John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,867
- 31,707
Useless Thread MCMXCIX: Miss Piggy Appreciation Thread
- Thread starter GIADF
- Start date
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,867
- 31,707
@H3ckt1k you excited for the new characters for rivals
you know damn well i'm going to main invisible woman lol
you know damn well i'm going to main invisible woman lol
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,867
- 31,707
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,867
- 31,707
circa sports book
Rake is the scaled commission fee taken by a cardroom operating a poker game. It is generally 2.5% to 10% of the pot in each poker hand, up to a predetermined maximum amount.[1] There are also other non-percentage ways for a casino to take the rake.[citation needed]
Rake is the scaled commission fee taken by a cardroom operating a poker game. It is generally 2.5% to 10% of the pot in each poker hand, up to a predetermined maximum amount.[1] There are also other non-percentage ways for a casino to take the rake.[citation needed]
Sega Dreamcast
party like it's 1999
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,867
- 31,707
I've just been sitting here all day watching degenerates talk about card counting and blackjack and poker
"Shouldn't you be working"
well yeah it's on in the background while I'm working
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,867
- 31,707
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,867
- 31,707
Miami Marlins keep their hands in their pockets as only team in MLB to spend no money this off season
While the Los Angeles Dodgers are dazzling fans by going over a billion dollars into debt, one team on the opposite side of the country goes a different way
en.as.com
GIADF
Not A Mod
- Aug 17, 2024
- 2,636
- 3,021
Need a cap for JP posts too tbh.
End of Line
Sic Semper Tyrannis
- Mar 20, 2009
- 28,933
- 6,604
Don’t have any.
I did buy/eat another hot venison salami log around this past Xmas time though.
End of Line
Sic Semper Tyrannis
- Mar 20, 2009
- 28,933
- 6,604
Don’t have any.
I did buy/eat another hot venison salami log around this past Xmas time though.
Sounds delicious. I’m out of ground venison as well
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,867
- 31,707
SoupNazi
Keeps paying for Hangman’s OF to get promoted
- Feb 6, 2010
- 27,426
- 18,046
The Plushie Scandal
The tropical island escapade was supposed to cement Brenda and John’s dominance. Between the lasagna-fueled parade and their bizarre bikini stunts, it seemed like nothing could stop their plushie empire. But beneath the surface of their unsettling partnership, trouble was brewing.
It all started one evening when Brenda decided to drop by John’s room at the budget motel they’d chosen as their plushie headquarters. She had whipped up another lasagna—this time a “celebratory batch” to mark what she thought was the ultimate victory: her recent post on HFBoards about the tropical success had hit 1,000 likes.
“John!” Brenda called, knocking on the door. “Open up, sweetie! I’ve got lasagna!”
There was no response.
Brenda frowned, her maternal instincts tingling with suspicion. John never ignored lasagna. She pressed her ear to the door, hearing muffled sounds—something like giggling and the occasional squeak.
“John, are you in there?” she asked, louder this time.
Still nothing. Brenda’s patience wore thin. She jiggled the handle (John, predictably, never locked his door), pushed it open, and stepped inside.
The scene that greeted her would forever alter the course of the plushie revolution.
The room was a disaster zone: plushies strewn across the floor, tangled sheets on the bed, and—most damning of all—John, shirtless and sweaty, holding Waddles the penguin in a disturbingly intimate position.
He froze mid-hump, his face a mix of panic and guilt.
“Mom!” he yelped, scrambling to cover himself with a nearby throw blanket adorned with cartoon bears.
Brenda’s lasagna dish slipped from her hands, landing on the carpet with a splat. Her face twisted in a mix of horror, disappointment, and rage. “John. Price. What in the name of all that is holy are you doing?!”
John stammered, clutching Waddles like a lifeline. “It’s not what it looks like!”
“Oh, it’s exactly what it looks like!” Brenda snapped, stepping over the lasagna without a second thought. “You’re defiling Waddles! That poor penguin has been through enough!”
“It’s… it’s stress relief!” John protested. “You don’t understand the pressure I’m under! HFBoards demands so much from me, and the plushies… they’re comforting!”
“Comforting?!” Brenda’s voice reached a pitch that could shatter glass. “You’ve turned them into victims! My lasagna built this movement, and you’re out here ruining everything with your… your perversions!”
Brenda spent the next twenty minutes pacing the room, ranting about the integrity of the plushie movement while John cowered on the bed, Waddles still clutched to his chest.
“This was supposed to be about spreading joy and unity!” she shouted. “Not whatever… whatever this is!” She gestured wildly at the plushies, many of which now seemed to stare at her with judgmental button eyes.
John sniffled. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”
“Well, I did!” Brenda shot back. “And now we’ve got a crisis on our hands. What happens when the HFBoards crowd finds out their ‘PlushieMaster’ is a… a plushie humper?!”
John flinched at the term. “They won’t find out. I’ll stop, I promise!”
Brenda narrowed her eyes. “Oh, you’re stopping, all right. But we need damage control. This can’t get out, do you hear me?”
The next day, Brenda was back on HFBoards, posting furiously to distract from any potential leaks.
BrendaLasagnaQueen:
But the plushies in his room? They weren’t so lucky. Under Brenda’s watchful eye, every single one of them was packed into a garbage bag and sent to the nearest donation center.
“Out with the old, in with the new,” Brenda declared as she tied the bag shut. “You’ve lost your plushie privileges, John. From now on, you stick to lasagna.”
For a while, it seemed like Brenda’s strict intervention might keep things under control. But deep down, she knew the truth: no lasagna, no matter how perfectly spiced, could erase the memory of what she’d seen.
As for John, he swore he was reformed. But late at night, in the privacy of his now-plushie-free room, he couldn’t help but long for the soft, judgment-free embrace of Waddles.
The plushie revolution might have survived the tropical island scandal, but this? This was a secret that could destroy them all.
The tropical island escapade was supposed to cement Brenda and John’s dominance. Between the lasagna-fueled parade and their bizarre bikini stunts, it seemed like nothing could stop their plushie empire. But beneath the surface of their unsettling partnership, trouble was brewing.
It all started one evening when Brenda decided to drop by John’s room at the budget motel they’d chosen as their plushie headquarters. She had whipped up another lasagna—this time a “celebratory batch” to mark what she thought was the ultimate victory: her recent post on HFBoards about the tropical success had hit 1,000 likes.
“John!” Brenda called, knocking on the door. “Open up, sweetie! I’ve got lasagna!”
There was no response.
Brenda frowned, her maternal instincts tingling with suspicion. John never ignored lasagna. She pressed her ear to the door, hearing muffled sounds—something like giggling and the occasional squeak.
“John, are you in there?” she asked, louder this time.
Still nothing. Brenda’s patience wore thin. She jiggled the handle (John, predictably, never locked his door), pushed it open, and stepped inside.
The scene that greeted her would forever alter the course of the plushie revolution.
The room was a disaster zone: plushies strewn across the floor, tangled sheets on the bed, and—most damning of all—John, shirtless and sweaty, holding Waddles the penguin in a disturbingly intimate position.
He froze mid-hump, his face a mix of panic and guilt.
“Mom!” he yelped, scrambling to cover himself with a nearby throw blanket adorned with cartoon bears.
Brenda’s lasagna dish slipped from her hands, landing on the carpet with a splat. Her face twisted in a mix of horror, disappointment, and rage. “John. Price. What in the name of all that is holy are you doing?!”
John stammered, clutching Waddles like a lifeline. “It’s not what it looks like!”
“Oh, it’s exactly what it looks like!” Brenda snapped, stepping over the lasagna without a second thought. “You’re defiling Waddles! That poor penguin has been through enough!”
“It’s… it’s stress relief!” John protested. “You don’t understand the pressure I’m under! HFBoards demands so much from me, and the plushies… they’re comforting!”
“Comforting?!” Brenda’s voice reached a pitch that could shatter glass. “You’ve turned them into victims! My lasagna built this movement, and you’re out here ruining everything with your… your perversions!”
Brenda spent the next twenty minutes pacing the room, ranting about the integrity of the plushie movement while John cowered on the bed, Waddles still clutched to his chest.
“This was supposed to be about spreading joy and unity!” she shouted. “Not whatever… whatever this is!” She gestured wildly at the plushies, many of which now seemed to stare at her with judgmental button eyes.
John sniffled. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”
“Well, I did!” Brenda shot back. “And now we’ve got a crisis on our hands. What happens when the HFBoards crowd finds out their ‘PlushieMaster’ is a… a plushie humper?!”
John flinched at the term. “They won’t find out. I’ll stop, I promise!”
Brenda narrowed her eyes. “Oh, you’re stopping, all right. But we need damage control. This can’t get out, do you hear me?”
The next day, Brenda was back on HFBoards, posting furiously to distract from any potential leaks.
BrendaLasagnaQueen:
Meanwhile, John stayed off the forums entirely, too mortified to face the community.
But the plushies in his room? They weren’t so lucky. Under Brenda’s watchful eye, every single one of them was packed into a garbage bag and sent to the nearest donation center.
“Out with the old, in with the new,” Brenda declared as she tied the bag shut. “You’ve lost your plushie privileges, John. From now on, you stick to lasagna.”
For a while, it seemed like Brenda’s strict intervention might keep things under control. But deep down, she knew the truth: no lasagna, no matter how perfectly spiced, could erase the memory of what she’d seen.
As for John, he swore he was reformed. But late at night, in the privacy of his now-plushie-free room, he couldn’t help but long for the soft, judgment-free embrace of Waddles.
The plushie revolution might have survived the tropical island scandal, but this? This was a secret that could destroy them all.
PanthersPens62
Paul & Stanley
Sega Dreamcast
party like it's 1999
Hood Morning @MetalheadPenguinsFan !!!
Hood morning to you my smiley and Love-reaction filled friend
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,867
- 31,707
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,867
- 31,707
Source: Cowboys deny Bears' McCarthy request
The Cowboys have denied permission to the Bears to interview coach Mike McCarthy, a source told ESPN's Adam Schefter on Tuesday.
John Price
pro gambler/drinker
- Sep 19, 2008
- 387,867
- 31,707
Redick says family evacuated due to L.A. wildfires
Lakers coach JJ Redick called attention to the wildfires in the Pacific Palisades, saying his family was among those forced to evacuate.
