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Wow! Abrasive.

Museum quality stuff right here, what do you use to make them?

I keep making "reality checks" in the hopes that once I lucid dream, I could experience flying and traveling to utopian paradises.

Every single time I end up lucid dreaming, I start to make naked women and get excited enough to wake up.

Is there anyway to combat this, or am I just too shallow to do anything else?

Ahem.

Serious? If something's longer than 2 pages, it's not worth to read, by definition. 

This is what mandatory reading in school gets you.
Kids these days don't want to read.
It is a sad thing to live your life out of spite.
You don't know what you are missing.

Oh, noes. Don't take it too seriously, I was just joking.
I love reading myself, and was being a cynical cunt who forgot sarcasm doesn't show through internet too well... Sorry 'bout that.

Ahem.

Serious? If something's longer than 2 pages, it's not worth to read, by definition. 

It's like the Oscars, but with a Reagan's funeral type stick up the ass?

Hmm.. Don't they have people make talks for the Oscars? That's a little too assertive for the finnish taste.

Get a feel for it: http://youtu.be/kSuBfE6SOK4?t=20m9s

[two hours]

A party held in celebration for the finnish independence day, the Independence Celebration is so interesting you'll have a hard time believing it.

The whole thing is broadcasted live, with over 2 million people watching it. There's like 5 million people in Finland and I bet those statistic-cunts don't take the babies in consideration. The guests are picked by the president. This is mostly members of The Parliament©, actors and war veterans.

It starts with greeting the president. They form a line, shake hands with the president and his wife, and wonder when did they become so great they got invited.



This takes two hours.

It's so long they have to hold a break in the middle. The people not getting the break are the soldiers, who stand there stiff as a 15-year-old dick with great jawlines posture, it's worth noting that some bobbing is present during the close-up shots. But they don't need a break, not because soldiers fit the category 'human' only in a very vague sense, but because they're so honored to be there they're fucking losing their minds.

The broadcasting network filled this break with quickly reporting about Nelson Mandela's death and the weather (a man yelling how cold it's going to get like we don't know it). You know, to get the lesser things out of the way.

During this time, there's Beethoven blazing in the background. Someone figured, since this is so fucking hype as shit you've never experienced anything as hardcore, nothing but Beethoven will do. We know how good Beethoven is. It's like all of human emotion freebased into an audio track. So it sounds like Jesus or the Anti-Christ might walk up in the joint at any moment.
Pure hype.

For the whole event, there's two professional commentators letting you know what's happening at all times. I mean it pretty much has to. They announce who it is that is currently shaking hands with the chosen one, then comment on their dresses/suits.

We can see a beautiful three dimensional rose pattern dress here, I think this will be one of those dresses that we will see filmed quite often tonight. - Professional commentator #1 (actual quote)

Of course, like the yin with the yan, the object with the shadow, the hodge with the podge, the sheer amount of people watching it created a noticable counter reaction. Well, there wasn't a lot of them, but they did break windows, in a pathetic attempt to gain as much adrenalin as the chosen ones.



I'm not even going to get to the party itself. I'm not. All I'm going to tell you is, these badass motherfuckers are slow dancing like it's 1479, and some of the best wine ever is present.

Will I get a significant other? 

None of you got your guesses right. This makes me feel oddly ready for reproduction.

1.  That unpleasant (?) feeling you got when you logged on was just the sudden realization that you have Nigel's dick up your arse.  Nothing to be ashamed of, EVERYONE has Nigel's dick up their arse.

2.  Don't pester ECH or Faust about the so-called "secret Pogs forum".  It doesn't exist.

3.  The pool is on the roof.

4.  Standing on the toilet won't help.  PD crabs can jump 12 feet.

5.  Nigel hasn't read the Principia Discordia.  You should tell her all about it.  The goofier you are, the better you'll do.

6.  I am a beautiful fairy princess, and expect to be treated as such.

7.  I am also an ANGRY BLACK WOMAN, and I am here to take a stand against the pasty-white honkies, Nigel and LMNO.  They are trying to BRING A SISTER DOWN.

8.  Most of the actual content is buried in Apple Talk.

9.  You live in Tucson, even if you don't know it.  Everyone does, as if you DON'T, Tucson will come to YOU.  Explanations upon request.

10.  Watch out for Paes and Signora Paesor.  They are ill-mannered upside down people from some Caribbean hellhole (New Zealand or some shit), and they are NOT ON YOUR SIDE. 

Thank you for your time Uncle. Consider all the rules that instantaneously shared values with my Gut Feeling© as mental tramp stamps on my frontal lobe. The bad, bad, naughty dog is safe for now.

That "cabbage" he loves looks like lettuce to me.

Hey, in a way, you're right. Let me have my way. I never did anything to you.

Hey everyone!

I'm a little confused as to which category to put this post in. This is a story, my first post on the forums, an introduction, it is therefore factual - not fictional. If I have made a mistake, it was not with ill intent in mind!

*Achem*
We didn't spend enough time together anymore, my family and I. That's why moments like these were so nice. All gathered up around the dinner table, destined to fill our stomachs with delicious baked goods, prepared to enjoy the warm presence of each other.

In a mass of land somewhere in europe, in an all o.k. nation I sigh to call my homeland, it's part of good social etiquette to not mumble a single word. You see, words are unnecessary noises when they don't convey important ideas. And I've known these cunts for all my life, I know their limitations in intellect and their capacity for novel thoughts. No need for speech, as I love them all.

So, much conversing never occured between us. But that's not the point. We can still all look at each other after making sure the other in question is not looking at us simultaneously. Proper social etiquette 201.

The warmth of your loved ones presence will grant you the emotional state of mediocre happiness and middling bliss. It's like winning the lottery, but not life changing. Like getting head from your friends hot mom, but nothing you can brag about. But there was something always there ruining it.

Contained inside a bowl blacker than death. Rarely did a photon escape its surface. "Take some of it.", "It's good for you.".

Fucking salad. Fu-cking sa-lad. Proof in front of my eyes, right there, that if there's an omnipotent being out there, it's not all-loving. I don't want that shit. It's so awful and blend and disgusting I don't think it will stay down my stomach even if I forced myself to eat it.

The government controlled departments of food and agriculture can be thanked for enforcing all their propaganda for so long it became a cultural norm. Images of "diatery guidelines", "food plate models" and "nutrition pyramids" on posters hanging on the walls of elementary schools and TV commercials deliberately shown after shows for kids to brainwash the youth into eating that carbage-cabbage (abr. carbbage).

Consider the following. The previous statement is false. I was eager to find people alike, seeing people eating carbbage daily and talking about it making you "slim" and other BS, it all made me feel excluded.

A few years back, I'm on the right.

I spent months in cabbagist groups planning and executing minor terrorist attacks on pro-cabbage civilians. Partaking in cabbagist rallies was nothing out of the ordinary for me.



After a hearty search for an anti-cabbage religion, I stumbled upon some discordian rhetoric. It became important to me. I declared myself pope, "Charmander 113th", yet "cabbages are not welcome" was the only quote from any sacred book I was willing to quote.

It was a long ride, but I couldn't escape from the fact that even cabbages are popes, in some sense. I'm happy to inform all of you beautiful bastards, I have travelled quite a long distance from my cabbagist ways.

In fact, I fell in love with one. We have been together for 5 months now. Hate is hard to get rid of, but it gets better, trust me.