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notathing

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Re: Surprise Me Eris! A 30 Day Experiment in FAITH.
« Reply #285 on: March 03, 2010, 04:38:01 am »
Yesterday Eris surprised me with a call from my ex (claims he wants to hang out again as friends).

Today Eris surprised me with a strange cyst/tumor thing in a very sensitive place.  It definitely wasn't there yesterday.  I gotta go to the doctor now an ask them wtf Eris has done to me  :horrormirth:

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Re: Surprise Me Eris! A 30 Day Experiment in FAITH.
« Reply #286 on: March 03, 2010, 04:43:47 am »
Today, grudgingly, I woke up and whispered, with great trepidation "surprise me pleasantly, eris".  Just to see what happens.

Not a moment later, I get news that the dog escaped last night and came back in the small hours smelling unspeakably foul, and that I must clean him.

I hate this game.

Earthbound Spirit

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Re: Surprise Me Eris! A 30 Day Experiment in FAITH.
« Reply #287 on: March 03, 2010, 05:59:59 am »
I think y'all are crazy for fucking with her like this. 
I hate everyone.

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Re: Surprise Me Eris! A 30 Day Experiment in FAITH.
« Reply #288 on: March 03, 2010, 06:01:49 am »
Bah, she's a dead Greek goddess. What can she do, really?

Mistress Freeky,
May have a death wish.
If someone does the “Fine, you’re right, I’m clearly a terrible person, I’m Satan, I’m the worst person alive, I should just die” thing in response to criticism of their harmful behavior, they are trying to manipulate people and flip the situation around so that they look like a victim.

As a neuroscientist I have to disagree with the perception that anyone is doing mathematical modeling of cognitive intelligence, yet; intelligence as an economist defines it, yes, but economists are worlds away from actual cognition.


Although it is outside the purview of this organization to offer personal advice, we can say -- without assuming any liability -- that previous experience indicates (and recent market studies corroborate) that given the present condition of the marketplace, continuing with your present course of action is likely to result in substantial in

NotPublished

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Re: Surprise Me Eris! A 30 Day Experiment in FAITH.
« Reply #289 on: March 03, 2010, 06:08:27 am »
It's what she wants. Her own race to fuck with her so then she can fuck with them in return.

Oh lookie I got a ph call from ex-Employer (What is it with Ex's?  :lulz:)

He made me angry  :argh!:

It was something along the lines
"bla bla bla boring shit bla bla bla I considered hanging myself and cutting my wrists bla bla bla bla I hope everything goes well for you and your new path."

I didn't realise me quitting would suck the life out of someone soo bad. Its definatly a suprise, but shit I am not a fucking mother.

Oh and my current employer is sick, it must be pretty bad for him to go home 2 days in a row - he's the type that loves his business and will work early mornings till late nights.

I count these as suprises and attribute to Eris cause that was the deal =/
« Last Edit: March 03, 2010, 06:11:53 am by NotPublished »
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Re: Surprise Me Eris! A 30 Day Experiment in FAITH.
« Reply #290 on: March 03, 2010, 06:15:25 am »
It's what she wants. Her own race to fuck with her so then she can fuck with them in return.

Oh lookie I got a ph call from ex-Employer (What is it with Ex's?  :lulz:)

He made me angry  :argh!:

It was something along the lines
"bla bla bla boring shit bla bla bla I considered hanging myself and cutting my wrists bla bla bla bla I hope everything goes well for you and your new path."

I didn't realise me quitting would suck the life out of someone soo bad. Its definatly a suprise, but shit I am not a fucking mother.

Oh and my current employer is sick, it must be pretty bad for him to go home 2 days in a row - he's the type that loves his business and will work early mornings till late nights.

I count these as suprises and attribute to Eris cause that was the deal =/

Would that be the former employer who felt you up?
"If I owned Goodwill, no charity worker would feel safe.  I would sit in my office behind a massive pile of cocaine, racking my pistol's slide every time the cleaning lady came near.  Auditors, I'd just shoot."

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Re: Surprise Me Eris! A 30 Day Experiment in FAITH.
« Reply #291 on: March 03, 2010, 07:26:18 am »
Oh shit your right LOL  :lulz: :lulz:

.. Oh godEris..
« Last Edit: March 03, 2010, 07:29:01 am by NotPublished »
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Re: Surprise Me Eris! A 30 Day Experiment in FAITH.
« Reply #292 on: March 03, 2010, 07:41:35 am »
ACK I BROKE MY BOW

... As it broke my heart clenched and anxiety pumped through my body ... time stood still.

I liked this one gaww :( Thats one of the biggest suprises I've had  :lulz: :lulz: :lulz:

Hope their cheap to repair
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Re: Surprise Me Eris! A 30 Day Experiment in FAITH.
« Reply #293 on: March 03, 2010, 08:27:55 am »
Today Eris surprised me with a strange cyst/tumor thing in a very sensitive place.

she gave you a thetan?
Look, asshole:  Your 'incomprehensible' act, your word-salad, your pinealism...It BORES ME.  I've been incomprehensible for so long, I TEACH IT TO MBA CANDIDATES.  So if you simply MUST talk about your pineal gland or happy children dancing in the wildflowers, go talk to Roger, because he digs that kind of shit

notathing

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Re: Surprise Me Eris! A 30 Day Experiment in FAITH.
« Reply #294 on: March 03, 2010, 10:06:05 am »
Today Eris surprised me with a strange cyst/tumor thing in a very sensitive place.

she gave you a thetan?

 :horrormirth: :horrormirth: :horrormirth:

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Re: Surprise Me Eris! A 30 Day Experiment in FAITH.
« Reply #295 on: March 03, 2010, 10:38:42 am »
Ok so I woke up and said surprise me eris!

I'm back to the phone. Stolen nets are rubbish, however this doesn't count as it was tempermental yesterday and I switched on the pc before saying it. 

Going to catch a train to meet my mother in a bit.
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Re: Surprise Me Eris! A 30 Day Experiment in FAITH.
« Reply #296 on: March 03, 2010, 01:28:14 pm »
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.






Doktor Howl

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Re: Surprise Me Eris! A 30 Day Experiment in FAITH.
« Reply #297 on: March 03, 2010, 01:45:28 pm »
Wow.

Thanks, Eris.
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Re: Surprise Me Eris! A 30 Day Experiment in FAITH.
« Reply #298 on: March 03, 2010, 01:57:44 pm »
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.







 :mittens:


I am not “full of hate” as if I were some passive container. I am a generator of hate, and my rage is a renewable resource, like sunshine.

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Re: Surprise Me Eris! A 30 Day Experiment in FAITH.
« Reply #299 on: March 03, 2010, 02:12:29 pm »
 :asplode:
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