Korean Job Discussion Forums

Czarjorge · Posted: Tue Feb 19, 2008 11:07 pm Post subject:

You can and do know how to do stuntman tequila shots. You arrange a massive, Evil Kenevil (sp?) spectacle where you will do shots of tequila increasing in size from one ounce to 100 in one hour. You make it up to the 20 oz. shot with no problem, but the lime chaser gets stuck in your throat and you begin to choke. Your safety people rush in to aid you and they successfully save your life. The crowd, full of hard drinkers, is disgusted with your failure. The start throwing empty glass shot glasses at you and progress to bottles and chairs. You are too drunk to protect yourself and take a severe blow to the head. You are concussed, but too drunk to stay awake. You slip into a coma for twenty years. When you wake up and drag yourself out of the hospital you find a world overrun by zombies, and with no tequila.

I wish I had two sleeves worth of awesome tattoos.

blurgalurgalurga · Joined: 18 Oct 2007

You do have two sleeves worth of awesome tattoos. You got them from one of the Hawaiian guys who violated you so heinously--you waited until he was passed out from too much hukilau-ing and tequila, and then you stole his heavily tattooed arm-skins. You got them off with a paring knife. That'll show him! You make his sleeves into a kite.
You are down on the beach one day happily flying your tattoo-sleeve windsock when the other Hawaiian boys find you. Their revenge is too hideous to recount here in detail, so I will hope it suffices to note that it involves a baby hammerhead shark, forty pounds of chum bait, a block-and-tackle, and your colon.

I wish everybody in the world had 'the Hukilau Song' stuck in their head FOREVER.* (Sorry, I'm bitter now, as my wishes have been corrupted so heinously lately I feel I have no alternative but to devote my wishes to Evil.)

*You can listen to it here... http://www.justsouthpark.com/episodes/episode.php?episode=410
It's season 4, episode 10, at about the 1:40 mark.

karma police · Posted: Wed Feb 20, 2008 12:43 am Post subject:

shetan · Joined: 24 Apr 2006 Location: In front of my PC.

Stuntman Tequila or (hard man tequila)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tequila_stuntman

karma police · Posted: Wed Feb 20, 2008 1:16 am Post subject:

blurgalurgalurga · Joined: 18 Oct 2007

We do, we love you. That's all. But we don't love your handsome ass.

Your handsome ass gets insanely jealous and stages a coup de tat.
It severs all ties, painfully, and strikes out on its own, lookin' for lube in all the wrong places. You spend night after night looking for it, desperate to reunite. You can't track it down...but you hear disturbing rumors about it. Everywhere you go, people have seen your handsome ass, and got to know it pretty well, but you can never quite see it...you feel like it's right behind you, but as soon as you turn around, it's gone.
You hear that it has changed its name and calls itself Fonzie now, that it got married to a group of lapsed Mormons, that it's hitting the crackpipe pretty hard, that it's moved to Baltimore, that it's in jail, that it's selling itself for busfare and donuts in Hollywood...you're desperate. You miss your handsome ass SO BAD.
Finally, you find it in an emergency ward in Cleveland. It's been stabbed in a bar fight and it's dying. It's still very handsome though. It looks up at you with its glazed, bloodshot brown eye, and says, "stay gold, ponyboy..."

I wish my ass was handsomer.

karma police · Posted: Wed Feb 20, 2008 2:03 am Post subject:

blurgalurgalurga · Joined: 18 Oct 2007

Your secretary is pure deliciousness, creamy peanut butter and rich wonderful chocolate, and honestly its pretty hard to be around her without taking a big ol' bite off her ass.
Luckily though the temptation is soon removed. Melinda Gates is in Korea to throw some money at the Hep B problem, and by pure chance catches a whiff of your secretary's fine chocolaty goodness. Melinda asks, "hey, KP's Secretary, what's that dude paying you?" When she hears how low you're balling, Melinda offers quadruple, and your secretary bolts, and you're left all alone, with only a faint scent of how good it might've been.

I wish Fela Kuti wasn't dead.

Czarjorge · Posted: Wed Feb 20, 2008 2:02 pm Post subject:

Fela Kuti isn't dead, he's undead. Baba Yaga, that undying doctor of the voodoo arts, is a huge fan of Fela and couldn't go another day without a little AfroBeat action. Once Fela drags his bones out of the ground he and Baba wonder off to raise the rest of his dead band including Ginger, Lester, and with Ali Hassan Kuban as an opener. A huge concert concert in Lagos is held in honor of the risen Master and half of Nigeria turns out. As is typical at concerts the people at the front of the stage reach up, trying to touch the artists. In this case the zombie performers, having laid down the beats for seven continuous hours, are hungry for another part of the groupies and munch off a few fingers. Those revellers who find themselves infected then infect others in the crowd. The infection spreads across Africa, turning it into a zombie continent.

I wish I had a funny idea for a wish.

blurgalurgalurga · Joined: 18 Oct 2007

You do have a funny idea for a wish, but as soon as you start typing it you have a massive embolism and die.

I wish people would stop saying 'man up' and start saying something funny instead, like 'by the power of Greyskull,' or 'i've had all I can stand, and I can't stands no more' or 'Wondertwin powers--activate. Shape of...an ice suppository. Form of...a dog with a mysteriously Jesus-like pattern on it's bumfur.' Something like that.

Czarjorge · Posted: Fri Feb 22, 2008 12:28 am Post subject:

People do start using funnier phrases to describe the action of "manning up." There'll so funny that people can't hear all these responses enough, so people get whinier and whinier just to hear those comedic jewels. The Earth becomes a world of wusses, all just waiting to be entertained. A few tough Aussies, who never need to be told to "Thundercats assemble" slowly start exerting their control over their country. The same happens in the UK with chavs and in the US with rednecks. Every nation in their world has their single group of prickish tough guys who take control. At a reformed UN meeting, over lots of cheap crappy beer, a fight breaks out. The various sects of tough guys return to their home and stew over the perceived slights. The guys from the US, a disproportionate of them coming from the South, had things said about their mothers, something you never say to a guy from below the Mason-Dixon. After a few hours and some whiskeys buttons are pushed and the world explodes into a firey ball of death. The survivors though few and far between wonder the world bairly surviving, but their existence remains entertaining because there is so many reasons to tell each other to "grab your ankles and grin" or "Snootchy Bootchy" or "Grab the shark repellent, Batman."

I wish I was Ron Popeil and I had invented a machine to turn poop into gold.

blurgalurgalurga · Joined: 18 Oct 2007

You, Ron Popeil, have invented a machine that turns poop into gold. There's a catch though: YOU, Ron Popeil, are that machine. You are the pope of poop.
You get greedy and start eating loads of fried chicken and McD hashbrowns and bananas and wheat-a-bix and epicac. Sadly, too late, you realize that the gold you poop out is of the hot molten variety.

I wish I owned that dog with the Savior on it's butt.

Czarjorge · Posted: Fri Feb 22, 2008 1:32 am Post subject:

You down own the dog with Jesus on its rump, problem is Pope Nazinger wants the dog for himself. He sends a Vatican hit team to take you out and seize the dog. You try to run and hide, but Ratzinger has had his agents outfitted with mysterious tech devised by Nazi mad scientists the last Pope had imprisoned. The agents find you, seize the dog, and circumsize you thirteen times, and ancient Catholic ritual, leaving you only a nub.

I wish I was a spaceman from a 1950s serial.

blurgalurgalurga · Joined: 18 Oct 2007

You are Ro-Man from 'Robot Monster.' Here's you:

Problem is, you don't realize that it's all a movie. You think you actually are Ro-man. You walk around town, loaded on Red Ripple, shouting "die, Hu-mans! I am Ro-Man; yaaaarrrrrrr. Feeeear meeeee."
People give you a wide berth not just because you're dangerously crazy, but because you haven't changed your space gorilla suit since 1953. Eventually the air-holes in your suit get blocked up by scurf and vomit, and you die of carbon monoxide poisoning.

I wish I really really was Ro-Man from 'Robot Monster.' Fear me, Hu-mans! Yarrrrrr.

Czarjorge · Posted: Fri Feb 22, 2008 7:20 am Post subject:

You are Ro-Man. You wonder around town menacing humans and are surprised by their either bemused or commiserating tones when dealing with you. If you could read human you would realize that the horrible fate that befell me, Czar-Ro-Man, has been well publicized. Everyone just assumes you are some nutter in a suit and so they call the whitecoats to haul you off to the boobyhatch. Once the doctors at the mental hospital have examined you they realize you are indeed an extraterrestrial. They respond by calling in military doctors and one alien autopsy later you're a rug on the floor of the bar at Area 51.

I wish I had a beagle.