holy (frank) you're like a girl.

McKibbins on Bishop tomorrow night around game time.


guys, I don't really own the place so anyone who wants to come is welcome.
- dt99999

Decided to go to New York to the weekend to ensure I wouldn't be tempted by your invitation come tomorrow night.

He played like a (frank)ing Richard all game long.
- Pecafan Fan

He plays like that all the time. This game was not an exception. Someone, eventually, is going to fist-(frank) his face.

I'm not sure. Is DT my mom or my mother-in-law?

Decided to go to New York to the weekend to ensure I wouldn't be tempted by your invitation come tomorrow night.
- _nay_

it's really the only reason we're actually going through with it.

when a post is long and boring... let's get 3M's take on it.
- dt99999

I have the most hilarious story to tell you.

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 48 hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of colon 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 for the wife. 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 bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:

1. Occupied.

2. Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.

3. **** smeared on seat.

4. **** and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.

5. No toilet paper, no stall door, something growing near base of toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall #2. I trudged back, entered, dropped the trousers and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful ****ter. 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. ****ter was blathering to Mrs. ****ter about the ****ty 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 *** 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 with 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 the 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 Hell 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 suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"

Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.

Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal 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 difficult 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 string of swear words and gags. My ****-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

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 into 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 managed to transfer my shamefulness to my anonymous ****-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to **** in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in a bathroom. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.

I have the most hilarious story to tell you.

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 48 hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of colon 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 for the wife. 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 bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:

1. Occupied.

2. Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.

3. **** smeared on seat.

4. **** and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.

5. No toilet paper, no stall door, something growing near base of toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall #2. I trudged back, entered, dropped the trousers and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful ****ter. 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. ****ter was blathering to Mrs. ****ter about the ****ty 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 *** 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 with 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 the 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 Hell 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 suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"

Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.

Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal 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 difficult 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 string of swear words and gags. My ****-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

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 into 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 managed to transfer my shamefulness to my anonymous ****-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to **** in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in a bathroom. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.
- 3M

Cross domain management operations, Software as a Service (SaaS)-based network management and performance service level agreements in cloud monitoring are expected to redefine traditional networks.

Moreover, increased network complexity, converging technologies and growing implementation of virtualization are expected to transform network technologies, tools and practices. Virtual networking installed as part of server virtualization will also progressively influence network managers. The introduction and accessibility of external cloud services for rooting Information Technology (IT) solutions has a direct impact on management.

The network management market is growing faster than expected which is evident from the recent acquisitions of Meraki by Cisco, Zyrion by Kaseya and Dartware by Help/Systems. Key players such as Cisco and Juniper Networks offer management products and services for enterprises, service providers, and commercial networks.

This report analyzes global adoption trends, future growth potential, key drivers, restraints, opportunities, and best practices in the network management market. The report also examines growth potential market sizes and revenue forecasts across different regions as well as industry verticals. The research is a comprehensive study of the global market for network management.

Scope of the Report

Solutions

- Network performance monitoring and management
- IP Address Management (IPAM)
- Network traffic management
- Network device management
- Network configuration management
- Network security management
- Others

For more information please click on:
http://www.researchandmar..._market_performance_monit

Title Index:

1 Introduction
1.1 Key Take-Aways
1.2 Report Description
1.3 Markets Covered
1.4 Stakeholders
1.5 Research Methodology

2 Executive Summary
2.1 Abstract
2.2 Overall Market Size

3 Market Overview
3.1 Market Definition
3.2 Market Evolution
3.3 Market Segmentation
3.4 Market Dynamics
3.5 Value Chain
3.6 Primer Markets

4 Market Size And Forecast By Solutions
4.1 Introduction
4.2 Network Performance Monitoring And Management
4.3 Ip Address Management
4.4 Network Traffic Management
4.5 Network Device Management
4.6 Network Configuration Management
4.7 Network Security Management
4.8 Others

5 Market Size And Forecast By Services
5.1 Introduction
5.2 Consulting
5.3 Integration
5.4 Support
5.5 Others

6 Market Size And Forecast By Users
6.1 Introduction
6.2 Small And Medium-Sized Businesses
6.3 Large Enterprises

7 Market Size And Forecast By Verticals
7.1 Introduction
7.2 Government
7.3 Education And Academia
7.4 Defense
7.5 Hospitality
7.6 Telecom And It
7.7 Oil And Gas
7.8 Energy And Utility
7.9 Transportation And Logistics
7.10 Manufacturing
7.11 Retail And Consumer Goods
7.12 Banking, Financial Services And Insurance (BFSI)
7.13 Media And Entertainment
7.14 Healthcare
7.15 Others

8 Market Size And Forecast By Regions
8.1 Introduction
8.2 North America
8.3 Europe
8.4 Asia-Pacific
8.5 Middle East And Africa
8.6 Latin America

9 Market Landscape
9.1 Competitive Landscape
9.2 End User Landscape

10 Company Profiles (Mnm View, Overview, Products & Services, Financials, Swot Analysis And Strategy & Analyst Insights)*
10.1 Alcatel-Lucent
10.2 Aruba Networks, Inc.
10.3 Avaya Inc.
10.4 BMC Software, Inc
10.5 Brocade Communications Systems, Inc
10.6 Ca Technologies
10.7 Cisco Systems, Inc.
10.8 Dell
10.9 EMC Corporation
10.1 Hewlett Packard
10.11 IBM Corp.
10.12 Juniper Networks, Inc.
10.13 Netscout Systems, Inc.
10.14 Network Management Group, Inc.
10.15 Sciencelogic, Inc.

*Details On Marketsandmarkets View, Overview, Products & Services, Financials, Swot Analysis And Strategy & Analyst Insights Might Not Be Captured In Case Of Unlisted Companies.
10.16 Key Innovators

Appendix (Page No. - 200)
Mergers And Acquisitions
Venture Capital
Social Reach

Pricing:

Electronic (Single User): EUR 3518
Electronic (1 - 5 Users): EUR 4275
Electronic (Site License): EUR 5410
Electronic (Enterprisewide): EUR 6809

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3] Order by mail: Print an Order form from http://www.researchandmar..._market_performance_monit and post to Research and Markets, Guinness Center, Taylors Lane, Dublin 8. Ireland.



Thank you for your consideration.

Best Regards,

it's really the only reason we're actually going through with it.
- dt99999

hey yo i'm in

hey yo i'm in
- mr.peanut

in for what, you;re currently involved in more than one discussion external to this realm.


be more precise

in for what, you;re currently involved in more than one discussion external to this realm.


be more precise
- dt99999

i'll re post in the appropriate realm

i'll re post in the appropriate realm
- mr.peanut

ty

something about camel toe ?
- Rayven

calme toé = camel toe !!!

Love it

There have been new developments.


Howard and I will be present via Skype.

holy (frank) you're like a girl.

McKibbins on Bishop tomorrow night around game time.


guys, I don't really own the place so anyone who wants to come is welcome.
- dt99999

So, just to be clear about this, if I show up.... you're the guy with the red sock on his head right?

I have the most hilarious story to tell you.

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 48 hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of colon 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 for the wife. 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 bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:

1. Occupied.

2. Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.

3. **** smeared on seat.

4. **** and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.

5. No toilet paper, no stall door, something growing near base of toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall #2. I trudged back, entered, dropped the trousers and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful ****ter. 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. ****ter was blathering to Mrs. ****ter about the ****ty 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 *** 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 with 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 the 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 Hell 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 suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"

Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.

Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal 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 difficult 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 string of swear words and gags. My ****-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

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 into 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 managed to transfer my shamefulness to my anonymous ****-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to **** in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in a bathroom. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.
- 3M

Your best post ever

So, just to be clear about this, if I show up.... you're the guy with the red sock on his head right?
- Scabeh

dude just look for the table with the biggest losers



if there's a girl within 6 feet of the table, it's the wrong table

when a post is long and boring... let's get 3M's take on it.
- dt99999

dude just look for the table with the biggest losers



if there's a girl within 6 feet of the table, it's the wrong table
- dt99999

dude just look for the table with the biggest losers



if there's a girl within 6 feet of the table, it's the wrong table
- dt99999

Will there be a hockeybuzz flag on the table?

Or should I just look for a fat and bald Alec Baldwin?

So, just to be clear about this, if I show up.... you're the guy with the red sock on his head right?
- Scabeh

you'll recognize Dan because as soon as you get there, someone will walk up to you and ask if you have a smoke...that man will be Dan.

EDIT: if that doesn't happen...just look for someone waiting on the wrong side of the street...

dude just look for the table with the biggest losers



if there's a girl within 6 feet of the table, it's the wrong table
- dt99999

you'll recognize Dan because as soon as you get there, someone will walk up to you and ask if you have a smoke...that man will be Dan.

EDIT: if that doesn't happen...just look for someone waiting on the wrong side of the street...
- number_23

lol

This whole BatKid thing by Make-a-Wish foundation is the best thing ever.

This whole BatKid thing by Make-a-Wish foundation is the best thing ever.
- Pecafan Fan

huh?

This whole BatKid thing by Make-a-Wish foundation is the best thing ever.
- Pecafan Fan

lol yeah it's pretty awesome.

huh?
- number_23

A kid battling leukaemia wanted to be Batman for a day. And they made it happen.

https://twitter.com/SFWish