Topics

Oh yeah, it's Georgia.

http://realestate.aol.com/blog/2011/06/28/hoa-halts-construction-of-paralyzed-army-vets-home/?ncid=webmail10

Plans to build a new home for a paralyzed Army veteran at no cost to his family have been put on hold by the local homeowners association.

The reason, said the president of the nonprofit homebuilding group, is fear that the home would drag down property values in the neighborhood.

The Evans, Ga., home was to be built for Army Sgt. 1st Class Sean Gittens (left), who was struck in 2008 by an IED blast on his second tour of duty in Iraq. The trauma left him paralyzed on the right side of his body and unable to speak.

It wasn't supposed to turn out this way. "This is the total opposite of what usually happens," said John Gonsalves, president and founder of Homes for Our Troops, a nonprofit that builds homes for injured veterans. "We've met every requirement they've asked for," he told AOL Real Estate during a phone interview.

When did you get into Horrorology?

Yeah, I know things came to an awkward moment a while back.  I know that I got broken, but I knew that was going to happen anyway, eventually, and I got most of it out of my system at the beginning there.  It's all good.

There's not a whole lot to say, other than I remember back when you said you wanted to be my friend always, and was worried about ruining our friendship.  Kind of funny, since I'm the one who is worried about that now.

You're still my best friend, and pretty much my only close friend anymore. 

Hugs and kisses,
Freeky

WILL NEVER GUESS WHAT I JUST FOUND OUT.


You may now start thanking me (read: screaming.)

"I             m            e             i                                     u
                     '   x                       t         d                 a                         s
                                     c                       be                                   e . . . . . ."
                                                                               c


"Man, I've really got a nasty headache.  You got any Ibuprofen?    Thanks man.  So yeah, things are working out really well." 

h      h     t       e           r      mi                   s
                     h           p                   s           e
                                     o                            s        Oh
                                                                                       god
                                                                                                 not
                                                            NOW...




Everything is finally working out at last.  You've moved in with your best friend, who you love dearly, or you've got the perfect dream job and are making BANK, or you're finally getting that divorce you've needed since forever.  You've got some problems, sure, who doesn't?  Isn't that why friends are friends, that they allow you to gripe at them from time to time, and offer helpful advice, or at least a sympathetic ear?  You're in the best place you've been in in years, and that's what matters.

But what if it didn't?  What if you were in the best place you could possibly be ever, and your mind was caving in so quickly

"Chicka, I haven't brushed my teeth in a few days, do you think I could get some mouthwash to tide me over?  My teeth feel like they're wearing slippers..."

                                                                                                                                                                                                       that it simply didn't matter because there was no pressure valve, no balanced motor with good bearings, no safety seals that your own inner pressure just ate away at your brain?  Well, let's take a look at this poor soul, to whom this happened. 

Beverly the Top (apparently not a sex related nickname, though I never found out what it's about) is 24.  She has a daughter, and the dead beat baby-daddy is avoiding communicating with her, but circumstances have finally made him pony up child support.  She is in a relationship, nothing public, but very alternative.  This is Tucson, after all.  She had got out from under her crazy mother, troubled housemates, and other poor living conditions, and is now living in quite a fine house, with her friends/SO, which causes mixed feelings in her, since it's a secret, and her other best friend she told doesn't really approve of the situation, and doesn't understand it anyway.  One SO doesn't quite know the depth of her feelings towards her other SO, and while the other SO is aware of these feelings, and returns them, has become taciturn and difficult to approach.

"I'm totally happy, for real.  ...  UGH.  It seems like no matter how much I brush and floss, my teeth just get worse and worse.  I keep getting food stuck in there, or it seems like I do, because there's a rotten taste and am spitting something foul out of my mouth every few hours."

The problem is, her SOs are together quite frequently.  This wouldn't be a problem, she's gotten used to sleeping alone, but certain things that would doubtless bore you or I have gone into her head, and she sees the pattern.  And she's gotten lonely.  She can say some things to one SO that won't cause any problems, but they aren't the issues at heart.  Her other SO, as previously mentioned, is inaccessible to her way of seeing.  Her best friend wouldn't be able to give any help, either with advice or with sympathy. 

But let's move on.

d               e             e           el              i
                       o                s                  l              h
                s                            h                     t                         m

shut up....


Beverly is terrified.  Of everything.  She takes Pills^TM to help, and it usually works.  But sometimes she feels worse.  She feels like her mind hasn't been swabbed out in ages.

"Man, I'm starting to get some serious cavities.  Do you have any suggestions of dentists?"

Sometimes, when she feels worse, a vivid mental image comes to her suddenly, without her bidding it.  The image is a SLAP, the kind that echoes in large rooms, and it's from her SO who knows the extent of her feelings.  She knows this is ridiculous.  But part of her wonders why is it so ridiculous.  That the SO doesn't hit women? Well, yeah, true.  That you're just standing there and the SO comes sweeping around the corner with a scowl on the face and with no explanation POW? Okay, it's silly. 

h   stop       h                  i
                e               s      d          quiet
              a      shutup              l                 e  stop it

It's probably just a dosage problem.  Gotta get that fixed. 

Beverly's little girl is beautiful at 2.  She is extremely precocious, is going to be a heartbreaker, and looks like her daddy.  She's also needy and demanding little toddler, as toddlers are.  There's no point in telling people, reasons Bev, that the love of your life is a pain in the ass, because not only will they give you something that sounds, on the surface, like advice (it won't really be), they will assume she is a bad parent.  And she doesn't need other people thinking she's being a bad parent when she already thinks that about herself. Even when she runs herself to the bone she knows she ought to have done something better.  But whatever, you know, she'll grow out of it in a few years.


  "Y o u ' r e shut your
             g o i n g damn mouth
t o                                h e l l , i already
                             g i r l!"      know that


Bev the Top dances for a living.  It's the only work she can find.  She has her pride though, and stopped walking the streets a while back.  She never exactly told anyone she hung around on corners anyway, but a few probably figured it out, the unhelpful bastards.  She dances, and she makes money to put diapers on her girl's bottom and food in her girl's belly.  Sometimes, assholes come in and ask if she knows she's going to hell for working in a den of sin.  She tells them to fuck off, the customary words that mean "I have no wish to continue this conversation  Please be on your way and have a great evening"

She doesn't have friends who dance, nor have been in a strip club in years.  She also suspects that some of her friends are very oncomfotrtable discussing her workplace, so she just keeps her yap shut.

I suppose overall, there aren't a lot of drawbacks that can be seen from having no one to talk to.  It just makes things harder, all in all.


"Uuuugh, my head.  My TEEF.  Infections and abscesses for the win, man, I'm telling you.  Augh.

Roger can't remember.  PM me back, please.

Please to PM me your e-mail addresses and the usernames you would like for the blog.  Or if you'd rather, go to pfawac.com and sign up.  It'll say something about not being able to email, but I can do the thing, no worries.

YOUR AVATAR IS EYEBALLING ME.  KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF BEFORE I QUANTUMS YOU.

ALSO WHEN ARE YOU GONNA GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE.

The frequent SCA conversations just gave me an idea!  WE should start a SCA group, but instead of SCA, it should be with guns and leather armor and crazy bikes and crazier people and Tina Turner.

What do you think?

I sent this in to a scholarship thingy.  I doubt it'll win, but SHUT THE FUCK UP, because any entry is better than nothing, and I don't know jack shit about who's running right now.  Except for Trump I know he isn't.

There is a man in Tucson who goes by the name of The Good Reverend Roger.  He will never run, and he doesn't have the answers, and he doesn't represent anyone but himself. What he is is a man with a very strong sense of ethics, personality, justice, and what is right, as well as a good grasp on how people work.  It is this man who I would want as president above all others.

The Good Reverend has a very hands-off approach when it comes to personal choices.  Abortion, pot, religion, gay marriage, these things, he says, are all up to the person involved.  A person who can't choose these things are not free.

Reverend Roger has a very hands-ON approach to corporation and big business control.  As the most successful manager in his field in a worldwide corporation that deals in oil (among other things), he knows the ins and outs of what they are really doing business for, and it isn't the interests of "the little guy." 

The Good Reverend loves the constitution, and it fills him with rage (I've borne witness to a good many of his rants and tirades) to see it ripped to shreds, dying by inches.  His concern over the freedom of speech and the freedom of the press bothers him the most, I think, because of his life-long pursuit of truth.  The approval of torture and imprisonment without a fair trial is a close second, if not tied with first place.

He is a great lover of history, and he sees in the current situation an obvious parallel with the Roman Empire, fifty years before it's fall.  A common saying of his is "We're only getting what we deserve as a nation.  The monkeys don't deserve freedom!"  And then he laughs, but it's an angry laugh, all the same.

So why do I believe that he should be president, and be a good president at that?  Because he knows how politics and people work.  He knows how the government works.  He is a decent human being with a strong regard for freedom.  And he can't possibly be worse than what we've got right now.

The first of many essays ripped out of my stinking rectum, I'm sure.

Particularly when it comes to dice.  We've all heard the sayings round the table, yes?  "Oh shit, it dropped on the floor, BAD LUCK, toss it!"  "YOU DON'T TOUCH ANOTHER MAN'S DICE!"  "Hah, remember that one guy's d20?  It never rolled above a 5, and then he threw it on top of the book shelf, and three years later he went to roll it and got a 1."

I personally am dice-bit from hell, normally.  I've been trying to rectify this with proper rituals to appease the Dice Gods, but the results are spotty at best.  So I was wondering what do you guys do to realign your dice, without destroying any of them?  I may end up doing this yet, but I'm enough of a hoarder to not want to do it, in case it might someday stop being a jerkface stupid die.

ASK ME ANYTHING YOU FUCKING BASTARDS.  FUCKING DO IT.

MY NUMBER WENT AND CHANGED (but I have to make 100 minutes last another 2-3 weeks, and texts aren't free. ).  MY NEW NUMBER, FOR ALLA YOUSE WHO AINT PUSSIES TOO SCARED TO TAKE IT,  IS (520) 561-5681.

SO MANY PUSSIES TOO SCARED OF ME. HAHAHA.

So I'm making stuffed eggplant.  The first instruction (core eggplant) already has me stumped.   HOw CAN THIS GO WRONG!?

Post ITT, and I will tell you I am in love with you.  Not exclusively, of course. 




PILLZ HERE, and all is right with the world.

The remains of people long dead and gone to skeleton lie strewn about a desert in the growing dark.  A little distance away, one sits away from the others.  A journal lies nearby.  Most of it is illegible, but the following section can be made out.

Poor Bunny.  He was no more than a child himself on the inside.  Poor Jake, who wasn't ready for any of this.  How could we have been, though.  None of us knew what the hell was going on.  Poor Tommy, what an awful way to go.

It shouldn't have been like this!  We were trying to fix things!  All we wanted was to stop the Pigs.  But we didn't know what was going on anymore, didn't know what to do.  We didn't know what we wanted to stop.  It was too big, I guess.  It's too late now, everything is over.

Fire's about to go out, I guess we'll be next.  Getting hard to breathe.  I don't even know why I keep this damn thing now the whole damn planet

There is a scribble, as of someone writing and then losing strength quickly.  This seems to be the last entry.  It's just as well, because it's now too dark to read.  A forlorn sound moans across the space; a wind is blowing.  And in the dark, pages turn, and turn, and turn. 

PLZ GIVE ME MY NAME BACK.  IF YOU DON'T I WILL BE FORCED TO BOMBARD YOU WITH AN ARRAY OF PHYSICS-TWISTING PYROTECHNICS WHICH DO AN UNGODLY AMOUNT OF DAMAGE TO YOU WHILE LEAVING THE SURROUNDING AREAS QUITE UNMARKED.

LOV,
THUTHAN.

PLZ TO BE CHECKING YUOR PMS. THX

Fuck you.  I hate you.  With a passion.  I can't really explain how much I hate you right now, because there isn't an analogy or metaphor accurate enough to capture it.  My hate is untamable just now, defying mere human things like words.

Ahhh...

I hate you like a Tucson summer.  You hear about other summers, and think they're pretty bad.  100 degrees, humidity, all that jazz.  No no, sorry, a dry heat is usually worse, particularly when you didn't even have fine weather to enjoy for more than a few days.  Step out of your house, your car, any business?  Get blasted by an oven, a blast furnace!  Try to watch the ground to avoid the sun's blinding glare and save your eyes?  Get a sunburn over YOUR ENTIRE BODY, even the stuff covered by clothes, from the heat and intensity of the sun, which is not but a fraction of the roasting you'll receive in a month's time, and will worsen still a month after that. 

I don't even need a reason to hate you.  I hope you all end up here someday.

Love and kisses,
Freeky

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adam_%28robot%29

Dude.

ETA: Sorry if this is a repost.

Look at this shit!

http://tucson.metromix.com/bars-and-clubs/bar_review/inside-mr-heads/2444976/content

I don't know if anyone's started anything regarding this. The TSA (and America in general) is getting way overboard with the "safety" and "war on terror" shenanigans. There seems to be a lot of reaction to it.

I was thinking, while I was thinking that, that Facebook, while completely asinine most of the time, is very good for spreading ideas. So, I was thinking of starting a group on FB detailing what goes on with this sort of thing, because I think if more awareness were spread, people would be more inclined to be outraged.

http://www.facebook.com/home.php?sk=group_146771982037154

Here's the lin to it. If you lot thin it's a good idea and have a facebook account, a lot of help would be appreciated. If you don't want to go through the rigamarole, just give me some ideas or tips on managing groups here.

It's a Providence moment. We were here first. In fact, the reason why our level of craziness went down is because Buddy Cianci sent the nuts TO Tucson. Makes perfect sense. Now they're just starting to find their way back.

The next time Rog is out here, we NEED to take him to Fall River and New Bedford. He NEEDS to see the origins of filth.

Suu, Suu. EVERYWHERE is Tucson. Providence may have been officially founded first, but Tucson has always been, since FOREVER.

Nope. I refuse. Keep your grubby ass filthy label out of my own brand of grubby ass filth. THIS IS WAR, REMEMBER?!

HAVE I SEEN A RETURN SHOT? NO? WELL THEN I GUESS YOU GAVE UP.

This statement was acquiesced to by Sovereign Episkopos-Princess Kaousuu; Esq., Bene Gesserit, OVRR. of Providence, RI on November 17th.

OR

I'm waiting.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wL-hNMJvcyI&NR=1&feature=fvwp

I have no words.

I am bored. Give me EITHER your most annoying Youtube clips OR the best country and/or rock (old rock and country, for preference) songs you can think of.


Thanks in advance. I will watch ANY link, but keep in mind I have a toddler who is with me at all times, and I'd really appreciate it if you didn't post a link to anything that would potentially be creepy in the creeper way if I were to watch it with him around.

Sharks can go fuck themselves in whatever orifice can suffice as an anus. Suckers be leaping out the water at your face like "WOAHHIMAEATYOUFOOOD!" and your like "NAW SHIGGER I WAS JUST TAKIN A PICTURE" And the shark's all "PAPPARAZZIBITCHPLZGTFONOMDONTBEHATIN"

And the next thing you know, they're gonna start floppin all over the boardwalk, tryin to catch some pretty little bird be like "HAYBABYWUTSCOOKINSMELLSLIKE  YUOOOO!" and theull be all "EEEEEE II HATE THE BEACH" and they'lll be all like "DONTBEHATINGIRLNOMNOMNOM"

And the girl won't be like anything, cuz she's dead.

[My ex is a dick.]

                              Fuck off and die, Zen.
                                            OR
       So it's quarter to three, I'm fucked up on pills, and I AM PISSED


That could be why I'm not asleep, I guess. Being pissed off I mean. Actually it's more like I'm pissed off that I'm not getting pissed off. But there isn't any point to it, is there? Not in these cases. Let's take a closer look and see where I'm going wrong.

My ex is a dick. I'm sure there are a lot of people here who would agree that an ex being a dick is a match to light your BONFIRE OF WRATH. Now, you may have heard this, sorry to go on about it, but things have not been progressing well on the custody/child support battle front. We're done with mediation, managed to hammer out a visitation schedule (I made all the concessions), but the ex wouldn't budge or even try to compromise with me in terms of custody. Surprise, surprise, right? So now it goes to court, to be decided by someone who does not know all the facts and nuances and power struggle in play.

I can't make my ex a decent human being. Nor can I influence an impartial judge who has no idea the story and situation (hence why they reccommend hammering things out in mediation.)  I accept this as fact, and try to move on. Does it make me feel better? No. Is there anything I can do*? No.

A bunch of my stuff has gone missing, and the culprit is obvious to everyone.

Anything I haven't already got back will not be returned. I accept this as fact, and try to move on. Does this make me feel better? No, and it is not even close to being okay. Is there anything I can do*? Save up change and replace what was lost.

I am to move in three weeks time. It's because, despite the fact that my roommates claim to like me okay, their house is getting a bit crowded with the realization that there are, essentially, five or six factions in the house: the shithead's mom is fighting to save her from herself, the shithead's step-dad is too harsh on her and doesn't know what battles to choose, there is Babby Roomy and his mommy, and just taking care of him is really taing its toll on her, there is Shithead Tries To Watch Babby Roomy and gets Bored After Five Minutes, and then there's the monkey and I, and when the monkey is on his game, we count as an additional faction each.

What they are doing is being a family unit. What the monkey and I are doing is being a separate family unit (broken) in their home. I feel that there is nothing personal here when they decided I had to go. And go I must. I accept this as fact, and try to move on. Does it make me feel better? No, but it doesn't make me angry. It's just more proof to myself that I'm wanted nowhere. Is there anything I can do*? Probably not.

There is a baby crying upstairs for the last 20 minutes. He's probably cold, and needs a blanket and his pacifier.

The baby won't stop crying until he does. I accept this as fact, and try to move on (so I can get some fucking sleep.) Does this make me feel better? Is there anything I can do*? Probably not.


The world is full of stupid people. I accept this as fact, and try to move on. But I just can't do it. I want to punch them all in the face and scream at them until they are cowed and I am hoarse and calm once more. But I can't. Is there anything I can do?


Is there?




*WITHOUT VIOLENCE I WOULD LIKE VERY MUCH TO NOT VISIT A JAIL FOR ANY LENGTH OF TIME.

IT'S BHUNA CHICKEN TIME!

http://www.extremerestraints.com/chastity-devices_26/bon-4-silicone-chastity-device_3991.html?a=fetlife


A chastity belt for men.

Absolutely not safe for work.

Your avatar. It fills me with wonder and The Fear. What is it from?

   

                NO U.
                  ^
                  |
        Magnum opus.

I HAVE A FUCKING CHECK SITTING IN FRONT OF ME FOR $82.05 FROM THE GAS COMPANY!


FUCKING WOOOOT!

I saw this and immediately thought of you.

http://www.escapistmagazine.com/videos/view/loadingreadyrun/1889-Ways-to-Use-a-Vuvuzela

I wear nonprescription glasses over my prescription glasses. I don't smoke, wear shorts and T-shirts that I bought first-hand, and don't have a bike at all, but I do it with a sense of IRONY. All of my hurdie gurdies and ukeleles WEAR FUCKING BERETS! I listen to rap because rap sucks, but is more ironic than that crap you old fuckers listen to!

YOU CANNOT DEFEAT ME!

http://www.mania.com/warren-ellis-transmetropolitan_article_90650.html



And who is Tim Roth?

I hate you all.


Every.

Last.

One of you.*

Please go die. Preferrably in a fire.

Thanks.




*=If you exist, you fall into this category.

I got a prize yesterday in a Fry's parking lot.


It's a traffic cone.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbyzTI0M8eo&NR=1

Thought you might apprefiate this.

50 days, 0 minutes.

Just thought I'd share that with you.

So Dok is having a warhammer made for me. It won't be done for a good long while, but it needs a name, and before it is finished so that it can be engraved on it.

Naming starts in 3... 2... 1... GO!

 

You really do have to see this when you get home. (I'm assuming you're not on when I post this).

http://www.princepoppycock.com/fr_poppycock.cfm

CARAMELS? 

I has new address, so PM me when you need it.

I don't wanna look for pics of the spider basatrd, because it's too late and I'm trying to sleep, but we found a spider in the house today. it had a bulbous body, was brown, no hair, and if you took your thumbnail and wrapped it into a globe you'd have about the size of the body. I don't remember leg length. What was it, do you think?

Ask me what these guys play. Go on.

MOTHERFUKKEN TESLA COILS.

Sciency bits: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KbS50_65UjI&feature=fvst

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2BhKIpf2oH0&NR=1 <Imperial March
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PdrqdW4Miao <Dr Who theme
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBx2wkg9nhk <Iron Man

1: YOUR AVATAR IS AMAZING. I LOVE YOU.


2: Does it need to be an axe specifically when slaughtering in Khorne's name, or will any weapon that will make a sufficient mess and one is proficient with do?

[WON'T]

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID, AND I WON'T SIT BY WHILE IT CONTINUES TO HAPPEN!!!

Step 1: Make chicken broth

Throw 4 chicken thighs with skin and bone still on/in in a pot. Quarter 1 orange. Put in 1 TBSP each of garam masala, mild curry powder, seasoned meat tenderizer (maybe), black pepper, smoked paprika. Put in 1/2 TBSP Cocoa Chile blend. Put in 1 stick lemongrass. Put in a handful of dried goji berries. Boil the fuck out of it.

Use a colander to get the big pieces out, then use a mesh strainer to get the spice mud out. Cut up chicken, enjoy that in other things.

Step 2: Dump in the stuff.

Put some frozen pre-cut carrots and some tofu (I used the stuff that says "Firm" on the package) in your chicken goop. Heat through.

Step 3: Enjoy.

Be on the lookout for a mysterious "Mutated but Still Gentlemanly Dramatic Squid" package. Is comink YUOR way!