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Old 07-22-2010, 03:29 AM   #91 (permalink)
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Originally Posted by TheCunningStunt View Post
Nice dream score!
It certainly is, I remember being in ecstasy during the dream!
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Old 07-22-2010, 03:33 AM   #92 (permalink)
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Yeah, well shove yer Brad Pitt up yer arse.

I had a dream a couple of weeks ago I was the rythem guitar player in the band Dinosaur Jr!
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Old 07-22-2010, 03:38 AM   #93 (permalink)
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Originally Posted by TheCunningStunt View Post
Yeah, well shove yer Brad Pitt up yer arse.

I had a dream a couple of weeks ago I was the rythem guitar player in the band Dinosaur Jr!
You just calm right down now. I will not accept profanity such as this. Now get on your knees and kiss my pussy......cat!
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Old 07-22-2010, 05:43 AM   #94 (permalink)
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I think one of the reasons other than it being a good film (fight club), is because Pitt is in it.
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i havent i refuse to in fact. it triggers my ptsd from yrs ago when i thought my ex's anal beads were those edible candy necklaces
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Keep it in your pants scottie.
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Old 07-22-2010, 08:58 AM   #95 (permalink)
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The Farmer’s Market on Fairfax and 3rd is a Los Angeles landmark, attracting tourists and everyday Angelinos alike, as well as many famous faces. Among the celebrities I have seen there are Muhammad Ali, Terri Garr, Tyra Banks, Laura Linney, Keenan Ivory Wayans, the guitarist for The Cult, Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs, and Weird Al Yankovic.

But Ann Coulter is the only celebrity I’ve ever spotted at Farmer’s Market that I had a dream about. It was several years ago and I still remember it well. Here's how it went.

I first spotted her sitting at a table in front of The Gumbo Pot with another woman who looked not unlike her, but a generation older (I neglected to ask her at any point subsequently whether this had in fact been her mother). I vaguely recognized her and began to notice, stealing furtive glances up from the copy of Steinbeck I was reading, that she was eyeing me with unsettling scrutiny.

The next thing I knew, her companion (mother?) had left and Coulter was standing over me, looking skeptically at my reading material.

‘The Grapes of Wrath, huh?’

‘Yes’ I said, faking composure. ‘It’s fantastic.’

‘It’s a fantastic primer for vacuous proto-Communists everywhere,’ she said dismissively.

‘I don’t know about that..’

She sighed. ‘I don’t have enough ink in my pen to keep a running list of what you don’t know. May I?’

She motioned to the empty chair next to me.

‘Of course.’ It would be fair to say my voice trembled a little.

She sat and said nothing. Ann Coulter evidently takes an unappreciative view of small talk. That she was eager to continue antagonizing me became evident when I re-opened my recently-insulted book to resume reading. A young man passed in a t-shirt proclaiming ‘Iraq Nam’. She stopped him.

‘1. Haircut. 2. Shower. 3. Get a job, you sniveling hippy,’ she glowered. ‘You’re probably too high to remember that, so write it down--if you can write.’

He looked at her with dismay and scampered away like a kicked cat. She turned to me with bloodlust.

‘What do you think of the war: complete success, or very nearly complete success?’ she asked.

‘Well, in no time—barring the strong possibility of Civil War--we’ll have a democratically-elected anti-US Islamicist government in charge of the world’s second-largest oil reserves, so I’d have to say only very-nearly, on the complete success scale, at a hysterically distorted best.’

She showed her teeth. ‘It sounds to me like you don’t support our troops.’

‘I think that ‘Support Our Troops’ business is the most crass, craven cowardice ever to go unquestioned by the allegedly Liberal media.’

‘Yes? Yes?’ There was oddly growing excitement in her voice.

‘It allows the Administration to absolve itself of responsibility for its own flawed policy. It’s no different than if you sent a classroom of 2nd graders into a burning building, and when anyone objects you throw in their face that they "don’t support our 2nd graders"’

‘Where do you live?’

‘A few blocks away.’

‘Take me there.’

When we got to my apartment, she looked around glumly.

‘I was thinking you’d have half-burned American flags up on the wall,’ she said, disappointed.

‘That’s ridiculous. I love my country.’

‘Whatever you think that means,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘Don’t you have anything nasty to say about the President?’

‘Like what?’

‘Like he’s an imbecile, or corrupt, or a corrupt imbecile—the usual sore-loser bitter chatter.’

‘To be honest, I didn’t like the nasty things that were said about Clinton, and I’ve decided to have respect for the Office, no matter who holds it. I don’t think President Bush is corrupt or an imbecile anyway. Would you like something to drink?’

‘I think maybe this was a mistake,’ she said, starting to go.

‘That’s not to say I don’t disagree strongly with many of his policies and objectives.’

She seemed to reconsider. ‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. Name one.’

‘Get me a drink first.’

With every point I expressed that ran counter to a view she held, she removed one article of clothing. Soon she sat on my couch naked, gently pulling at her untrimmed pubic hair, staring intently but not quite invitingly at me. The growing hard lump in my throat was just outpaced by the one in my pants. I was a little nervous because we had agreed on the last two points—the need to reconsider the option of nuclear energy, and drilling in the Arctic—and I noticed her oversized nipples were no longer hard.

Luckily, she was, by this point, determined.

‘What do you think,’ she began provocatively, ‘of the President’s plan to privatize Social Security?’

I sighed with relief; this was as sure a promise to seal the deal as her asking if I had a condom.

‘I think it’s a payoff to the Americans the President has always been most intent on pleasing: the richest 1%.’

‘What do you mean?’ she cooed. I noticed her nipples hardening once more. She dropped to her knees in front of me. She pushed me backwards and positioned my legs up in the air.

‘A stock’s value is even now only partially tied to the actual value of any publicly traded company.
But who’s going to profit from inflated valuations when stock prices swell irrationally from the forced, artificial injection of capital?

Her breath was hot on my ‘taint as she lifted my scrotum. ‘Yes? Yes?’

‘You might as well shoehorn billions of dollars into the Baseball Card market. The price of a Derek Jeter rookie will be driven up to hundreds of thousands of dollars—before the bubble bursts and the whole market crashes massively.’ It was getting hard to stay on point as she tongue-****ed my ****ter vigorously.

‘Don’t..Stop!!’ her contorted mouth pled from my butthole.

‘The top 1% will sell stocks at the inflated valuations to the novice investors-by-necessity, the market will swell and crash, and the same 1% will come back and re-purchase their holdings at pennies on the dollar. Meanwhile, Social Security will go bankrupt and all the novice investors will be eating catfood for the duration of their "golden years,'’ barring a massive Federal bailout several hundred times in excess of what the Savings & Loan scandal cost us.’

She sprung up on the couch on all fours and looked over her shoulder at me. She pointed to her twitching, puckered anus. ‘See this?’

I nodded eagerly.

‘I want you to wreck it.’

I spit on my skeezer-pleaser and, prying her ass cheeks apart like a hot dinner roll, drove it home, into the biggest browneye I had ever seen. She gurgled contentedly. Every thrust of my babymaker was met with a wrenched squeal as I grabbed her by the hips and began really leaning into it.

‘Harder!’ she begged, ‘Harder!! Tell me what you think of Chomsky!’

‘I..think..he’s..brill..iant..but..I..don’t really agree with much of his stance on Israel, and--’

‘You’re slowing down!’ she snapped. ‘DON’T SLOW DOWN!’

I went back to punishing her *******, giving no thought whatsoever to compassionate conservatism as her chocolate socket gnawed on my pork pipe. She was babbling now, as out of a delirious reverie.

‘Feed it,' Ann Coulter rasped. 'Feed my hungry *******!'

I buried her face in a throw pillow and she swiveled her hips back on my ****stick with obvious appreciation. My pace quickened as my man-magma built towards eruption.

‘Wait!’ she gasped, sensing the fuse on my yogurt cannon was burning quick. ‘I want to take you ass-to-mouth!’

I withdrew from her puckerhole with an audible ‘pop’ and she scrambled around, gulping at my wang-dang-doodle as though the lives of all her loved ones hinged on her marks for enthusiasm. Her eyes rolled up pleadingly as she threw her head down again and again on my magic johnson. I knew what she wanted.

‘There is a specter haunting Europe,’ I began, and she started to convulse spasmodically with her own thrashing orgasm, her head now dribbling in a blur against my groin. I repeated every Karl Marx quote I could think of until I reached my own ‘historic inevitability’ and launched surge after surge from my hairy boda bag. I ejaculated with what seemed like enough force to blow out the back of her head--but her head was made of stronger stuff. She sputtered, gobbled and gulped what I’d have to call a very liberal, even radically so, quantity of hot splooey.

Once she caught her breath, she wiped her mouth, stood, and took me by the hand.

‘Let’s go to the bathroom.’

‘Why?’

She seemed surprised I had to ask. Her tone was that of someone reminding another of something too obvious to need mention.

‘Uh, so I can get in the tub and you can piss all over me?’

I sat in a robe and watched her as she dressed.

‘Will I see you again?’ I asked tentatively.

‘Sure,’ she said, pointing to the TV. ‘On that.’

Some moments passed. I tried to dispel the awkward silence.

‘Well, nice meeting you,’ I offered.

‘You’ve really got a gift for tedious small talk,’ she shot back.

I was a little hurt and, recognizing this, she softened just a shade as she reached for her purse to leave.

‘Hey.’

‘Yes?’ I asked.

‘Thanks for not staring at my adam’s apple.’

‘No problem.’

She let herself out without another word, and I sat in the late afternoon silence alone. I considered how it felt to be a disposable instrument in someone’s personal debasement fantasy.

All in all, it didn’t feel too bad.
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Old 07-22-2010, 10:01 AM   #96 (permalink)
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I had this frickin well weird and realistic dream about a zombie apocalypse last night. they was everywhere in my town and there was me, lone survivor. Then i banded together with some other survivors. and the zombies were all over the place and we had no guns. But they was weird zombies man, they didnt just attack when they saw you sometimes they'd have better things to do and we'd have to non-chalantly walk past. Then we was in a classroom, and the ****in pricks whenever we was doing anything constructive every zombie within 100 miles would bang on the door and try and eat us. why dont they go back to their flipping origami. so the dude, one dude might have been me dont remember, made some bombs using bunsen burners, but he ended up injuring the survivors and burning the blockade on the door down. Then I was alone again. Running through the town, some zombies chasing, some looking unamused and bored. Then somehow, I used the bunsen burner in collabaration with an old nuke at the old military site. You know the one. the old military site. Blew it up, killing everyone, survivors and all. Ironically the zombies seemed immune or at least resistant to the flames, at first. There was a thin corridor of safe unburnt ground I was running down, with zombie jumping out of the flames. Then the flames ended. Everythings burnt down and dead, zombies gone. Everyone else gone. Dont remember if i survived I just remember seeing the scene, like watching a film, then I woke up.

made me realise that despite all my elaborate zombie plans, if it ever actually happend, i'd probably sit in the corner and cry whilst simultaneously wetting my pants.
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Old 07-22-2010, 10:43 AM   #97 (permalink)
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i had this dream when i was about 12 or 13

in one of my dreams i had to get to a class that looked like it was in a real small fancy Japanese hut and i had to get in before the sunlight touched the door of the hut inside there was a lady teaching something (not sure what) but someone got an answer wrong (or something like that) and she turned into a 2-d sea monster lady attached to a pirate ship (the ship was small because she was still the same height), so we ran out of the schoolhouse as fast as possible and we ran down a hall (most of the dream was in a fuedal japanese garden setting (there was no roofs to any of the buiding except for the sea monster lady's hut (i think)) we walked down this hall and these girls were talking about some sort of strange disease going around, basically if an infected person touched you you died. but no one knew who was infected. we ran around hiding from eachother running from eachother and people we might think are infected,suddenly this old man appears he touches me i faint (i know fainting in a dream doesn't make much sense) i wake up in what i assumed was the principal's office and there was this one kid with a wrinkly face and he shivering and sobbing but with a blank stare at the wall. i exited the room (into the short hall) and this girl with some ninja get up shows up at the other end of the hall and she start running at me with swords ready to cut me up, a jump up onto the rafter (there was no roof or ceiling but there was rafters) and a ran across them and she went right under me i saw someone and for some reason i tackled him to the ground) we got up and went to the lunch room as if nothing had happened (still not sure why). in the lunchroom (with no ceiling of course and it was missing an entire wall) the lunch lady talked to some kid next to me in line he got out some contraption with over 30 holes in the tray, then the lunch lady gave him a ball of meat? and he seperate them out into circular slices each one was seperate through a hole and hit the floor while some dog picked them up with it's mouth... and then i woke up

__________________________________________________ ____

this is the oldest dream i remember that i've ever had ( i had it when i was 4 or 5)

basically i was in the middle of my living room and my dad had a giant stopwatch a dinosaur fossil t-rex came thru the door (like the one from night at the museum) and my dad clicked the stopwatch and the fossil started chasing me thru the house i ran upstairs to the bathroom and shut the door, i could hear the fossil coming up the stairs but it went for my bedroom i opened the bathroom door and ran downstairs, the fossil was close behind, i ran around my dad his eyes were fixed to the watch, i screamed for his help his eyes were still fixed on the watch, i ran upstairs once again to my bedroom but i hid under the bed, the dinosaurs was right on my tail but he didn't notice me under the bed when he got in my room he went thru my closet, i ran downstairs the dinosaur was quick to follow my dad still just standing there emotionless, i ran into the living room and hid in a toy chest (which apparently had no toys in it) and i was hoping once again the dino wouldn't be smart enough to look in the place i was hiding but a hand open the chest my dad he clicked the stopwatch and the dino went in the eat me... then i woke up
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