Useless Thread MMI: Moscow Zoo membership card Appreciation Thread

[PanthersPens62]

Karen of the day:

 

[John Price]

 

[End of Line]

 

[John Price]

 

[John Price]

Matilda Ekh had a perfect first quarter going 5-for-5 from the field, helping the Hokies get out to a double-digit lead that would be enough of a cushion down the stretch as Tech earned its sixth ACC victory of the season Sunday afternoon. Ekh finished with 23 points, Carleigh Wenzel scored 21 and two other Hokies, Carys Baker (14) and Rose Micheaux (13), were also in double figures for the homestanding Hokies.



The Hokies will play host to Syracuse on Thursday, Feb. 6 at 6 p.m. ET. Don't miss a chance to secure your tickets and see the Hokies in action!

 

[John Price]

 

[John Price]

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[PanthersPens62]

Coach Ham will always have a soft spot in my heart for leading The U to its 1st taste of success in the Big East until he decided to blow up his career to coach the freaking Wizards.

 

[End of Line]

MLB fires ump Hoberg for shared betting account

MLB fired umpire Pat Hoberg for "sharing" legal gambling accounts with a poker player who bet on baseball. MLB said there is no evidence Hoberg bet on baseball himself.

www.espn.com

 

[Sega Dreamcast]

That episode is why George is the best character, after not seeing her topless, she sees his cock and laughs at how tiny it is, then he gets revenge by being tricking her into eating lobster like a total asshole

 

[SoupNazi]

Lasagna HQ: The Malaysian Expansion​

By some twisted miracle, we made it to Malaysia without being arrested for international cruise ship theft.

The moment we docked, Brenda was on a mission.

“I need a headquarters,” she declared, storming off into Kuala Lumpur like a woman possessed.

Brenda Buys a Building​

Somehow—I still don’t understand how—Brenda found a high-rise building for sale within hours.

“This,” she announced, gesturing to a crumbling, graffiti-covered structure, “is the future home of the Lasagna Empire.”

Hargrave stared at the very obviously condemned building.

“It’s a death trap,” he said.

“Nah, mate. Just needs a bit of a spit shine.”

Juan, ever the visionary, squinted up at the broken windows. “Can we put a giant plushie on the roof?”

Brenda clapped him on the back. “You’re thinking big, mate. I like it.”

The Purchase​

Within an hour, Brenda had somehow convinced a local businessman to sell her the property for an undisclosed sum.

“We don’t even have money!” I hissed at her.

She winked. “Didn’t say I paid in cash.”

I didn’t ask. I really, really didn’t want to know.

The Plushie-Lasagna Master Plan​

Brenda gathered us around a dirty plastic table outside a noodle shop and laid out her grand plan.

“We make this place the Plushie-Lasagna Megacenter of Southeast Asia.”

Hargrave sighed heavily. “Why does that phrase even exist?”

“We’ll have plushie stores on the lower floors, lasagna restaurants on the upper floors, and—” she grinned wildly “—a penthouse for our corporate office.”

Juan threw his hands in the air. “Plushie Paradise!”

I rubbed my temples. “Do you even have a business license?”

Brenda waved me off. “We’ll sort that later.”

Hargrave sat back. “I give this two weeks before the Malaysian government shuts you down.”

Brenda smirked. “Two weeks? Mate, this is gonna last a lifetime.”

And with that, Brenda’s Lasagna Empire had its headquarters.

For now.

 

[SoupNazi]

The next morning, Brenda barged into our rented room, slamming a makeshift blueprint down on the table.

“Alright, mates, listen up,” she declared, waving a half-eaten slice of lasagna like a baton. “Phase One of the Lasagna-Plushie Megacenter begins now.”

Hargrave, half-asleep, groaned. “Oh good. Another nightmare.”

Renovation Chaos​

With zero permits and no skilled labor, Juan and Brenda took matters into their own hands.

Juan tried to paint the outside of the building but kept falling off the ladder. Eventually, he just dropped the bucket off the roof, coating a passing businessman in neon orange paint.

Brenda hired local teenagers to clear out the building in exchange for free lasagna—which Juan was cooking in a trash can in the alley.

“I think this is illegal,” I muttered to Hargrave.

“This?” he scoffed. “Try everything they’ve ever done.”

The Malaysian Authorities Get Involved​

By Day Three, the Malaysian government noticed.

An official-looking man in a suit showed up with a clipboard. “You do not have a business permit,” he informed Brenda.

She flashed her biggest, most insincere smile. “That’s an optional step, mate.”

The official blinked. “No. No, it’s not.”

Brenda patted his shoulder. “Well, that’s just your opinion.”

Brenda’s New Catchphrase​

At that moment, Juan burst out of the building, covered in plaster dust, holding a giant plush orangutan.

“We need more plushies!” he yelled. “This is just a baby empire, Brenda!”

Brenda threw an arm around Juan. “That’s right, mate. This is just a cheeky little banger of a global takeover!”

I groaned. “Please don’t make that a catchphrase.”

Too late.

The Plushie-Heist Escape Plan​

By the end of the week, our building was condemned (again), our lasagna stand had been shut down for health code violations, and Interpol might have been involved.

It was time to leave.

“We’re not done here,” Brenda growled as we fled through Kuala Lumpur’s crowded streets. “Malaysia just wasn’t ready for us.”

“So what now?” I asked.

Brenda grinned. “We take this banger of a global takeover to the next level.”

Hargrave sighed. “I regret my entire career.”

And with that, we boarded a plane to our next disaster.

 

[SoupNazi]

Plushie-Lasagna Diplomacy in India​

After barely escaping Malaysia with Interpol breathing down our necks, Brenda had one goal in mind: expanding into India.

“A billion potential customers!” she shouted over the airplane’s intercom. (She wasn’t supposed to have access to it.) “Lasagna and plushies for everyone!”

Juan, stuffing his face with airplane peanuts, nodded. “I hear they love cricket. Maybe we can sell plushie crickets.”

I groaned. “That’s not—never mind.”

Hargrave, now permanently exhausted, simply muttered, “I hope the plane crashes.”

The Taj Mahal Incident​

Landing in Delhi, Brenda wasted no time. She set up a rickety folding table directly outside the Taj Mahal, proudly displaying plushies shaped like the famous monument. Each one came with a tiny compartment for storing lasagna.

Tourists were both horrified and intrigued.

A guide walked by, eyes widening in disgust. “You cannot do this here.”

Brenda ignored him. “You, sir, look like you need some Taj-a-lasagna™!”

Juan, meanwhile, had completely misunderstood India’s culture. He ran through the crowd holding a plush cow, shouting, “Sacred plushies! Get your sacred plushies!”

I whispered to Hargrave, “We’re getting arrested, aren’t we?”

He nodded.

The Bollywood Disaster​

Brenda’s next big idea? Breaking into Bollywood.

She somehow snuck onto a movie set, interrupting a dramatic romance scene by hurling lasagna samples at the actors.

The director was furious. “Who is this woman?!”

Brenda bowed theatrically. “I am the future of Bollywood cuisine, mate!”

Security dragged us out immediately.

Juan pouted. “I wanted to dance in a big musical number.”

Brenda dusted herself off. “Onward, then. We’re going international, baby.”

I sighed. “We’re already international.”

She ignored me. “Pack your bags, boys! We’re heading to Russia—AGAIN!”

Hargrave facepalmed. “This is my actual hell.”

And so, against all reason, we boarded a plane to Moscow.

 

[Mantis]

stfu @John Price

 

[John Price]

Goodfellas is on AMC lol

 

[John Price]

Chapter 26: Hope and Carter


The trio arrived at the Forrester Creations private event in one of Las Vegas’ most exclusive penthouse suites, high above the Strip. The view from the balcony was breathtaking, the neon lights stretching endlessly across the desert night. Inside, the party was a refined yet glamorous affair—a mix of industry elites, designers, and hand-selected VIPs sipping champagne and discussing fashion like it was life or death.


Brenda, who had been vibrating with excitement since they left Circa, adjusted her dress and whispered, “We are so out of our league.”


Juan smirked. “Speak for yourself. I was born to crash parties like this.”


Price, looking unimpressed, glanced at the lavish spread of hors d’oeuvres. “At least the food’s free.”


Before they could grab a drink, a stunning blonde woman in an effortlessly elegant gown approached, her smile warm but her presence unmistakably commanding.


Hope Logan.


Brenda’s breath caught. “Oh my God. Hope for the Future Hope Logan.”


Hope laughed lightly. “That’s me.” She glanced at the trio. “You must be Eric’s guests.”


Juan extended a hand, ever the charmer. “Juan Gomes. Big fan of… whatever it is you do.”


Brenda elbowed him hard. “He means the collection,” she said quickly. “I’m obsessed with Hope for the Future. It’s everything modern fashion should be—sustainable, ethical, elegant.”


Hope’s smile widened. “That’s exactly what we strive for. I love hearing that.”


Price, however, noticed the slight tension behind her eyes. For all her warmth, there was something off—like her mind was elsewhere.


Before he could dwell on it, another sharply dressed figure approached—a tall, impeccably groomed man with an air of quiet authority.


“Hope,” he said smoothly, before turning to the trio. “I see we have new faces.”


Carter Walton.


Brenda recognized him instantly. “Carter! Forrester Creations’ legal eagle and all-around legend.”


Carter chuckled. “I like this one already.”


Price, ever observant, didn’t miss the way Carter subtly placed a hand on Hope’s back, as if grounding her. Something was definitely off.


Juan, meanwhile, had already locked onto the most important thing. “Alright, legal legend, tell me—do we have an open bar situation here?”


Carter grinned. “It’s Vegas. What do you think?”

---

A Sense of Unease​

As the night went on, the trio mingled, drank, and tried to blend into a world far more polished than their own.


But Price kept watching Hope. She laughed, she conversed, but there was an undercurrent of something unspoken between her and Carter.


At one point, as she sipped her champagne, Hope murmured, “I shouldn’t even be here.”


Carter, standing beside her, responded in a low, firm tone. “You deserve to be here. You need this.”


Brenda, sensing the tension, leaned toward Price. “You’re seeing this, right?”


Price nodded. “Something’s up.”


Juan, who was deep in conversation with a fashion influencer about the viability of wearing Crocs to high-end events, finally noticed their concern. “Uh, what’s happening?”


Brenda lowered her voice. “Hope and Carter… something’s going on.”


Before they could pry further, Hope suddenly turned to them with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, guys. I just… I need some air.”


She stepped away, leaving Carter watching her go with an unreadable expression.


Juan took a sip of his drink. “Well, that’s definitely something.”


Brenda nodded. “And I want to know what.”


Price exhaled. “Looks like we just stumbled into Forrester family drama.”


And just like that, the night had gotten a lot more interesting.

---

To be continued...

 

[John Price]

AMC censored the f*** out of Tommy DeVito

no point watching

 

[John Price]

stfu @John Price

Looks like your boy Marchand may be dealt

 

[John Price]

Lasagna HQ: The Malaysian Expansion​

By some twisted miracle, we made it to Malaysia without being arrested for international cruise ship theft.

The moment we docked, Brenda was on a mission.

“I need a headquarters,” she declared, storming off into Kuala Lumpur like a woman possessed.

Brenda Buys a Building​

Somehow—I still don’t understand how—Brenda found a high-rise building for sale within hours.

“This,” she announced, gesturing to a crumbling, graffiti-covered structure, “is the future home of the Lasagna Empire.”

Hargrave stared at the very obviously condemned building.

“It’s a death trap,” he said.

“Nah, mate. Just needs a bit of a spit shine.”

Juan, ever the visionary, squinted up at the broken windows. “Can we put a giant plushie on the roof?”

Brenda clapped him on the back. “You’re thinking big, mate. I like it.”

The Purchase​

Within an hour, Brenda had somehow convinced a local businessman to sell her the property for an undisclosed sum.

“We don’t even have money!” I hissed at her.

She winked. “Didn’t say I paid in cash.”

I didn’t ask. I really, really didn’t want to know.

The Plushie-Lasagna Master Plan​

Brenda gathered us around a dirty plastic table outside a noodle shop and laid out her grand plan.

“We make this place the Plushie-Lasagna Megacenter of Southeast Asia.”

Hargrave sighed heavily. “Why does that phrase even exist?”

“We’ll have plushie stores on the lower floors, lasagna restaurants on the upper floors, and—” she grinned wildly “—a penthouse for our corporate office.”

Juan threw his hands in the air. “Plushie Paradise!”

I rubbed my temples. “Do you even have a business license?”

Brenda waved me off. “We’ll sort that later.”

Hargrave sat back. “I give this two weeks before the Malaysian government shuts you down.”

Brenda smirked. “Two weeks? Mate, this is gonna last a lifetime.”

And with that, Brenda’s Lasagna Empire had its headquarters.

For now.

The next morning, Brenda barged into our rented room, slamming a makeshift blueprint down on the table.

“Alright, mates, listen up,” she declared, waving a half-eaten slice of lasagna like a baton. “Phase One of the Lasagna-Plushie Megacenter begins now.”

Hargrave, half-asleep, groaned. “Oh good. Another nightmare.”

Renovation Chaos​

With zero permits and no skilled labor, Juan and Brenda took matters into their own hands.

Juan tried to paint the outside of the building but kept falling off the ladder. Eventually, he just dropped the bucket off the roof, coating a passing businessman in neon orange paint.

Brenda hired local teenagers to clear out the building in exchange for free lasagna—which Juan was cooking in a trash can in the alley.

“I think this is illegal,” I muttered to Hargrave.

“This?” he scoffed. “Try everything they’ve ever done.”

The Malaysian Authorities Get Involved​

By Day Three, the Malaysian government noticed.

An official-looking man in a suit showed up with a clipboard. “You do not have a business permit,” he informed Brenda.

She flashed her biggest, most insincere smile. “That’s an optional step, mate.”

The official blinked. “No. No, it’s not.”

Brenda patted his shoulder. “Well, that’s just your opinion.”

Brenda’s New Catchphrase​

At that moment, Juan burst out of the building, covered in plaster dust, holding a giant plush orangutan.

“We need more plushies!” he yelled. “This is just a baby empire, Brenda!”

Brenda threw an arm around Juan. “That’s right, mate. This is just a cheeky little banger of a global takeover!”

I groaned. “Please don’t make that a catchphrase.”

Too late.

The Plushie-Heist Escape Plan​

By the end of the week, our building was condemned (again), our lasagna stand had been shut down for health code violations, and Interpol might have been involved.

It was time to leave.

“We’re not done here,” Brenda growled as we fled through Kuala Lumpur’s crowded streets. “Malaysia just wasn’t ready for us.”

“So what now?” I asked.

Brenda grinned. “We take this banger of a global takeover to the next level.”

Hargrave sighed. “I regret my entire career.”

And with that, we boarded a plane to our next disaster.

Plushie-Lasagna Diplomacy in India​

After barely escaping Malaysia with Interpol breathing down our necks, Brenda had one goal in mind: expanding into India.

“A billion potential customers!” she shouted over the airplane’s intercom. (She wasn’t supposed to have access to it.) “Lasagna and plushies for everyone!”

Juan, stuffing his face with airplane peanuts, nodded. “I hear they love cricket. Maybe we can sell plushie crickets.”

I groaned. “That’s not—never mind.”

Hargrave, now permanently exhausted, simply muttered, “I hope the plane crashes.”

The Taj Mahal Incident​

Landing in Delhi, Brenda wasted no time. She set up a rickety folding table directly outside the Taj Mahal, proudly displaying plushies shaped like the famous monument. Each one came with a tiny compartment for storing lasagna.

Tourists were both horrified and intrigued.

A guide walked by, eyes widening in disgust. “You cannot do this here.”

Brenda ignored him. “You, sir, look like you need some Taj-a-lasagna™!”

Juan, meanwhile, had completely misunderstood India’s culture. He ran through the crowd holding a plush cow, shouting, “Sacred plushies! Get your sacred plushies!”

I whispered to Hargrave, “We’re getting arrested, aren’t we?”

He nodded.

The Bollywood Disaster​

Brenda’s next big idea? Breaking into Bollywood.

She somehow snuck onto a movie set, interrupting a dramatic romance scene by hurling lasagna samples at the actors.

The director was furious. “Who is this woman?!”

Brenda bowed theatrically. “I am the future of Bollywood cuisine, mate!”

Security dragged us out immediately.

Juan pouted. “I wanted to dance in a big musical number.”

Brenda dusted herself off. “Onward, then. We’re going international, baby.”

I sighed. “We’re already international.”

She ignored me. “Pack your bags, boys! We’re heading to Russia—AGAIN!”

Hargrave facepalmed. “This is my actual hell.”

And so, against all reason, we boarded a plane to Moscow.

Seems about right to me. Last year was an outlier for "The Tribe".

Surprised Detroit is not favored to do well too. They have a promising young roster. Wondering why they are 4th.

 

[Mantis]

Looks like your boy Marchand may be dealt

If they aren’t gona make the playoffs they might as well get a 1st for him. He is UFA and can just come back next season.

 

[John Price]

If they aren’t gona make the playoffs they might as well get a 1st for him. He is UFA and can just come back next season.

They need to clean house and remove Sweeney completely he is an idiot

 

[SoupNazi]

Seems about right to me. Last year was an outlier for "The Tribe".

Surprised Detroit is not favored to do well too. They have a promising young roster. Wondering why they are 4th.

Noted baseball savant Plushie Boy has spoken.

 

[John Price]

@PanthersPens62

 

[SoupNazi]

Back in Mother Russia​

We barely landed in Moscow before we were surrounded by men in dark suits.

“Uh, diplomatic escort?” Juan whispered.

Brenda grinned. “I knew Putin would roll out the red carpet for me.”

An Awkward Reunion​

It turned out Putin wasn’t exactly thrilled to see us. We were dragged into the Kremlin, where he sat behind a massive desk, glowering.

“You again,” he growled, fingers steepled.

Brenda winked. “Miss me, Vlad?”

Juan pulled out a plushie that looked suspiciously like Putin. “Look! It plays your speeches when you squeeze it!”

He squeezed. The plushie’s tinny speaker crackled:
“The West will regret underestimating Russia.”

Silence.

Putin slowly stood up.

Hargrave muttered under his breath, “We’re gonna die.”

A Surprising Twist​

But instead of throwing us into a Siberian prison, Putin sighed and slumped back into his chair.

“You people… I cannot decide if you are fools or geniuses.”

Brenda smirked. “A little of both.”

Putin rubbed his temples. “What do you want?”

Juan beamed. “A plushie factory in Russia! Also, can I borrow a tank?”

Hargrave let out a strangled wheeze.

Putin sighed. Then, to our surprise, he waved us away. “Fine. Stay. Do whatever. Just… leave me alone.”

Hargrave’s Breaking Point​

As soon as we left the Kremlin, Hargrave pulled out his phone.

“This is Special Agent Hargrave,” he muttered, pacing in the snow. “They’re setting up a plushie factory in Russia. I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

A pause.

“No, sir. I don’t think we can extradite them. Putin just gave them diplomatic immunity.”

He groaned. “I need a vacation.”

Juan patted him on the back. “We’ll make you a plushie to cheer you up.”

Hargrave just walked off into the night.

And just like that, we were officially staying in Russia.

 

[SoupNazi]

Mother Russia and the Plushie Empire​

Snow swirled around us as we trudged through the streets of Moscow, newly-minted Russian diplomats with zero clue what to do next.

Brenda wasn’t fazed. She was too busy plotting.

“We need an office. A headquarters. A place to build the plushie empire,” she declared.

Juan nodded sagely. “And I need a tank.”

Hargrave, who had returned after an evening of heavy drinking, groaned. “Can we at least get a hotel before you two start annexing land?”

Brenda snapped her fingers. “Hotel! That’s it! We buy a hotel. Make it a plushie-themed resort.”

Juan gasped. “With lasagna room service?”

Hargrave put his head in his hands. “You’re going to ruin Russia.”

The Hotel Plushnikov​

Two days later, thanks to bribes, shady connections, and one particularly corrupt official who really liked Brenda’s lasagna, we were the proud owners of a run-down Soviet-era hotel in the heart of Moscow.

The Hotel Plushnikov was a monstrosity—gray, drab, and seemingly held together with cigarette smoke and despair.

“This place is perfect,” Brenda said, wiping dust off a bust of Lenin.

Juan spread his arms wide. “A little plushie magic, and this place will be the beating heart of the Russian plushie revolution.”

Hargrave stared at a flickering light fixture. “You do realize there’s no running water, right?”

Brenda waved him off. “Details.”

Business Booms (Sort Of)​

The grand opening was… chaotic.

We had one (1) paying customer, an elderly man who walked in by accident and immediately asked where the nearest vodka shop was.

But that didn’t stop Brenda.

She was slapping lasagna onto plates, trying to convince Russian diners it was a traditional dish from Siberia.

Juan was handing out bear-shaped plushies, claiming each one contained the spirit of a noble Russian warrior.

And me? I was just trying to keep the place from catching on fire.

Putin Returns​

Just as Brenda was announcing a "Plushie Loyalty Program" (buy 10, get a free lasagna), a group of black SUVs pulled up outside.

Putin stepped out.

Hargrave’s face went pale. “Oh God. We’re dead.”

Brenda, oblivious, greeted him with a flirty wink. “Back so soon, Vlad?”

Putin surveyed the half-decorated, barely functioning plushie hotel and sighed.

“I should have sent you to Siberia.”

Juan stepped forward, holding out a plushie of Putin riding a bear. “You like?”

Putin stared at it for a long moment. Then, to our absolute shock, he took it.

He turned on his heel, motioned to his men, and left without another word.

A Strange Victory​

Brenda clapped her hands together. “See? Business is booming.”

Hargrave groaned. “I hate all of you.”

And so, against all odds, we were still in Russia, still free, and now the proud owners of Moscow’s worst hotel.

And Juan still hadn’t gotten his tank.