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Useless Thread MMI: Moscow Zoo membership card Appreciation Thread

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Dog of the Day:

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:heart: 🐕
 
  • Love
Reactions: MetalheadPenguinsFan
f***ing dumb ass shit ESPN taking MLR rights, nobody is going to pay 12.99 to watch rugby in America
 
John Price lifted the plushie off the ground in a giant bear hug, before putting him down. The plushie spoke into JP's ear as the two remained in a tight embrace. The two then came apart for a moment, staring into each other's eyes while keeping their hands on each other, before backing away for a brief moment in order to set up a proper handshake/bro-hug situation.

That bro hug led to the plushie speaking directly into JP's neck/ear area and saying, "I don't care how many egg rolls you eat."

JP laughed. The plushie smiled. They came apart. They came together. Plushie rested his face on JP's shoulder pads. JP grabbed the plushie's elbow. Then the interaction finally came to an end.

 
  • Haha
Reactions: MetalheadPenguinsFan, PanthersPens62 and John Price
X amount of money on the Chiefs is the easiest money make of all time

now how much am I willing to put into this. Me thinks it'll be higher than a dollar given it's the SB
 
End of Line said:
Christ this description is way too accurate :laugh:
Click to expand...

Pro tip: don’t ever fly in or out of SLC when they’re is a Young Living convention. You will want to die.

It gets so bad all the restaurants downtown will put signs on the door to not open the bottles inside when they’re have their conventions.
 
GIADF said:
Pro tip: don’t ever fly in or out of SLC when they’re is a Young Living convention. You will want to die.

It gets so bad all the restaurants downtown will put signs on the door to not open the bottles inside when they’re have their conventions.
Click to expand...

I honestly have no desire to ever visit Utah lol
 

Plushnikov Enterprises Expands​

Brenda was ecstatic.

“Business is booming!” she declared, standing in the middle of the new Hotel Plushnikov Gift Shop. The walls were covered in plushies—from standard Russian souvenirs like plush Matryoshka dolls to less traditional choices like a plushie of Karl Marx holding a bowl of borscht.

Juan had even contributed his own custom designs, including “General Freedom’s Battle Bear,” a plush grizzly wearing an army helmet, and “Tsar Snuggles,” a Nicholas II plushie with a removable head.

Hargrave, muttering to himself, was pacing by the cash register. “This is getting too big. The IRS, the FBI, Interpol—do you realize how many international agencies are probably tracking us at this point?”

Brenda waved him off. “Hargrave, you gotta think like a capitalist."

"I work for the government," he deadpanned.

"Exactly! You're already used to stealing money!” she chirped.

Juan, meanwhile, was hovering near the shop’s entrance, distracted. His beady little eyes had locked onto a large, intimidating man in a Russian military uniform.

Brenda followed his gaze. “Juan. Why are you staring at that guy like he’s a plate of lasagna?”

Juan’s Ticket to a Tank​

Juan suddenly snapped to attention. “I think that guy knows where I can get a tank.”

Hargrave sighed. “Juan, please, for the love of God, just let the tank dream die.”

But Juan was already marching forward like a man on a mission.

“Comrade!” Juan called out, grinning ear to ear. “I couldn't help but notice your macho military presence. You wouldn't happen to have any spare tanks lying around, would you?”

The Russian officer narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”

Juan stuck out his chest. “I am General Freedom, the North Korean Ambassador to Japan!”

The officer blinked. “That makes no sense.”

Juan nodded solemnly. “That’s what they all say.”

Brenda swooped in, charming as ever. “He’s a businessman, darling. An entrepreneur! We’re just looking for a way to expand our plushie empire. And what better way than a plushie tank?!”

The officer scratched his chin. “A plushie tank?”

Juan jumped in. “Yes! A real tank, but covered in plush! Imagine rolling through Red Square in a T-90 wrapped in adorable teddy bear fur!”

Hargrave slapped a hand over his face. “I need a drink.”

The Russian officer hesitated for a moment. Then, leaning in, he muttered, “Meet me at Lenin’s Tomb at midnight.”

Juan gasped. “Oh my God. It’s happening.”

The Plan Is Set​

As the officer walked off, Juan turned back to us, eyes wild with excitement.

Brenda clapped him on the back. “Big things are coming, mate."

Hargrave just groaned. “This is going to end with us all on trial in The Hague.”

Juan wasn’t listening. He was too busy daydreaming about his new plushie-covered tank.
 

The Birth of the Plushie Panzer​

The night was cold and eerie as we stood near Lenin’s Tomb. Juan was bouncing on his heels, whispering, “Tank. Tank. Tank.” under his breath like a lunatic.

Hargrave, arms crossed, muttered, “I should’ve quit the FBI when I had the chance.”

At exactly midnight, the Russian officer from earlier—who we now knew as Colonel Mikhailov—appeared from the shadows.

“You came alone?” Brenda asked.

Mikhailov smirked. “Of course not.”

From the darkness, the ground began to rumble. A massive T-90 battle tank rolled onto Red Square, its turret gleaming under the streetlights. But Juan wasn’t looking at the deadly weaponry. He was looking at the custom modifications.

The entire thing was covered in plush fabric.

From the fluffy pink camouflage pattern to the giant teddy bear ears attached to the sides, the Plushie Panzer was born. Instead of treads, the bottom was lined with stuffed animal paws, and the barrel of the main gun had been replaced with an oversized plush eagle head.

Juan gasped. “It’s beautiful.”

Brenda whistled. “Now that’s a ripper of a tank, mate.”

Hargrave shook his head. “This is a war crime waiting to happen.”

Juan ran up to the tank commander’s hatch, practically sobbing with joy. “I shall name you… the Snuggle Czar.”

Mikhailov folded his arms. “Do you want it or not?”

Juan didn’t even hesitate. “YES.”

Brenda, ever the negotiator, grinned. “We’ll take it—on one condition. Throw in some limited edition Putin plushiesfor the gift shop.”

Mikhailov nodded. “Deal.”

The Joyride​

Moments later, we were inside the tank.

Juan was at the controls, Brenda was laughing in the gunner’s seat, and Hargrave was clutching his seatbelt in terror.

“DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW TO DRIVE A TANK?!” Hargrave screamed.

“Nope!” Juan gunned the engine.

We roared through Moscow’s streets, the Plushie Panzer bouncing over cobblestone roads like a drunken parade float.Juan had no idea what any of the buttons did, so every time he pressed one, something exploded behind us.

Brenda giggled. “This is a real banger of a pinched log, mate!”

Juan cackled. “I AM GENERAL FREEDOM, AND THIS IS MY TANK!”

Muscovites fled in terror. Tourists took pictures. Hargrave was praying.

And then, as Russian police sirens blared in the distance, Brenda made a suggestion that changed everything.

“Back to the factory!”

Juan swung the turret around and floored it toward the Plushnikov Plushie Factory, our home base in Russia.

Back at the Factory​

We crashed through the front gates, knocking over a giant teddy bear statue in the process.

The factory workers, already used to our nonsense, barely blinked as Juan parked the Snuggle Czar in the middle of the production floor.

Brenda hopped out and stretched. “Right! We’re gonna mass-produce plushie tanks and take over the toy market!”

Juan patted the Snuggle Czar lovingly. “We’ll start by making plushie versions of this baby. Every kid should have a tank.”

Hargrave groaned. “I give it a week before the Russian government hunts us down.”

Juan grinned. “Then we’ll just sell plushies to them too.”

Brenda cackled. “We’re gonna be filthy rich!”

As sirens wailed in the distance, Juan struck a heroic pose on top of his plushie-wrapped tank and declared:

“The age of Plushnikov has begun!”
 

A Presidential Visit​

The Plushnikov Plushie Factory was abuzz with activity. Workers stitched, stuffed, and packaged plushies at a frenetic pace, preparing for the grand unveiling of the Snuggle Czar—Juan's plushie-covered tank. The factory floor was a sea of colors, with plush bears, rabbits, and even plush tanks lining the shelves.

Suddenly, the factory doors swung open, and in walked two of the most recognizable figures in global politics: Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to the unexpected guests.

Brenda, ever the opportunist, approached them with a wide smile. "Welcome to Plushnikov Enterprises! What brings you gentlemen to our humble factory?"

Trump, adjusting his tie, replied, "I've heard tremendous things about this place. Absolutely tremendous. They say you've got the best plushies, maybe ever. And this tank—it's something special."

Putin nodded in agreement. "Da, I am intrigued by this... Snuggle Czar. A tank that brings comfort—it's a novel concept."

The Snuggle Czar Unveiled​

Juan, unable to contain his excitement, rushed forward. "Mr. President, Mr. President," he addressed both men simultaneously, "it's an honor to have you here. Let me show you the Snuggle Czar!"

He led them to the center of the factory floor, where the plushie-covered tank stood in all its glory. The Snuggle Czar was a sight to behold: a formidable T-90 tank enveloped in soft, colorful plush fabric, complete with oversized teddy bear ears and a friendly smile painted on the turret.

Trump's eyes widened. "Incredible. Just incredible. This is the kind of innovation we need. A tank that's tough but also... soft. It's like me—strong, but with a heart."

Putin stepped closer, running his hand over the plush exterior. "It's disarming," he mused. "An enemy wouldn't know whether to fear it or hug it."

A Proposal​

Brenda seized the moment. "Gentlemen, imagine the possibilities. A fleet of Snuggle Czars promoting peace and comfort across the globe. We could collaborate—bring together the best of our nations."

Trump nodded enthusiastically. "I like it. We could have a Trump Edition—golden plush, very classy. The best plush, believe me."

Putin smiled subtly. "And perhaps a Putin Bear—strong, resilient, yet... cuddly."

Juan's eyes sparkled. "The world isn't ready for this level of plushie diplomacy."

A New Era for Plushnikov​

As the leaders discussed potential collaborations, Hargrave watched from a distance, phone in hand. He dialed his supervisor, his voice a mix of disbelief and resignation. "Sir, you're not going to believe this, but... we've got Trump and Putin in the factory, and they're... bonding over a plushie tank."

The supervisor's exasperated sigh was audible even from a distance. "Just... keep me updated, Hargrave."

Back on the factory floor, plans were being made, hands were being shaken, and the future of Plushnikov Enterpriseslooked brighter—and more surreal—than ever.

As the discussions continued, the factory doors swung open once more, and in walked a familiar figure: Edward Snowden. He glanced around, taking in the scene, and then his eyes settled on the Snuggle Czar.

"I heard rumors," Snowden began, "but I had to see it for myself. A plushie tank? That's... unexpected."

Brenda grinned. "Welcome to the future, mate."

And so, in the heart of Russia, amidst an unlikely gathering of individuals, the next chapter of the plushie revolution began.
 

A Plushie Power Struggle​

The Plushnikov Factory buzzed with excitement. With Trump and Putin discussing the future of plushie warfare and Snowden loitering around, things were somehow more chaotic than usual. Juan had climbed onto the Snuggle Czar, striking heroic poses like a general surveying his troops.

Brenda, sensing an opportunity, nudged Trump. “We need funding to mass-produce these bad boys. Imagine it—every home in America with a Snuggle Czar model tank. It’s patriotic and cozy.”

Trump nodded. “Tremendous idea. The best idea. People love tanks. People love plushies. It’s a win-win.” He turned to Putin. “Vlad, you in?”

Putin narrowed his eyes. “I do not invest in novelties. But... perhaps a tactical plushie division could be of use.”

Brenda clapped her hands. “That’s the spirit, Vlad! That’s a banger of a pinched log!”

Trump blinked. “What?”

“Don’t ask,” I muttered.

Juan's Coup Attempt​

While the leaders debated the plushie industry’s future, Juan had other ideas. Inspired by his surroundings, he decided it was time for a regime change.

“Gentlemen!” he boomed, standing atop the plush-covered turret. “I, General Freedom, hereby declare the formation of the People’s Plushie Republic of Snuggleslovakia! This factory shall be my palace, and I shall rule as its benevolent leader!”

Silence. Then Hargrave muttered, “Oh, for the love of…”

Putin arched an eyebrow. “You are attempting a coup?”

Juan nodded solemnly. “A plushie coup. Non-violent, of course, but I will accept nothing less than full control over the factory.”

Trump leaned over to Brenda. “Does he do this often?”

“All the time,” she sighed.

Putin crossed his arms. “And how do you plan to enforce this… plushie coup?”

Juan raised his arms dramatically. “With my Plushie Army!”

At that moment, a group of factory workers, all holding stuffed animals, hesitantly stepped forward. Most looked like they had been promised extra breaks to participate. One guy held a teddy bear like it was a machine gun. Another had a stuffed penguin tucked under his arm like a grenade.

Trump laughed. “This guy! I love this guy! But listen, kid, you don’t seize power, you buy it. That’s the American way.”

Juan considered this. “How much does a factory cost?”

“More than the loose change in your plushie fanny pack,” Hargrave said dryly.

Juan’s face fell. “Damn.” He turned to Brenda. “You got any of that under-the-table lasagna money left?”

Brenda shook her head. “Nah, mate, that went into the plushie casino.”

Trump’s smile faded. “Casino? You didn’t license it, did you?”

Brenda smirked. “Course not.”

Putin chuckled. “And yet, you survived.”

“Barely,” I muttered.

Hargrave Makes a Move​

While Juan’s coup collapsed and Brenda tried to get Trump and Putin to fund her lasagna-plushie empire, Hargrave had stepped away, phone in hand.

“Yes, sir,” he muttered into the receiver. “They’re all here. Yes. All of them.”

A long pause.

Hargrave sighed. “Understood. I’ll keep them occupied.”

I caught his eye, and he knew I had heard just enough to be suspicious.

Something big was coming. And knowing these idiots, we were all in the middle of it.

To Be Continued...​

 
**Chapter 27: Housewives and Hostilities**

The Forrester Creations event had already delivered its fair share of unexpected encounters, but when **Kyle Richards** and **Lisa Vanderpump** walked into the penthouse, the atmosphere shifted.

Juan, standing near the bar, nearly choked on his champagne. “No way. **Kyle and LVP?** Together? *Here?*”

Brenda’s eyes widened. “This is the first time they’ve been in the same room in *months.*”

Price sighed, already sensing that things were about to take a turn. “We need to stay out of whatever this is.”

Kyle, looking stunning in a fitted black gown, was **all smiles** as she greeted some of the other guests. But Lisa, in a **flowing pastel dress with her signature poise**, kept her distance, sipping a glass of rosé with her usual air of quiet calculation.

There was a **tension in the air, thick as Vegas humidity.**

---

### **Old Wounds, New Venue**

The trio watched as Kyle approached a group of guests… **dangerously close to Lisa’s orbit.** Juan leaned in. “You think they’ll acknowledge each other?”

Brenda shook her head. “Not a chance.”

But then—Kyle’s eyes flickered toward Lisa, and for a **split second,** something like nostalgia crossed her face. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the kind of **polished restraint only a Real Housewife could master.**

“Lisa,” Kyle finally said, her voice even.

Lisa’s lips curled into the smallest of smirks. “Kyle.”

Juan whispered, “Ohhh boy.”

Price shot him a look. “Don’t start.”

For a moment, the two women just **stood there,** the energy between them unreadable to anyone who wasn’t well-versed in **Beverly Hills drama.**

Kyle broke the silence first. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Lisa took a sip of her wine, ever unbothered. “And yet, here I am.”

Brenda bit her lip, trying not to let her **Housewives fangirl side** take over.

Kyle forced a polite smile. “How’s Vanderpump Vegas?”

Lisa returned the same **frosted politeness.** “Thriving, darling.”

The air was **thick with unsaid words.**

And then—out of nowhere—**some guest, clearly unaware of the tension, tried to joke about their friendship.**

“You two should do a reunion special,” the man laughed. “Bring back the good ol’ days.”

Juan exhaled sharply. “Oh, this dude is about to learn a *lesson.*”

Kyle’s face stiffened. Lisa’s smile **didn’t quite reach her eyes.**

“I think we’ve moved past that,” Kyle said, voice light but firm.

Lisa, however, tilted her head. “Or some of us have, at least.”

Price **immediately stepped in.** “Alright, alright,” he said, his voice low but authoritative. “This is not the place.”

Juan nodded quickly, reading the situation. “Yeah, let’s not turn the **Hope for the Future launch** into a **Housewives reunion special.**”

Brenda, meanwhile, **desperately wanted to see where this was going** but knew Price was right.

Kyle took a slow breath, then **smiled tightly.** “You’re right, John. Not the place.”

Lisa gave him an amused glance. “Wise man.”

With that, the **potential fight was diffused—barely.**

Kyle turned back to her circle. Lisa drifted toward another guest. But **everyone in the room had felt it.**

As soon as they were out of earshot, Brenda exhaled dramatically. “That was *the most stressful two minutes of my life.*”

Juan shook his head in amazement. “We were *this close* to a Vegas edition of the **Beverly Hills reunion.**”

Price ran a hand down his face. “I told you. **Stay out of it.**”

But even as they moved on, the trio knew they had just witnessed something **legendary.**

**To be continued...**
 
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