An Error Has Occurred!

[Cramulus]

Mere seconds after saying "surprise me eris" this morning, my phone rang. Oh snap, it's bill collectors informing me I'm $300 delinquent on my student loans and would I like to make a payment right now? Not fucking likely.

So putting that in the Law of Fives filter, I think Eris is teaching me a lesson, and that lesson is that I need to defer my loans and then perhaps get a new identity. Fucking Strife Goddess, always showing you your weak points.

EBS is right, this shit is crazy stupid!

[St. Everblaze the Badikal]

If this isn't the darndest thing... Starting today!  S U R P R I S E M E E R I S!

[Doktor Howl]

They're so cute, right before they get pasted into the coliche.

[-Kel-]

Um... Day one...

took out most of the quote to save space....

that was beautiful man, you should of written american psycho...hahaha.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Nice one, LMNO. 

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

Fascinatingly, I have learned via the list of names on the class-action lawsuit I'm involved in that a surprisingly large proportion of the people I know go by their middle names.

Not exactly an Eris moment, but a surprise.

[Rococo Modem Basilisk]

After crossing the deathtrap intersection, getting to the classroom, and finally getting on wifi, someone came in and announce that class was cancelled. Cell phone reception suddenly turned improbably shitty, so I couldn't make plans. Now that I've sat down in a cafe and turned on my laptop, I have the sudden urge to shit.

[NotPublished]

Holy fuck LMNO that was epic!

@Enki  Testimonial quality right there

[Pope Pixie Pickle]

I wrote a well written letter to The Times newspaper bitching about Homeopathy getting funding on the NHS whilst I wait 3 months to see a shrink, almost missed my train to meet my mum, found out that I am not entitled to buy a railcard for various discounts visiting Payne, I need a kid or to be blind, disabled or over 60 to qualify. The lady behind the counter told me I could get a young persons railcard to get the discount, but I'd need to be 5 years younger to qualify.

I met my mum, went to go collect my sister who came out bearing dim sum and she did not eat the entire box of chocolates in the car, got my entire outfit for my mums wedding sorted, including designer shirt and skinny tie,trousers and sequinned black jacket and waistcoat  a hawt summer hippy dress for £1 just cos it was cute, and on the way back I found out that my brain damaged sister is better than any sat nav! There were no arguments AT ALL and had a lulz filled car journey home. I then managed to get into
IRC for a bit, despite nothing else loading.

The surprise was having a day not involving a strop from JoJo and her awesome spatial memory despite her being brain damaged!

Maybe that says something about sat nav... 

Thanks Eris!

Day 2 should be fun.
Here's hoping my letter makes it into The Times!

[ñͤͣ̄ͦ̌̑͗͊͛͂͗ ̸̨̨̣̺̼̣̜͙͈͕̮̊̈́̈͂͛̽͊ͭ̓͆ͅé ̰̓̓́ͯ́́͞]

Um... Day one...





The blood.  Oh, fuck.  So much blood.  It's still kind of fuzzy, what happened.  Going home from work.  Jacket.  Hat.  Walk up the street to the subway, through the bitter wind, blowing like a jet engine between mirrored buildings, reflecting the stream of white collars taking the same trek.  Get through turnstile.  Avoid eye contact.  Turn up the iPod a little higher.

The train rumbles in, a gigantic mechanical cock spewing out a new load of struggling drones and duds for the evening shift, as the spent automatons shuffle through the half-broken sliding doors.  At the best of times, it's a tight fit.  You need to have a certain flexibility to weave through the packed bodies, one arm lifted like a half-assed salute to the working day.  But this was different.  The bodies were nervous, like a pack of cattle when a Mylar balloon lands in the pen.  Skittish.  They were all pressing towards the front end of the car, as if some malevolent force was pushing them away.

At the other end of the car, it looked like one of the worker bees was having a bad day.  The top two buttons on his shirt had popped off, power tie askew.  Hair that had most likely been perfectly shellacked eight hours ago was in disarray, heavy strands hanging down his forehead, and jutting up from the kind of cowlick that must have gotten him a lot of grief in middle school.  His face was twisted into a snarl, flecks of white spittle on his lower lip, and in the corners of his mouth.  I pressed forward, against the weight of the masses, to get a better look.  You could tell he was muttering something under his breath, but from where I was standing, I couldn't hear it.

His head snapped around, and he was looking straight at me.  His eyes were bloodshot; the left one brimming with a tear, which gently shimmered on his lower lid and then let go, marking a track down through the faint evidence of a five o'clock shadow.  His stare transfixed me, and I could finally make out what he was chanting under his breath.

"You-can-be-whatever-you-wanna-be-you-can-be-whatever-you-wanna-be- you-can-be-whatever-you-wanna-be- you-can-be-whatever-you-wanna-be-"

Even as his teeth ground together, those words managed to force their way through his throat.

"whatever-you-wanna-be-you-can-be-whatever-you-wanna-be- you-can-be-whatever-you-wanna-be- you-can-be-"

I glanced down at his right hand, which was clenched, white-knuckled, around the handle of a briefcase.


"you-WANNA-be-you-can-BE-whatever-you-wanna-be-YOU-can-be-whatever-you-wanna-be-you-CAN-beeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-"

The case slipped from his hand.  It seemed to fall in slow motion, drifting downward to the floor of the subway car, streaked with the film of dried coffee, sugar residue from donuts, and grease from breakfast sandwiches hastily gobbled from the morning's commute.  The edge of the case struck, and the shock broke the flimsy latches on top, security in name only.  From its depths erupted paper, whatever anonymous reports and tallies from the quarter's bookkeeping, or reports, or memos, or minutes, or spreadsheets, or contracts, or bank statements, or bills, or receipts, or tax forms, or briefs, or faxes, whatever they were, they seemed to burst forth.  But all that was forgotten when my eyes tracked back to his hand, rising upwards, fingers claw like, predatory.

With a shriek, those fingers clutched at his face, the nails digging in, and he pulled.  Tiny half-moons of crimson turned into gutters of red as he scraped down his cheek.  His left hand joined his right, tearing at his face.  His ring finger jabbed underneath one eye, now filled with terror, not tears, which disappeared with a "pop" of blood and jelly.  Two fingers caught on his lip, which tore away easily, exposing the pink gumline, white teeth stained red, a spray of blood spattering subway's car window.  His remaining eye wheeled in its socket as his fingers continued to scrape away his skin, his right hand lowering to scrabble at his neck, looking for purchase, and finding it, and stabbing, and pulling, his left hand fluttering for a moment, then joining in to help its brother, clawing, ripping, tearing at his throat, until, with a guttural, bubbling finality, his hands came away in triumph, the horrific shrieking silenced, a gaping hole where his adam's apple once quietly bobbed and swallowed, swallowed all that his life threw at him, swallowed decades of shit and abuse and deadlines and progress reports and rejection and derision and advertising and mediocrity.  His heart still beat, blood streaming and spurting from his throat.  The only sounds now were these:

A soft patter on the subway floor like raindrops on a spring day.

The wet thump as his body collapsed.

[Jasper]

Almost died on my scooter today.  It was pretty surprising.

[ñͤͣ̄ͦ̌̑͗͊͛͂͗ ̸̨̨̣̺̼̣̜͙͈͕̮̊̈́̈͂͛̽͊ͭ̓͆ͅé ̰̓̓́ͯ́́͞]

Almost died on my scooter today.  It was pretty surprising.

IZ UR SKUTER OK?
    \

[Jasper]

Almost died on my scooter today.  It was pretty surprising.

IZ UR SKUTER OK?
    \

Luckily the minivan that tried to clip me had bad aim.

[ñͤͣ̄ͦ̌̑͗͊͛͂͗ ̸̨̨̣̺̼̣̜͙͈͕̮̊̈́̈͂͛̽͊ͭ̓͆ͅé ̰̓̓́ͯ́́͞]

Almost died on my scooter today.  It was pretty surprising.

IZ UR SKUTER OK?
    \

Luckily the minivan that tried to clip me had bad aim.

I've actually looked a minivan driver in the eye a few seconds before they cut me off deliberately like it was my fault they're fat and I'm staying fit by riding my bike.

Reckless endangerment doesn't mean shit without witnesses, of course, and even then...

[Jasper]

True.  I often feel that the world should have roads above street level for two-wheelers.  Each side of the road would have a lane for motorbikes, and a lane for bicycles.  This is my utopia.