Phins Is A Crispy Kracker!
03-10-2003, 12:00 PM
#12
Administrator
Thread Starter
Join Date: Jul 2001
Location: Stuart, FL
Posts: 24,416
Yea we decided to walk into town in the middle of the afternoon in July in San Jose Del Cabo, MX. Got to town, our feet hurt a little no big deal, got drunk, didn't notice it, woke up in the morning to the tops of my feet blistered and MAN did that **** hurt.
03-10-2003, 12:22 PM
#19
Senior Member
Join Date: May 2002
Location: California
Posts: 22,465
DR. EVIL
The details of my life are quite inconsequential.
THERAPIST
That's not true, Doctor. Please, tell us about your childhood.
GROUP
Yes, of course. Go ahead, etc.
DR. EVIL
Very well, where should I begin? My father was a relentlessly
self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and
a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen-year-old French prostitute
named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he
would make outrageous claims, like he invented the question mark. Sometimes
he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. A sort of general malaise that
only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical.
Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. If
I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds. Pretty
standard, really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the
age of fifteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my
*********. There really is nothing like a shawn *******. At the age of
eighteen, I went off to evil medical school. From there...
ANGLE ON THE THERAPIST AND THE GROUP. They are stunned.
The details of my life are quite inconsequential.
THERAPIST
That's not true, Doctor. Please, tell us about your childhood.
GROUP
Yes, of course. Go ahead, etc.
DR. EVIL
Very well, where should I begin? My father was a relentlessly
self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and
a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen-year-old French prostitute
named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he
would make outrageous claims, like he invented the question mark. Sometimes
he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. A sort of general malaise that
only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical.
Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. If
I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds. Pretty
standard, really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the
age of fifteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my
*********. There really is nothing like a shawn *******. At the age of
eighteen, I went off to evil medical school. From there...
ANGLE ON THE THERAPIST AND THE GROUP. They are stunned.
