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Messages - Mesozoic Mister Nigel

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31636
Why the hell did I post that in this thread? :? Complete random non-sequitur. I think I thought I was posting in Open Bar. That's what I get for being up early...

31637
Discordian Recipes / Re: Add your eccentric food habits/tips/quirks here!
« on: September 16, 2011, 02:59:17 pm »
What Twid said. I also don't think there's a problem with having preferences or not liking something because of texture or similar.

Of course you don't, cracker. :lulz:
Don't you deal with that sort of thing for a living?



Not anymore! Now my menu consists of two choices: take it or leave it.

And before, when I was subjected to the indignities of running a restaurant kitchen, most of the front of the house staff new better than to come to me with requests based on pickiness as my usual response would be something along the lines of "well if they can't find anything on the fucking menu that they fucking like, maybe they should go the fuck somewhere else!"

This does not apply to actual allergies, I have all of the sensitivity in the world about that and will go way out of my way to be accommodating. But when someone wants this dish but without this or that component because they really just don't like those? Well fuck the fuck you, cocksmoker, either find a dish that your picky ass DOES like or go to fucking Wendy's.

BLESS YOU, SIR.

My best friend is deathly allergic to certain tree nuts, and all bivalves. She once went into anaphylactic shock at work because the "peanuts" sprinkled on the Thai noodles in the cafeteria were actually chopped mixed nuts. Her face and tongue swelled up after kissing her boyfriend, who had hours before had a cookie that had walnuts in it. It's very, very important that she not be exposed to tree nuts. Luckily, she can, and will, eat just about anything else that comes her way, and is damn fucking grateful for it.

I have another friend who is a Celiac, and can't have any wheat at all or his insides will start eating themselves.

Then there is the LEGIONS of friends who have recently jumped on the gluten-free and food allergy bandwagon because they found an itchy spot or they feel sluggish after too much pasta, who give themselves permission to "cheat" if they want something badly enough, but otherwise make a huge deal about all the things they "can't" eat.

Oh, so I have to make gravy with rice flour, so that you can save your daily gluten allotment for a cookie? Fuck you!

These people really chap my hide. Because they give the world at large the impression that someone who is seriously allergic ("cheating" at all would make either of my aforementioned friends seriously ill, if not dead) can still just have a little as long as they don't notice it. Just a LITTLE pecan flour on the chicken won't hurt, right?

I have another friend who is, sorrow of sorrows, allergic to onions. Needless to say, people assume that she just doesn't like them, but she really just can't have them at all because they make her very unpleasantly sick. She solves this problem, mostly, by not eating anywhere but at home, and has never once made an issue about it.

The people who don't like this and that, and who have rules about what's "gross" and what should "never be done" because they think a food is disgusting, make me want to go into a whirlwind slap-fest. It's one thing if they apply their picky picky princess standards to themselves, but the ones who go about judging and ewwwwing at what other people eat truly make me want to punch a bitch in the face. It's not, actually, cute to be a brat.

31638
Every morning I get up at 7 am to make the little offsprings sack lunches and see them off to school.

Why do I do this? They appear not care.

31639
Drove home last night in the middle of a dust storm that was colliding with a rain storm.

Visibility about 3 inches.

Dok,
Drives using the force as his guide, stops for nothing.

You know, I have seen both the dust storms and the rain storms there, and that is a HORRIFYING image.

31640
I had to do something.

I had a visual of the wildlife fleeing their nests in Dok's back hair.

It hurt so much, I had to share.

 :horrormirth:

31641
Or Kill Me / Re: Stories for the soul eater
« on: September 16, 2011, 02:31:36 pm »
Thank you. :)

31642
Discordian Recipes / Re: Add your eccentric food habits/tips/quirks here!
« on: September 16, 2011, 06:15:16 am »
I love how white people are super-into telling everyone about food they don't like or can't eat because the taste/texture/smell makes them feel sick.

Also how they are gluten and lactose intolerant and can't have certain vegetables because it makes them gassy

and how they are delicate fragile flowers who must be coddled and pampered like the jewels of the animal kingdom.

Fucking hell. This is not the "foods my picky white ass passes judgement on" thread.

And yes, I just called you white.

I despise the food that comes prepackaged because the way it tastes makes me nauseous, unless it doesn't, and then I don't.  I refuse to eat any food that hasn't been on a stove and watched almost constantly for a period of no less than three hours, unless I don't, in which case I eat it as enthusiastically as if it had been.  

OK, you have me there. Hyper-processed food is nasty and bad for you, though if you're starving anything tastes pretty damn good. I'm not sure a distaste for nutritionally bankrupt overprocessed food really counts as "picky", though.

I was just being ridiculous. :lulz:

I might be excessively serious tonight.  :lol:

I am going to hell.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ko54l8CNk5Y

 :lulz:

31643
The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: An Observation.
« on: September 16, 2011, 03:10:33 am »
I LOVE THIS, FREEKY! :mittens:

I wish I could see Tucson right now.

Also, would you consider mailing a copy of it to you-know-who?

Absolutely!  

I want to take some pictures here in the next couple days.  I discovered that very close to here is the point where the siren calls never stop, and I only saw about fifteen feet of that.  I want to know what it looks like at the top of that hill.

 :x and then Freeky never came back.

Be careful, Freeky! This is like when people just take their shoes off and walk into the ocean.

That's probably exactly what is like, but I'm going crazy not knowing.

Carry a walkie-talkie so Dok can reach you...

31644
Discordian Recipes / Re: Add your eccentric food habits/tips/quirks here!
« on: September 16, 2011, 03:08:56 am »
I love how white people are super-into telling everyone about food they don't like or can't eat because the taste/texture/smell makes them feel sick.

Also how they are gluten and lactose intolerant and can't have certain vegetables because it makes them gassy

and how they are delicate fragile flowers who must be coddled and pampered like the jewels of the animal kingdom.

Fucking hell. This is not the "foods my picky white ass passes judgement on" thread.

And yes, I just called you white.

I despise the food that comes prepackaged because the way it tastes makes me nauseous, unless it doesn't, and then I don't.  I refuse to eat any food that hasn't been on a stove and watched almost constantly for a period of no less than three hours, unless I don't, in which case I eat it as enthusiastically as if it had been.  

OK, you have me there. Hyper-processed food is nasty and bad for you, though if you're starving anything tastes pretty damn good. I'm not sure a distaste for nutritionally bankrupt overprocessed food really counts as "picky", though.

I was just being ridiculous. :lulz:

I might be excessively serious tonight.  :lol:

31645
Who ever invented deep fried twinkies deserves an award

IIRC, it was some spag from Puyallup.

Which makes total sense to anybody who's ever been unlucky enough to go to Puyallup.

The Puyallup Fair is widely touted as the best county fair in Washington State.


31646
Discordian Recipes / Re: Add your eccentric food habits/tips/quirks here!
« on: September 16, 2011, 02:39:14 am »
I love how white people are super-into telling everyone about food they don't like or can't eat because the taste/texture/smell makes them feel sick.

Also how they are gluten and lactose intolerant and can't have certain vegetables because it makes them gassy

and how they are delicate fragile flowers who must be coddled and pampered like the jewels of the animal kingdom.

Fucking hell. This is not the "foods my picky white ass passes judgement on" thread.

And yes, I just called you white.

I despise the food that comes prepackaged because the way it tastes makes me nauseous, unless it doesn't, and then I don't.  I refuse to eat any food that hasn't been on a stove and watched almost constantly for a period of no less than three hours, unless I don't, in which case I eat it as enthusiastically as if it had been.  

OK, you have me there. Hyper-processed food is nasty and bad for you, though if you're starving anything tastes pretty damn good. I'm not sure a distaste for nutritionally bankrupt overprocessed food really counts as "picky", though.

31647
Or Kill Me / Stories for the soul eater
« on: September 16, 2011, 02:29:06 am »
A very long time ago, in a forested area that is just to the southeast of what was once the continentís largest city, a young woman lived in the outskirts of a village. It was an unimportant village, and people there mostly avoided the war and politicking that went on in more populated areas, living their lives as they had for many generations, hunting, farming, loving, worshipping, weaving, and having the same petty intrigues and gossip and fallings-out that people have always had; raising their children, tending their elders, and growing close to friends, spending hours in the evenings talking with each other. This is when people still knew how to talk and how to listen, and how to not mind the silences that fell when everyone was beginning to get tired and reflect on what had been said.

The woman was brown and strong and healthy, with dark brown eyes and thick black hair and a strong high nose like the eyes and hair and noses of the other women in the village, and she lived on the outskirts because she was a priestess. She had large white teeth and smiled often. Her primary job was to perform the duties associated with the transfer of souls from death to underworld and from underworld to birth. Her altar was no more than a pale stone slab that lay on the ground, and her temple was a simple arch. Her position as priestess was hereditary, and her father, also a priest, taught her the rites of death and birth. The village was healthy, and she was happy. She became pregnant, and this was a blessing which made her even happier.

Her son was the most beautiful baby she had ever seen, with her same wavy thick black hair and curly eyelashes, and his eyes were like obsidian mirrors. She loved him fiercely, with every part of her being, and as he grew, and his eyes lightened to a deep brown, they spent many hours playing together in the forest near the altar, where she taught him to be as observant and fluent of the language of the plants and small wildlife as she had been taught by her own father and mother. She taught him about the frogs and the insects, the pronghorns and the wrens. Life was right and good for the young woman with her village and beloved villagers, her parents, and her beautiful son.

I donít know how she died; possibly of infection from a wound, possibly of complications from another pregnancy. It seemed important at the time, but it really isnít. Her grieving father performed the rites of death, showing her son for the first time how to prepare the dark-green leaves from a certain small tree into a drink that would help him to channel the god who carries souls from the dead to the underworld in his belly, to wait to be assigned by the wife of Death to a newborn body.

The young priest had few friends; he had needed none, because he was still at an age where his best friend was his mother. He was small and slight and had not yet developed an interest in girls. Despite the attention of his grandparents, he was now alone, and profoundly lonely.

Some months after his motherís death, among the other births, a baby girl was born in the village, and not long after she was born, he looked past her curly lashes into her obsidian mirror eyes.

After that, they were inseparable. They had an arrangement. How fortunate that their Goddess was the Goddess of assigning souls! Usually they would be husband and wife. Sometimes she would precede him into death and he would be her grandfather for a while, laughing at her toddler antics as she played around his feet. Sometimes he would be the teacher and she the student, sometimes they would be siblings, but they were always together. It wasnít always a kind life; there was pain and strife and suffering. But in the village, it was mostly a clean and straightforward life. They were together this way for over three hundred years.

Until the last time. I donít know what happened; perhaps he was bound or killed or taken away. Perhaps the magic that allowed them to find each other was broken. Perhaps he was protecting her from something, because often the most painful mistakes men make are the ones that are meant to be for the good of the ones they love. But whatever happened, the last time, he did not call the soul-eater god to carry her into the underworld in his belly. He was not waiting for her, and he did not come back. She waited for him, and waited until the waiting became despair and the despair became bitterness. Lost in confusion and sorrow, she didnít notice at first that around her the happy village that she loved faded and died away. The old rites were no longer practiced, and her altar and arch became forgotten and overgrown. The gold and blue paint that once represented the wings of the goddess of rebirth was long gone. When the time came that no more babies were born in the village, she couldnít wait any longer.

After a while, no one would know there had ever been a village there, not even the builders when they came to put up row after row of blank red houses for the new civilization that had no priestesses at all.

The once-young-woman lived now in a world where true partnership between sexes was mostly forgotten, if not forbidden, and she knew that this world was poisonous. It had eaten her old world. She made herself forget her village and her mate, her abandonment and anger. She even, mostly, forgot that she had been a priestess. Far away from the happy days of playing among the trees, she found other loves, had children, and at times she was even content. Sometimes, though, the pain of loss and loneliness would bubble up from a place deeper than memory, strong enough to pin her to the ground.

There is a story that Deathís wife, her pride wounded over her husbandís infidelity, killed him and took his mantle, hiding her feathered wings beneath it and assuming his duties alongside her own, and that this is why men, afraid, stopped working together with women and forgot that the goddess had once been their mother.

31648
Or Kill Me / Re: Septembers with song
« on: September 16, 2011, 02:23:24 am »
Sounds right to me.

31649
The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: An Observation.
« on: September 16, 2011, 02:22:20 am »
I LOVE THIS, FREEKY! :mittens:

I wish I could see Tucson right now.

Also, would you consider mailing a copy of it to you-know-who?

Absolutely!  

I want to take some pictures here in the next couple days.  I discovered that very close to here is the point where the siren calls never stop, and I only saw about fifteen feet of that.  I want to know what it looks like at the top of that hill.

 :x and then Freeky never came back.

Be careful, Freeky! This is like when people just take their shoes off and walk into the ocean.

31650
You did have to post this as I'm trying to finish off my day. 

 :argh!:


I just can't understand it, Dok.  Why did the Enlightenment fail?

Because it was only a fad to begin with.  Two million years of beating on log drums vs less than 500 years of progress.  It couldn't fucking last, especially when Europe had the BRILLIANT idea of dumping all the religious nuts in one place, and then letting that place take charge of everything.  It would be like feeding an infant lead every day, and then letting him drive the car when he turned 6.

This whole fucking planet is retarded.  I can't fucking stand it. 

Kind of makes you miss log drums, doesn't it?

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