason sighs.
"Don't worry, I'll say stole it from the site," you gleefully soothe his apprehension. "You better go back to work and beef up that alibi though. You're on the clock, Jason. So am I. It was great to see you!"
"No, maybe you shouldn't- oh shit," is all you can hear Jason say before the rest becomes incomprehensible mumbles. You see Jason's shoulders slouch as he pulls his hardhat over his face and crosses the street.

You have a hammer. You reach the marina and stand at the start of the docks. You quickly stop the first person you see, a shorter pudgy woman with gray curly hair who gasps at the sight of you.
You laugh and point at your face. "Oh this? I'm sorry, I know I must startle people. I'm an extra in a zombie movie. We were filming late last night and I have to be back on set in a couple hours, so I just decided to leave the make-up on," you explain.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

C) Find a blunt object for bashing.

"I guess I better find something a beat someone to a pulp with," you shrug.
"That's the spirit," Jenna cheers. "Are you sure you don't want to use a gun?"
You shake your head. "I don't have a gun license."
"I don't think you need to worry about the law anymore now that you're dead," Jenna tells you. "Plus, getting held up about a gun charge when you're already prepared to commit murder is a little silly."
"I don't even know where to get a gun."
"You want a gun? I can get you a gun," she offers.
"No, you've done enough. Planting the idea of murder in my head was already a greater gift than I could have hoped for from a complete stranger," you smile. "I hope you burn the Beta Alpha Delta house to the friccin' ground."
"Thanks, Slim. Good luck." Jenna stands up, walks over, and gives you a short hug. "You smell really bad."
"I was in the ground," you announce joyfully.

You resume your whistling as you head to the marina. You look to your right and see a construction site that's been isolated by traffic cones and caution tape. Probably some good stuff for bashing yacht captains in there. As you take a step into the street a man in a white hardhat sprints out of the site and start charging you with a hammer raised in the air. "Die zombie!"
You back onto the sidewalk with your arms held out and say, "No no no, don't! I'm not a zombie!"
The man stops dead in his tracks in the middle of the street and puts his hands on his knees. "Oh thank God. I drew the short straw, I don't know how to fight zombies."
Now that he's calmed down, you can tell him the truth. "I lied just then, I... I am a zombie," you confess.
"Aaaaaah!" As he raises the hammer again, you actually recognize him.
"Nonono! Wait! I know you!" you plead.
He lowers the hammer a second time. "You do?"
"Jason! Jason Burnett! We went to high school together, man."
A pained moment of realization comes over Jason's face. "Rosen?"
You nod.
"I thought you died two months ago," he says.
"I did," you hold your hand out as you see Jason's hammer arm flinch. "I'm just back for a bit is all. I don't want to bite anyone. Nothing like that."
He cocks his head as he catches his breath and asks, "Does biting actually turn other people into zombies?"
"I don't know, I haven't done it yet," you answer. "I gotta admit I'm a little curious though."
Sensing your gaze upon his meaty forearms, Jason suggests, "You know who you should bite? Eric Zeller from high school. 'Member him?"
"God I effing hated that guy."
"He used to tape razor blades to the bottom of his shoes so he could pop all the soccer and kickballs during gym class. Made fun of the special needs kids all the time. What an asshole," Jason reams the former high school bully.
"Once during a food fight, the chem teacher gave him a detention for throwing an open carton of milk across the cafeteria and he threatened to kill him," you recall.
Jason raises an eyebrow. "Wasn't that chem teacher Mr. Rosen? Your dad?"
"Oooh, that's right," you scratch your head. "Eric Zeller definitely threatened to kill my dad."

A portly man steps out from behind a barricade across the street. "Ay! You kill the zombie yet?"
"It's not a zombie!" Jason shouts back. "It's just my buddy Rosen from high school!"
"Well you can talk to your creepy looking friend on your own time! Time to get back to work," the foreman calls to Jason before heading back on site.
"Goooood, my boss is such a dick," Jason whispers.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

DarthAragorn posted...

HotLap posted...

Get John Ross. All you need in Madden is speed baby.

Tempting, but I'm a Chiefs fan and they're in really good shape at WR already, and have Tyreek Hill who's even faster

I'll think about it for sure though

Haha I did a fantasy draft with my roommate and the three WRs I picked first were Ross, Hill, and Chris Conley who I think had like 93 speed last year and a ridiculous 97 jumping. Lost a lot of fumbles trying to hurdle people with Chris Conley but it was all worth it when it actually happened.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

I work from home forever.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Get John Ross. All you need in Madden is speed baby.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

I like videogamedunkey.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Brooklyn Nine Nine
BoJack Horseman
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Atlanta
Silicon Valley
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Is that the floppy bepis game?
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

New Girl
Silicon Valley
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Sorry, time really got away from me tonight. Tomorrow for sure.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Brooklyn Nine-Nine
Master of None
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

frogman_295 posted...

masterbarf posted...

You forgot the "ing" you simple man-child.

I'm going to suffocate you with my moobsing.

FTFY
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Error1355 posted...

I was at a hotel in Boston before for PAX and when I flushed the toilet the first time I was there it overflowed.

That's my city <3.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Kisai posted...

This topic has thoroughly grossed me out.

Poop on this guy.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Poop on top of the clog. Piss in this shower.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

No lie, Serena Williams is the world's hottest person to me.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Atlanta
The Good Place
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Brooklyn Nine-Nine
Silicon Valley
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.