poof... you're in a dark bar, one hand outstretched to call for a heineken. you accidently hit a 300 pound guy with a shaved head and more tatoos than smart asses on this board. he grabs you, growls with fetid breath into your face, turns you over, rips your pants off, tears your underwear away while pounding you in the face with the table.

Then he grabs his unopened heineken...and gives it to you in yours.

I wish I was as creative as you guys.

Pie's boss is darclauz. Upon realizing that his idea won't work, darclauz wishes for the creativity of everyone else on the cellar. He starts writing bad poetry, diatribes about politics and religion, and far more information about his sexual preferences than anyone ever asked to hear. However, the lumberjim-penned erotic fanfic about pie/darclauz quickly becomes an internet favorite, surpassing TiNP and IOTD in hitcount and garnering high marks from c|net. There is really no downside to any of this, other than LJ starts getting more spam than usual from a fisting site.

I wish I hadn't taken that cold medicine.

pie - your boss suddenly realizes that his idea won't work, blames you for it and fires you. all while writing up a huge change order for the client. the next thing you know you go for the World Record (SCF)

i wish that i were fishing right now.

scf on those last three guys! :lol2:

Zap! Plt is fishing, when suddenly a catfish of apocalyptic proportions leaps from the pond and swallows him whole. Sadly, it is only following his watery, smelly demise that the Astros win four straight to emerge victorious in the 2005 World Series.

I wish I had a Ritz.

POOF - here's your Ritz cracker, but on realizing you need something to top it with you go stir crazy and end up terrorizing a boutique

yeah. i WISH the astros could win just one world series game...

The Astros take it home! The Feebs, in as much amazement as the rest of the country, start suspecting fraud and investigate. One googler runs across plthijinx's wishes and starts to suspect. He traces plthijinx to a mob-run scam of fraud and corruption, and plthijinx ends up in a cell with a roommate named "bubba", who, coincidentally, is in there for shoving a heine up someone's hiney.

I wish I could hit the lottery and retire, and spend all my time posting on the Cellar.

Whew! thanks! I was afraid somebody would say that the condition of my scholarship was that I had to work for 10 years in Fresno to pay it off :p

darclauz hits the armored truck hauling the lottery cash. Unfortunately the exploding dye in the bags is permanent. You are filthy rich with purple money. Spend it and you'll have little else to do but post on the cellar when the man says you can.

I wish I had sharpened my saw last night so Grifftopia was easily accessable.

Oh but you did sharpen your saw last night, sharper than Wolf's wit, and as you negotiate access to Grifftopia with it you accidentally nick yourself with it. A very small, tiny nick to a very large, important artery. As your last few drops of blood spurt out of your now pale body, Grifftopia is fully and transcendentally revealled to you. You decide it isn't what it was cracked up to be.

I wish I could drink as much beer as I wanted with out getting drunk or fat or having that "bloated feeling" Also I wish my favorite beer was less expensive.

footfootfoot...runs across a salesalesale and buysbuysbuys. dumps the milk, dumps the unleaded. beer from foot's foot to foot's eyelashes, then settles down to drinkdrinkdrink. unable to feel any effects..no weight gain, no drunk, no bloat... footfootfoot continues to drinkdrinkdrink, until, in an unexpected twist, a bladder bursts all over footfootfoot's foot. last thought: hey... that's ironic.

i wish i knew whether foot was a boy or a girl. =)

footfootfoot has a cockcockcock. you do the math

i wish i knew if darclauz had ovaries

the painful burning in your rectum stands as a clear indication that darclauz in fact has a penis. a large one. with a piercing.

I wish I could find another Hammond B3 for sale.

You find a B3 in beautiful condition available from a widow lady who doesn't know what it's worth. She sells it to you cheap. While you and your buddies are hauling it to the truck you drop it... on your hands. The doctor who is trying to put your hands back together thinks you might be showing some signs of arthritis too.

I wish my memory was better.

(aside for the unmusical - the Hammond B3 organ produces a beautiful and unique tone. Really good for jazz and rock. They were out of production for quite some time, but Wikipedia says that Hammond has started making them again, so you might look for a new one, smooth.)

You have your wish! Your memory is so much better that in fact you remember everything you see, hear, or read. You remember all the lyrics to every Barry Manilow song ever written, all the 3 Stooges dialog, and the complete text of Myra Breckenridge. Soon your brain is so loaded that you are unable to sleep, you don't dare turn on the television because you will remember flawlessly everything you see, and you do not dare sign on to The Cellar because you now will remember every single word written by Urbane Guerrilla.



I wish my internet connection was DSL.

the new ones are for shite. i've already got a mid-60s B3, I'm looking for another one that I can chop up and turn into a road rig.