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I find it humerous that union folks negotiate by threatening to walk off of the job rather than using their terribly high salaries to purchase stock and use their voting rights as shareholders to create the change, instead of demanding it

Hi everyone. Had a 2002 Z28. Had a 1996 LT4 Corvette. Currently have a mildly modded 2006 TralilBlazer SS. The SS spun a rod bearing last year and had an entire engine rebuild done by IPS Motorsports. Added a mild cam and a double roller while it was apart. http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6086/6076938181_f19ba9beeb.jpg Untitled by Torsh6363, on Flickr

Sorry, no group rates. As it is, I've priced it very close to cost. Any lower and I'd be losing money. See, it's based on oil prices. Crude has jumped 30% in the last few years. Of course I can refer you to testimonials from previous clients. For the sake of privacy, of course, I can't give you their names. However, here is a thumbnail sketch of their stories: http://i355.photobucket.com/albums/r445/martyr65/dalai-lama_5312.jpg This poor, unfortunate foreign guy had a dreamworld populated with small furry animals. But they were evil, not unlike the rabbits in Monty Python's Holy Grail movies. He was terrorized. Utterly a wreck. Then he came to me to interpret his dream for him. I did, and I understand he's gone on to reclaim the happiness he'd lost. He's a monk with some religious group, I'm told. Makes the big bucks, travels a lot. http://i355.photobucket.com/albums/r445/martyr65/brad-pitt-bloody-nose.jpg This poor schmuck repeatedly dreamt that a slug had crawled into his nose and was eating into his brain. He picked his nose constantly, even to the point of bleeding. His last psychiatrist gave him a bicycle helmet to strap on his face to remind him not to pick his nose, but that didn't work. Two sessions with Doc and the mystery of his nightmares was solved. He's never had another. He went on to a career in TV or acting or something. He credits his confidence in dating beautiful women to those two sessions of therapy he had with me. http://i355.photobucket.com/albums/r445/martyr65/imagesCA7NEON2.jpg This patient I'll never forget. He came into my office and announced, "I have a dream!" I told him he ain't no Martin Luther King, just have a seat ..... the session don't start till your credit card confirmation comes back. Ended up, he didn't need dream therapy at all. He had undiagnosed narcolepsy. I put him on some meds so he could stay awake more than 10 minutes at a stretch and now I hear he's gone on to some cushy job as a public official. So .......... don't think of it as spending 34 large ...... think of it as an investment in your future!

Where do you get one? Sir, here is a signed check. Write down any number and that is what I will pay for that helmet.

All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathroom. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience: 0.Occupied 1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one. 2.Poo on seat. 3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat. 4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet. Clearly, it had to be Stall #1. I trudged back, entered, dropped Trousers and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful Pooper. I wasn't happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot. I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. S was blathering to Mrs. S about the crappy day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier. Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder in one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently. - Once my butt cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent: (1) The next-door conversation had ceased; (2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and (3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench. It was as if a gateway to heck had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence. "Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with the suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??" Next door I could hear fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up... in my mouth.... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching. - Alas, it is evidently difficulty to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by a string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet. After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth. As I left, I glanced to the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know. I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has manged to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.

Go pro is sold

Made it out to the GP weekend at Indy again this year and had a blast. The event was bigger and better than ever. The re-surfaced infield seemed to be a hit with the riders after they got some rubber down, and the races wound up being pretty good. Fortunately I was able to score paddock access, so we had some awesome opportunities to see/meet some of the riders. Valentino Rossi through T8: Ben Spies in T6 - He had a really bad start during the race, but his move through the field to take the podium was nothing short of amazing: Casey Stoner getting really low in T8: Stoner in T6: Nicky talking with his mechanics: Rossi in T6 The famous VR46 'package adjustment' leaving the pits during qualifying: The tribute they had to Gary Nixon and Barry Sheen was very well done: Elias' mechanics doing some test runs on his bike: Stoner's garage: Nicky coming through T8 during Qualifying - He had a really tough weekend, but I think it speaks a lot about him that he got back on the track and finished the race on Sunday: Moto2 race winner Marquez: Lots more at My SmugMug.

See if he has a bike and sign him up for ORDN and then lets plan a shoot

you are truly a free man.

I wear whatever i want and ride how i want also. I bought my bike pay for my insurance. I could care less what anyone on here thinks everyone is going to have their opinions i think theres a difference between ridin wheelies on a public road and full out stunting on a public road. If you start endangering other peoples safety thats when your taking it to far in my oppinion

1. E39 BMW M5 2. 2000 Shelby Durango 3. 1965 Pontiac GTO Hurst Edition 4. Audi S5 Manual 5. Volvo 850 R

I'll leave if you would like ......

But shouldn't he have died? He did have his helmet on.. Doesn't that like break necks and stuff? JW.

I'll PM you the info as soon as I can get it if it's OK with you Bowdog. No problem at all, like i said i will be with him tonight so can probably have you an answer by morning. If its later than today thats not a big deal just get it to me when you can and i will have him run it.

is it too late to hop into this gang bang?

i watched my almost 60 years old, computer illiterate, not very good at speaking/reading/writing english dad monkey around with the ipad we got him. he fucking smiled and giggled, and it made it all worth while. if you met my dad, you would know why this is a very rare and treasured moment. then i converted the interface to korean so he could actually understand what it said on the thing and then he punched me in the face.

I am a new member to CR. I have designed and built bodies and paint schemes for the race cars for years but just started in the race side since retirement. I have an 88 Fox body convertible that I am going to drop a 04 Cobra SVT with an aluminum block and supercharger in. Has anyone done this that might be able to give some advice when needed? I know there are alot of Mustang fanatics out there that might be able to help. r

Not really new, but haven't logged in since 08! So I figured I'd reintroduce myself, last time I was on here I had a 99 olds intrigue, since then I had a 93 integra Gsr, currently have a 93 civic hatchback and a 04 dodge Srt-4... From Chillicothe

Hi I'm Ellis I'm 19 I drive an 04 Tiburon with intake, headers, and exhaust. I take classes at Columbus State, I'm pretty much joining because, I want to learn more about cars of all types, and i have a couple friends already on here that want me to join. http://img217.imageshack.us/img217/9049/2011083110415156.jpg http://img10.imageshack.us/img10/975/20110831110703783.jpg