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2012 Pit Olympics Standings **Updated after PGT**

Yea, take that, Australia and Fiji.
 
Cumulative Totals after Hollywood
Poland- 38.25
Australia- 19.75
Oklahoma- 36
Rome- 42.25
Fiji- 31.25
Greece- 41.75
China- 55.625
Germany- 25.375
 
Still early though, I can only imagine those multipliers are gonna get bigger, and the comps from here on out don't necessarily play to our strengths.
 
Don't know about the rest of you fellas, but I'm getting a real kick out of this whole Olympics thing Ricky has going here.

Foxy always did enjoy the Olympics, ever since his fling with the Diesel Diva. Double-D drove big rigs – if you ever had the occasion to find yourself battling one of those treacherous bastards of an Appalachian roadway between the hours of midnight and 6 am from 1957-1971, you may have encountered the Diesel Diva hauling petrol in her trusty semi, Gas Hog.

As the story goes, the Diesel Diva – call sign “Mudflap” – took home the gold medal in the clean-and-jerk event at the 1955 US Olympic Trials and was all set to represent the good ol' US of A in the '56 Melbourne Games. Alas, just weeks before she was set to head Down Under, Double-D busted a wing when a jack gave out and a 1954 Plymouth Savoy crashed down on her while the poor broad was swapping out a coil spring on the suspension. Knocked her right out of the Games. A blow for her, and for America.

It was at that point that Mudflap entered the long haul business and, over the next decade and a half, earned her reputation in the industry as the Diesel Diva. Although she had cut back on lifting and was past her prime by the time she crossed paths with Foxy, make no mistake – this broad was still a brawny beast. Veins bulging and twitching from thick muscles like a moccasin snake slithering under a throw rug. Built like a bank vault. Unlike a bank vault, however, Double-D was highly penetrable, as the Fiesta Fox quickly discovered.

Foxy met Mudflap one night at that rest stop up on Highway 52 near Pilot Mountain. Times were tight for the Reynolds Raiders those days on account that Peaches had gotten a hold of and gobbled a whole 30-ounce tub of margarine. That little doozy required a trip to the emergency vet and a shockingly large bill that we Raiders agreed to share equally, seeing as how the incident occurred while all of us were zoned out on stumblers.

To make a few bones, Foxy trekked up to his normal spot at the rest stop to burp his worm for some gentlemen truckers. After 4 knuckling sessions netted him 4 crisp $10 greenbacks, Ricky discovered that his pecker wasn’t the only thing out of gas. Fortunately, Double-D had just pulled into that rest stop to deposit a chocolate pumpkin, and was conveniently headed south back towards Mother So Dear, so she agreed to give Foxy a ride.

Of course, she and Foxy hit it off immediately. As you are all no doubt aware, Ricky has that special cool about him – relaxed and confident, like a stately old mountain lion who has seen all the hills have to offer and has no worries about finding his next meal. It probably helped too that Foxy himself is abnormally strong, boasting strength like the retarded fella in that “Goonies” flick. He wasn’t intimidated by Mudflap’s physique.

Anyway, as Foxy told it, they soon settled into a nice pattern of some pretty athletic screwing, really giving it to each other hard and taking advantage of both their mutual power and Double-D’s bountiful supply of axle grease. I’m telling you, the noises coming from that bedroom were exhausting – sounded like a pair of lumberjacks timbering a hemlock forest with a two-man crosscut saw.

Only catch is that Mudflap had a thing for choking that Foxy never could get behind. While he would gladly assist if a dame needed to see stars to help her climax, he couldn’t submit to Double-D’s desire to hitch a nylon rope to his gullet and strangle him until the point of his alabaster release. I reckon it’s attributable to his experience as a youngster when he snuck out of his crate, wandered down to the local junkyard, and got himself trapped in an old Frigidaire. Doctors estimated that little Ricky’s brain went without oxygen for 78 minutes. As a result, Foxy’s always been prudish about restricting his air supply, even while laying pipe to a buxom bird like Mudflap.

Since Foxy and Double-D never could quite see eye-to-eye on her bedroom preference, their fling was short-lived. They parted ways and she returned to the open road. Wasn’t much later that the Diesel Diva met a tragic end. Seems she was traveling some dark highway up in the hill country of eastern Kentucky when she decided to strap a belt to her neck and do the two finger taco tango while driving. Coroner figured she got carried away and lost consciousness. Gas Hog ended up careening off the side of a mountain and plunging some 500 feet to the mossy forest floor. Apparently it was quite a scene, as all that fuel lit a wildfire that took out half the goddamned holler.

I remember finding out and wondering how I would ever tell Ricky the terrible news. What type of reaction would I get? Stunned disbelief? Tears? Would he cry out to the heavens, demanding of Yahweh to know why the good had to die young? Turns out when the moment came and I slowly relayed the details of the calamity, Ricky just looked at me, nodded thoughtfully, and after a moment, smiled and remarked, “sounds like a helluva way to go.” I shouldn’t have been surprised. The glass is always half full when you’re the Fiesta Fox.
 
I'm not worthy to use Harv's name in a story. OMG. :bowrofl:
 
He's right. Harv is funny, but you guys act like it is the funniest stuff ever said and/or written. And he simply isn't that.

I do like how the originator of Harv does pick his/her spots to post tho. Full kudos for that.
 
Name a poster consistently funnier than Harv.
 
I'm not sure of funnier things posted on the boards.
 
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Way overrated....got old fast and just not my type of "humor".
 
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