My mission to 1000

[Guest DJ Jeff]

What's up, Scott?

Hey, yo, Kev. B)

[Guest LexLugerRules]

HEY!

[Guest El Psycho Diablo]

Hmm..

 

Scott, Kev..

 

*eyes nWoish signatures*

 

...GAH!...

[Guest treble charged]

Looking at posts from earlier today, I realized I started a HORRIBLE trend with Lil' Bow Wow making appearances in 'monumental' posts.

 

I am a legend, and didn't even know it.

[Guest The Ruthless Aggressor]

You sure are.

[Guest Shaved Bear]

yep thanks TC

[Guest The Ruthless Aggressor]

You don't really mark for spear boy, do you?

[Guest LexLugerRules]

Do you guys like my new banner?

[Guest The Ruthless Aggressor]

Not particularly, Tyson sucks.

[Guest LexLugerRules]

It's not Tyson...

 

It's Bernard Hopkins...

[Guest The Ruthless Aggressor]

They pretty much look the same, excuse me for my mistake.

[Guest Incandenza]

Christmas Card from a Hooker in Minneapolis

 

(Tom Waits)

 

hey charlie i'm pregnant

and living on the 9th street

right above a dirty bookstore

off euclid avenue

and i stopped takin dope

and i quit drinkin whiskey

and my old man plays the trombone

and works out at the track

 

and he says that he loves me

even though its not his baby

and he says that he'll raise him up

like he would his own son

and he gave me a ring

that was worn by his mother

and he takes me out dancin

every saturday night.

 

and hey charlie i think about you

everytime i pass a fillin station

om account of all the grease

you used to wear in your hair

and i still have that record

of little anthony & the imperials

but someone stole my record player

now how do you like that?

 

hey charlie i almost went crazy

after mario got busted

so i went back to omaha to

live with my folks

but everyone i used to know

was either dead or in prison

so i came back to minneapolis

this time i think i'm gonna stay.

 

hey charlie i think i'm happy

for the first time since my accident

and i wish i had all the money

that we used to spend on dope

i'd buy me a used car lot

and i wouldn't sell any of em

i'd just drive a different car

every day, dependin on how

i feel

 

hey charlie for chrissakes

do you want to know the

truth of it?

i don't have a husband

he don't play the trombone

and i need to borrow money

to pay this lawyer

and charlie, hey

i'll be eligible for parole

come valentines day

[Guest eiker_ir]

hi

[Guest Incandenza]

no joy in mudville

 

(Death Cab for Cutie)

 

last night i dreamt that i was you. i was dressed all in black with dark glasses and attitude. such a pose i could simply not hold through days in a northern town that i had once called a home. your studies for fringe new york streets: i was reading the pavement in every work you would speak. to a "brownstone up three flights of stairs" and it's on...

buying drinks for the poets upstate, this southern corrupting towed you down the interstate, and they all said that you were the king of gloomy disruption that surfaced when you would speak. this town simply cannot compete so i'm packing my Bullets and Silverstones and heading east to a "brownstone up three flights of stairs" and it's on...

if i could have (had) my way this year would bridge '66 (again?)

trust fund hipsters were casing the room chock full of amphetamines. the overturned kick drum book set the pace with incomparable cool.

and if the tempo was lousy it was lost on all but you...

[Guest DJ Jeff]

Let's talk music.

 

Default....

 

Aye or nay.

[Guest treble charged]

I like Default.

[Guest Incandenza]

I don't like Default. But here's some Velvet Underground, thus completing the trilogy I was working on:

 

The Gift

 

Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit.

It was now Mid-August which meant that he had been separated from Marsha for more than two months. Two months, and all he had to show was three dog-eared

letters and two when school had ended and she'd returned to Wisconsin, and he to Locust, Pennsylvania. She had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity, she would

date occasionally, but only as amusement. But lately Waldo had begun to worry. He had trouble sleeping at night and when he did, he had horrible dreams. He lay

awake at night, tossing and turning underneath his quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes. As he pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the

smooth soothing of some neanderthal, finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion. It was more than the human mind could bear.

 

Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him. Daytime fantasies of sexual abandon permeated his thoughts. And the thing was they wouldn't really understand how

she really was. He, Waldo, alone, understood this. He had intuitively grasped every nook and cranny of her psyche. He had made her smile, and she needed him,

and he wasn't there. The idea came to him on the Thursday before the Mummers Parade was scheduled to appear. He had just finished mowing and etching the

Edelsons lawn for a dollar fifty and had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from Marsha. There was nothing more than a circular form the

Amalgamated Aluminum Company of America inquiring into his awing needs. At least they cared enough to write.

 

It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in the mail. Then it struck him, he didn't have enough money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion, true,

but why not mail himself? It was absurdly simple. He would ship himself parcel post special delivery. The next day Waldo went to the supermarket to purchase the

necessary equipment. He bought masking tape, a staple gun and a medium sized box, just right for a person of his built. He judged that with a minimum of jostling he

could ride quite comfortably. A few airholes, some water, of course, midnight snacks and it would probably be as good as going tourist.

 

By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was packed and the post office had agreed to pick him up at three o'clock. He'd marked the package "Fragile", and as he

sat curled up inside, resting the foam rubber cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he tried to picture the look of awe and happiness on Marshas face as she opened

the door, saw the package, tipped the deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldo finally there in person. She would kiss him, then, maybe they could see a

movie. If he'd only thought of this before. Suddenly rough hands gripped his package and he felt himself barne up. He landed with a thud in a truck and then he was

off.

 

Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It had been a very rough weekend. She had to remember not to drink like that. Bill had been nice about it though.

After it was over he'd said that he still respected her and, after all, it was certainly the way of nature, and even though, no he didn't love her, he did feel an affection

for her. And, after all, they were grown adults. Oh, what Billy could teach Waldo - but that seemed like years ago. Sheila Klein, her very, very best friend walked in

through the porch screen door and into the kitchen. "Oh, it's absolutely maudlin outside." "Ach, I know what you mean, I feel all icky!" Marsha tightened her cotton

robe with the silk outer edge. Sheila ran her finger over some salt grains on the kitchen table, licked her fingers and made a face. "I'm supposed to take these salt

pills," but she wrinkled her nose, "They make me feel like throwing up." Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an exercise she'd seen on television. "God, don't

even talk about that." She got up from the table and went to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and blue vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better than

steak." And attempted to touch her knees. "I don't think I'll ever touch a daiquiri again." She gave up and sat down, this time nearer the table that supported the

telephone. "Maybe he'll call." she said to Sheila's glance. Sheila nibbled on a cuticle. "After last night, I thought maybe you'd be through with him." "I know what you

mean, my God, he was like an octopus. Hands all over the place." She gestured, raising her arms upwards in defense. "The thing is after a while, you get tired of

fighting with him, you know, and after all he didn't really do anything Friday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him, you know what I mean." She started to

scratch. Sheila was giggling with her hand over her mouth. "I'll tell you, I feel the same way, and even after a while," here she bend forward in a whisper, "wanted to,"

and now she was laughing very loudly.

 

It was at this point that Mr. Jameison of the Clarence Darrow Post Office rang the door bell of the large colored stucco frame house. When Marsha Bronson

opened the door, he helped her carry the package in. He had his yellow and green slips of paper signed and left with a fifteen cent tip that Marsha had gotten out of

her mothers small beige pocket book in the den. "What do you think it is?" Sheila asked. Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back. She stared at the

brown cardboard carton that sat in the middle of the living room: "I don't know."

 

Inside the package Waldo quivered with excitement as he listened to the muffled voices. Sheila ran her fingernail over the masking tape that ran down the center of

the carton. "Why don't you look at the return address and see who it is from?" Waldo felt his heart beating. He could feel the vibrating footsteps. It would be soon.

 

Marsha walked around the carton and read the ink-scratched label. "It's from Waldo." "That schmuck!" said Sheila. Waldo trembled with expectation. "You might

as well open it," said Sheila. Both of them tried to flip the stable flap. "Ah," said Marsha groaning. "He must have nailed it shut." They tagged at the flap again. "My

God, you need a power drill to get this thing opened." They pulled again. "You can't get a grip!" They both stood still, breathing heavily. "Why don't you get the

scissors," said Sheila. Marsha ran into the kitchen, but all she could find was a little sewing scissors. Then she remembered that her father kept a collection of tools in

the basement. She ran downstairs and when she came back, she had a large metal cutter in her hand. "This is the best I could find." She was out of breath. "Here,

you do it. I'm gonna die." She sank into a large fluffy couch and exhaled noisily. Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape and the end of the cardboard,

but the blade was too big and there was not enough room. "Godamn this thing!" she said feeling very exasperated. Then smiling "I got an idea." "What?" said

Marsha. "Just watch," said Sheila touching her finger to her head.

 

Inside the package, Waldo was transfixed with excitement that he could hardly breathe. His skin felt prickly from the heat and he could feel his heart beating in his

throat. It would be soon. Sheila stood upright and walked around to the other side of the package. Then she sank down to her knees, grasped the cutter by both

hands, took a deep breath and plunged the long blade through the middle of the package, through the middle of the masking tape, through the cardboard through

the cushioning and (thud) right through the center of Waldo Jeffers head, which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs of red to pulsate gently in the morning

sun...

[Guest LexLugerRules]

Life sucks eh?

[Guest The Amazing Rando]

i loved my Lil Bow Wow post

[Guest Flyboy]

And an announcement: Thanks to everyone, there's now over 7 gigs of wrestling content on the server. Woah.

Damn 7 gigs? Cool! B)

[Guest LexLugerRules]

I love Ryan Starr, flyboy.

[Guest The Amazing Rando]

When Ryan Starr got the axe....I thought Flyboy was gonna go on a homicidal rampage

[Guest MarvinisaLunatic]

Hmm. I didnt diss Lil Bow Wow in my 2000th post, I dissed HHH. How original am I ?

(coming from someone who doesn't diss HHH a whole lot)

 

THE GAME STOPS FOR NO ONE

[Guest The Amazing Rando]

my 2000th post was in a RAW thread...so I have no idea who I dissed...but it wasn't Lil Bow Wow...

 

I guess post 2K isn't very important to the Lil Bow Wow Haters

[Guest The Amazing Rando]

*rocks and rolls all night and parties ev-er-y day*

[Guest The Camel]

*extreme boredome sets in*

[Guest MarvinisaLunatic]

I just finished watching smackdown, and does it ever S U C K.

 

So much so, that Im erasing the fact that I watched it and never speaking of those 2 hours again.

[Guest The Camel]

that bad eh? Makes me giddy....

[Guest The Amazing Rando]

good job Marvin!

[Guest The Amazing Rando]

20 more pages!