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Dumb & dumber


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My younger brother Ken, and his best friend Chris V. were two of the goofiest mental deficients ever to walk the planet. I'm sure Beavis & butthead were loosely based on this pair. Mind you, Ken went on to graduate from Harvard Business School, but you could say the road he took there had a few, let's just say, rather unconventional detours. For a long period of time I had visions of posting bale, and struggling to find him a job at Burger King. But it turns out Harvard's dogged pursuit of only the best, and brightest somehow found him.

 

One day my mother asked me, "Ron can you go get Chris and your Brother? They're stuck out at a Dairy Queen in Lemon Grove". What? "How in the hell did they get out there"? My Mom fired me one of those looks as if to say "Dumb question". So, after a 40 minute drive in my beat up 68 510, I found them stoned off their ass on the corner of Bum F**ked Egypt and the middle of nowhere. As if a 40 minute drive home with two witless wanders suffering from psychotropically induced diarrhea of the mouth wasn't bad enough, I get a flat tire not three miles from home. And to add insult to injury... my jack was MIA.

 

Long story short, my stepfather comes out and he's less than cordial about having to rescue the three stooges. (Note, I had now been relegated to stooge status for operating a motor vehicle without a jack.) Meanwhile my brother and his buddy are doing a piss poor job of masking the fact that they missed Nancy Reagan's memo about just saying no. In a stroke of pure stupidity they get the brilliant idea to practice a little immersion therapy on Chris's claustrophobia. So once the car was back on all four, Chris climbs in the trunk and Ken shuts it. Within a matter of seconds Chris decides he's had enough and starts whimpering for us to let him out. At first we were all getting a chuckle out of toying with him. "I don't have the keys, do you"? It wasn't long before Chris's irrational fear took hold and he began to panic. "O.K. who has he keys, let's get him out of there". I looked through my pockets, nothing. Ken looked through his pockets, we looked in the car, around the car, under the car, but still nothing. By this time Chris is spinning in the trunk like the Tasmanian Devil cussing and spitting, because he thinks we're still messing with him.

 

At this point I'm starting to get a little concerned; not so much for Chris, but for my keys, when suddenly things quiet down in the back. Then, in a desperate voice we hear him say "I have the keys". I nearly shit myself laughing. Barely able to breath, I looked over at my stepfather. He stood there stone faced, said "I'm out of here", climbed into his van, and drove off in discussed. I did my best to hold myself together and talk this stoned panicked half-wit through fingering open the latch, but this proved to be akin to guiding a herd of stampeding elephants through the eye of a needle. I pulled the back seat and had him pass the keys threw. When we opened the trunk he flew out like the guy in The Hangover movie, pissing, screaming and throwing punches. Dude was scarred for life. In a professional psychotherapy setting Ken would be facing a malpractice suet for sure.

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Word on the Corp sports non reality. I'm a badminton man myself. It's a pure spot cuz it's got zero corporate sponsorship. Than and curling. LOLOLO :thumbup:

 

Cause the thing you hit with a racket is called a shuttlecock.

 

:lol:

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that made me laugh my ass off. BTW, you have good writing skills

Thanks man, glad you liked it. I write a lot of dry research papers with absolutely no room for self expression what so ever. Needless to say I have a shit load of pent up desire to express myself. So it's either tell a story here, or armpit fart Lady of Spain in the subway again. Hell, I made $38 last time.

 

I checked out your build thread BTW, Those last few things on the list are always the hardest to get through, but you're close man. Should be a really fun car too.

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Cause the thing you hit with a racket is called a shuttlecock.

 

:lol:

Are we still talking about sports here, or has Dat510 moved on to something noddy? Damn Dude, that's some seriously sick shit :blush:

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Lol

You started it Talking about bad Minton.

No man worth his salt plays a sport with rackets., no sir.

If eating and sleeping were a sport id be an Olympic athlete.

:lol:

 

You are a sick bastard.. People read/see/hear what they want... :sneaky:

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You are a sick bastard.. People read/see/hear what they want... :sneaky:

 

 

Dude, I've been framed! This is like one of those chicks who wares a low cut dress and then outs you for staring at her cleavage. :crying: Naaa You got me, I am a sick bastard.

 

You know I actually played badminton once and I have to admit, I could feel my balls shrinking the whole time.

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Thanks man, glad you liked it. I write a lot of dry research papers with absolutely no room for self expression what so ever. Needless to say I have a shit load of pent up desire to express myself. So it's either tell a story here, or armpit fart Lady of Spain in the subway again. Hell, I made $38 last time.

 

I checked out your build thread BTW, Those last few things on the list are always the hardest to get through, but you're close man. Should be a really fun car too.

 

Thanks!

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Dude, I've been framed! This is like one of those chicks who wares a low cut dress and then outs you for staring at her cleavage. :crying: Naaa You got me, I am a sick bastard.

 

You know I actually played badminton once and I have to admit, I could feel my balls shrinking the whole time.

 

Happens to the best of us :lol:

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