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Topics - Freeky

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46
Apple Talk / HAY NIGEL
« on: April 19, 2012, 11:53:55 pm »
What's got two thumbs and a jar of apricot chutney?  :fap: :fap: :fap: :fap: :fap:

Good thing it arrived today, the weather is getting HOT HOT HOT.


PORTLAND VS TUCSON: PORTLAND WINS 2-1

47
Apple Talk / GUSTAVE, NOOOOOOOO!
« on: April 15, 2012, 05:23:57 am »

49
Apple Talk / I dont know who I am anymore.
« on: April 13, 2012, 05:40:38 pm »
I have come to the realization over the last week or so that I don't know who I am, or what I believe in, anymore.  I hold up an image of the person I wanted to be when I was 16, or even 18, and it doesn't match hardly at all with who I am. 

When I was 16, I was positive that, while other people may work differently, I'd only be completely in love with one person, ever.  Now, I am in love with a couple of people, and have serious feelings for others which could evolve that way given time and opportunity, and am actively looking for open relationships.

When I was 16, I knew, knew, that principles were a better thing to have than doing stuff that would get me into trouble if I got caught.  Now, I'm breaking promises left and right like they were plates at a Greek wedding.  It isn't even as if I don't mean them when I make them, I just can't seem to follow through.

When I was 18, I hated hated HATED self-absorbed, shallow, attention whoring anyones.  Now, if I don't actively stay on top of my desire to talk about myself, I am one of those people (still hate them, though).

When I was 18, I never thought I'd be able to meet up with people over the internet.  It was too scary, too risky.  Now, I'm inviting dudes over for drinks after talking to them for a few hours on the interbutts.

When I was 16, I thought I was incapable of malicious thought or act.  Now it seems like that is the only thing I'm made of. 

There is no line I draw that I don't seem to cross eventually.  I have no idea where this is coming from.  I'm no good at self-reflection.  I'm not even sure this is a Tucson driven thing.  But what bothers me the most is that I don't really care if this trend continues. I don't know if that makes me a bad person, but I don't care if that's the case, either.


50
Apple Talk / WANTED: VOLUNTEERS
« on: April 11, 2012, 10:04:51 pm »
So there's this scholarship, right, where they want you to submit a piece of artwork that was inspired by Paul Frank products.  I wanted to do a WOMP and submit it.

I wanted to know if there's anyone who'd be cool with me using pictures of them minus heads and faces, a reverse WOMP if you will, for this purpose.

51
Rage Gland Backup, I has it.  Not only am I having trouble ranting, I'm having problems just working up the give-a-shit-o-meter, or writing anything.  So I'm going to try writing out the things that piss me off, without censoring myself in any way (which may mean a lot of whining and/or generalized TMI, so best to just exit now if it doesn't sound like fun to read), and I'm gonna post in this thread here. 

Last chance to ignore this thread, right here.

52
Apple Talk / A thing.
« on: March 26, 2012, 11:20:44 pm »
I sit here, being a void.  I don't know what I want to be, to have, to think of.  Hopes, dreams, plans, all seem to be destroyed in the making.  I am empty of thought and word, too tired for deed.  I picture myself with flattened, dull eyes and expressionless face.  I consume, but do not create.  I accept, but do not engage.  I absorb, I internalize, I obliterate. 

53
Aneristic Illusions / George Clooney Arrested
« on: March 16, 2012, 06:52:18 pm »
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/03/16/george-clooney-arrested-dc-_n_1353441.html?1331910563&ncid=webmail4

Quote
George Clooney and at least one congressman were arrested Friday outside of the Sudanese embassy in Washington D.C. The arrests were anticipated and part of the actor's effort to draw attention to the humanitarian crisis in Sudan.

Well, I thought that was cool, anyway.

54
Discordian Recipes / I HAZ QUESTION
« on: March 16, 2012, 06:37:11 pm »
If you freeze scrambled eggs, do they get gross in either their consistency or taste?

55
Apple Talk / GUESS THAT TCC POSTER!
« on: March 13, 2012, 04:33:20 am »
This fread does what it says on the label.  No cheating and searching for the text!

Feel free to post your own quotes forr us to guess!

Quote
Bahahaha You are so FAR off my mark... Presumptuousness isn't becoming to you, FW. :-*

While I really hope to not be 'known' as a MILF... I happen to completely love the idea of 'men', what I was referring to above was more leveling, like as in the difference between 'human' and 'HUMAN'.

(PS if admin/mods think this should get moved out of here, please to move it.)

56
http://www.reuters.com/article/2012/03/08/us-crime-florida-neighborhoodwatch-idUSBRE82709M20120308

Quote
(Reuters) - The family of a 17-year-old African-American boy shot to death last month in his gated Florida community by a white Neighborhood Watch captain wants to see the captain arrested, the family's lawyer said on Wednesday.



Well, the kid was legally black in a gated community, so obviously the Neighborhood watch captain had no choice.

57
Apple Talk / Ain't nothing to fuck with
« on: March 02, 2012, 03:26:35 am »

58
Apple Talk / An Explanation of Sorts Part the First
« on: February 16, 2012, 04:36:43 am »
Once upon a time there was this kid.  Cute little thing.  Big teeth in a big smile.  Always said what he meant, until he started lying, but that's a different story.

He felt things pretty intensely, or just never realized that he shouldn't wear his hear on his sleeve like everyone else.  Scary movies made him so frightened he would puke.  To his friends, he was just a bit too friendly, a bit too open, a bit too weird.  At home, he always had the sense that he had done something wrong, and so he became apologetic just for being being there, in the way, all the time.  His despair when someone said he wasn't their friend any longer, though definitely over-reactive, was never feigned.  His terror of new people and situations was crippling.  And oh, how he could hate.  How he could rage.  Without his paralyzing fear of reprisal, he'd have had a rather more unhealthy enjoyment of retribution, to exact in physical pain the emotional torment inflicted upon him by his peers.  If he had ever learned how to fight, he would have tried harder to catch the bastards. 

And there was his problem.  He didn't have a lot of what you might call middle gears.  He was just a bit too much for people to cope with.  It was hard for him to make friends, and that didn't help at all.  Over the years, he saw a pattern, even if he didn't quite understand it.  He would meet someone who thought he was cool, nothing special personality wise.  Then he was AWESOMESAUCE BFF.  Then he and this friend became inseperable, and it is an important note that this was on both sides, not just his, at least 50% of the time.  Then something happened that the kid wasn't ever sure of, and the other person would throw their hands up in disgust and walk away, usually to never be heard from again. 

It was a cause of great distress to him when a cycle completed itself, because he didn't know what he was doing wrong to screw everything up. 

Eventually, he became terrified of any little thing becoming the "something happened" part, and it made everything worse.

At least, it bothered him until he learned about pills.

*chompf*

59
Apple Talk / Adventures in Real Life turned to general essay purposes.
« on: February 09, 2012, 06:40:23 am »
So the other essay I wrote didn't actually work for this assignment.  I just finished writing up and printing 27 copies of a new version, produced in full below.  I had to make some of this up from nothing, and other parts out of stuff that has happened before, because I don't have anything that WOULD work for this essay unless I did make it up. 

I felt proud enough of this that I wanted to share it with you. 

Real names removed here when used in the essay.

Adventures In Real Life

   I could hear Enabler laughing in exhilaration as Roger came to a stop.  He stuck his head out the window and yelled up at me, "I think we should be done for the day!" 

   I pulled the unlit cigar out of my mouth and shouted back, "BALLS!"  I never smoke, but there's some things you need to be "smoking" a cheap cigar while you're doing, or else what's the point?  I adjusted my grip on Roger's Bisley, and plucked at the tie-down securing the lawn chair to the now permanently dented roof of the jeep.  "You had a way longer turn.  One more go!"  I heard more laughing from inside the jeep, this time from Alty, who was sometimes from the internet but mostly from Alaska. 

   "I never thought you guys were serious about this sunroofing thing," he said. 

   "We were serious, Alty.  We're serious people," Roger said.

   "WE'RE SERIOUS ABOUT HAVING A GOOD TIME!" I shouted down.  I couldn't help it.  I speak in all capital letters when I'm excited, and there's nothing quite as exhilarating as being strapped to the roof of an old beat up jeep as it drives at about twenty miles an hour down a dirt road, shooting at signs you've supplied for that express purpose, with a revolver that is louder than that harpy Eris cackling at three dumb broads fighting over some silly apple and a war that annhialated an entire city.

   Enabler smacked the back of Roger's head - I could hear it even in the wide open desert and outside the car - and said "Yes, again!" 

   "AHH!  Woman!  Alty, do you see how these crazy womenfolk treat their holy man?"

   I grinned.  I knew I could always count on Enabler to back me up when it came to fun-having.  From the muffled laughter, I knew they had rolled up their windows again.  I made sure I was secured to the makeshift harness on top of the jeep.  I reloaded the six shooter.  I kicked the roof of the jeep as I might a steed, spurring it onward towards victory.  The jeep trundled around in the clearing at the end of the nameless dirt road I had once found while driving up Oracle out past that small town Catalina, trying to escape my worries with speed and reckless lane-changing.  When he was turned around, I took the safety was off (there's stupid and then there's suicidal, kids!) and kicked again, signalling Roger to GOGOGOGOGOOOO!   

   I whooped as he peeled out.  The first sign, "NO TRESPASSING," came up on my left, fast.  BLAMpwong!  A solid hit!  I recocked and aimed to my right, where another sign proclaiming "HIPPIES USE BACK ENTRANCE" was bearing down on me.  BLAMping!  Another hit!  The next sign, "PRIVATE PROPERTY,"  was too close, but I tried anyway. Recock     BLAM!  Missed.Recock     BLAMping!Recock     BLAM!Recock     BLAMpwow!  Not bad, as I unhooked myself from the rooftop contraption after the jeep had rolled to a stop. 

   After removing the lawn chair and various ropes from the damaged vehicle and stowing it in the back, I clambered in next to Alty.  I love his name, but I can't for the life of me pronounce it.  So I call him by his internet handle, Alty.  "Where to now?" I asked. 

   "The Grill, I'm starving," Roger responded.  The Grill is a restaurant down on Congress Street, a block or so west of the Hotel Congress.  "We'll figure out what to do next after that."  We drove off.

   The ride was long (and for the back seat riders, cramped), but was filled with talk and funny stories.  The Good Reverend Roger, my best friend and larger-than-life extraodinaire, led the conversation.  Enabler, his wife and my other best friend, was a quiet one, although not in a "I'm totally shy" or "I'm such a downer" way, more like "I'll add to this conversation when I'm good and ready, and you had best listen when I do!" way.  She's awesome like that.  Alty, the angry Alaskan biped, was listening to Roger with good natured incredulity.  I was chilling in the back seat, laughing to hear all the outrageous things Roger recounted, some of which I personally saw, like the time at the Meetrack (small dive on Drachmann, across the street from the Downtown Pima campus) when this drunk dude and his girlfriend started... Well, they were obviously having fun, I'll put it that way, on the pingpong table, while at the same time these two guys were talking about chili recipes.  Good times.

   Lunch was a loud affair, full of food and good fun.  Alty, the spirit stirring within him, began ranting about how stupid boys (the legal age kind, not the minor kind) are, and how eventually he can't even look men in the face, and then he swears off them forever, and then he gets a girlfriend and everything is going great until she leaves him to go back to Wisconsin and her family, and the whole cycle starts over again.  It was very inspiring.  Eventually, the food and the mood for ranting ran out, so we decided to walk around Fourth Avenue, and see what there was to see. 

   So there we were, walking down Fourth Ave., when what did my eyes see but another person I know;  Shayne, the compulsive liar, repeated thief, and general sociopath who had gotten with my bestie Torch, abused her, ran around on her, saddled her with a kid, and then, when she'd finally had enough and left him, refused to support their daughter or even see the little girl ever again.  All that rose in my memory and my gullet like a wave.  How I hated him.  How I despised him.  How I wished I could wipe the ever-present smirk off his stupid face.   Preferably with something sharp, like a bag of broken glass. 

   He spotted me, and came over to say hi.  Because I guess that's what you do if you see someone you know?  I was seething, enraged;  how dare he intrude on my good day?  "Hey, Freeky, long time no see!  How are you?" 

   He wasn't being particularly offensive, I thought as I grit my teeth, so I supposed that it wouldn't be polite to get hostile right away.  "I've been fine.  Torch has been doing great, too."  He looked at me blankly.  Just then I noticed a girl hovering possessively behind him.  She was skinny, technically pretty, and vapid looking.  She was also looking at me in a weird way.  Sort of judgementally. 

   I took a quick stock of myself: old, worn, ill-fitting jeans and T-shirt; a bit on the heavy side, with bad teeth that gives me that meth-mouth look; hanging out with a middle aged couple and some pale freak.  Even so, she had no right to be judging me and my friends.  Oh well, so much for polite.  "I see you have a new lady friend!  My, you do go through them, don't you?  Is this one your main squeeze or are you seeing her behind someone's back?"  I put on a look of polite curiosity.  Inside, I crowed as his face turned red and he balled his fists.  So what?  I thought.  So fucking what if he hits me?  It'll be worth it.  I recalled a line of Subgenius dogma, "Don't just eat a cheeseburger, eat the hell out of that cheeseburger!"  Well, I was certainly taking the situation to The Wall, but I was thinking to myself I think I'm about to bust through it. 

   I resisted looking around at the others.  I sensed that if I showed weakness, if I took my eyes off him for a minute, stopped daring him to punch me in the face, he really would.  He looked at Alty, looked at Roger.  Alty is a skinny dude, but he's really tall, and doesn't look like a push over.  Roger is just intimidating in every possible way, including his personality, even when he's just standing there doing nothing.  I realized that Shayne would probably walk away, and felt a measure of disappointment that I would not be trading blows with him; the only time in my life when I would have done so with anyone.  "Whatever, you stupid bitch," he said.  I tried, I really tried, but I couldn't stop the condescending laughter as it burst out of me.  He turned even more red, then said "Come on," to his girl toy as they walked away.

   The day was getting late, but I suddenly realized there was one more thing we could do before heading back home.  We could go to the shrine of the Black Madonna! 

   Our friend Nigel, who is sometimes from the internet but mostly from Portland, Oregon, had visited us two years before Alty did, and had brought her (at the time) boyfriend, who was a Tucson native.  He had made a study of the cult of the Black Madonna, and told us about this wall/shrine deal, near the Tucson Convention Center.  I don't remember what street it's on, but you go south past the TCC (on Church I think? Whichever street the courthouse is on) parallel to the highway and turn right at the four way stop sign intersection, and then you go towards the highway for two to five blocks and turn left, and you go down a short way and there's this out of place wall with candles next to a curio style gift shop.  If you get close enough to the wall to take a closer look, there's rolled up pieces of paper in there, stuck in the holes of the mortar.  Nigel's boyfriend said that they are prayers to the Black Madonna from people who think they're so damned as to be irredeemable in God's eyes.  I don't know if they are or not, I didn't look at them.  It seemed rude and intrusive,  and somehow just plain wrong.

   Well, we went there, and Alty was suitably impressed, awed, and creeped out.   He dared me to shout at the wall, any old thing would do.  It was just that kind of creepy vibe, the kind where you're not sure if what brushed against your leg was a piece of seaweed or some eldritch elder god from beyond time and space. 

   "I AINT SCURRED!"  I whisper-shouted.  I hesitated for a minute, then took a deep breath. 

"IF YOU'RE GOING TO EAT THAT CHEESEBURGER, EAT THE GODDAMNED HELL OUT OF IT!"



EDIT:
Freeky,
Not above using sex to sell.

60
Apple Talk / I want your opinion, PD
« on: February 07, 2012, 05:30:00 am »
I'm writing this narrative essay, and I'm at the end.  I have two versions, and I'm not sure which is better.  At the beginning, I did similar to version 1, but I think version two looks cleaner.

Version 1:
Hai Linh, Gerty, Heisenberg and Anna tread carefully down the stairs to the next level of the dungeon.  Hai Linh was uncomfortable; it was cool and clammy, and she would have much preferred to bask in the sun, to bake until her scaly skin felt like it was glowing from all the sun it had absorbed.  She sometimes missed her homeland Xa Hoi in far off Tian, and frequently dreamed of  visiting her father's homeland Nagajor, full of warm volcanoes and her own people, the Nagaji.  People constantly mistook her for a serpentfolk, a people native to ths side of the world and apparently very vilainous.  The people she met reacted with surprise, fear, and in some cases hostility. 

Heisenberg, leading their way down and searching carefully for any traps (but not at the same time), found a tripwire.  Very thin and taught, it would have tripped the unwary, broken, and done who knows what after that.  Gerty, following him closely, had a glint in her eye that Hai Linh was coming to dread.  The blasted half-orc was feigning stupidity and incompetence again, Hai Linh was certain of it.  Nobody could live so long doing such abysmally foolish things all the time, and anyway Hai Linh had seen the barbarian use plenty of tactical ability and reasoning skills.  It had to be a sham.  Hai Linh knew what was coming as Gerty removed a torch from her pack.  Gerty didn't need light to see.  Neither did Anna and Heisenberg, they being of dwarf and half-orc persuasion respectively, and Hai Linh already had out the carcass of a glow beetle she had killed the day before.

Despite her calling of paladinhood and her beloved goddess Shelyn's teachings of tolerance and forgiveness and love for all things as well as reverance for beauty and art, Hai Linh had had enough idiocy for one day. 
(Despite not wanting to start acting like a fuckup right at the beginning of the session, I had had enough idiocy for all weekend, used up the day before when I had played with a new group, filled with players way, way worse than either myself or Ross, and a DM who doesn't know how to control a table or reward his players.)   Don't you do it, Gerty, don't you dare...  she thought to herself. (Don't you do it, Ross, don't you dare... I thought to myself.)  She placed a hand on her father's katana, ready to draw.  (I placed my hand on my d20, ready to roll.) There ought to be a law against stupidity, she thought, and any guilt she might have felt at what she knew was coming was washed away.  She would gladly pray for forgiveness later, for weeks if she had to in order to regain her deity's favor, if she could but teach this one lesson in seemingly the only way the blasted shammer pretended to know how to learn.
 
Gerty threw the torch at the wire.  Hai Linh struck out with her blade, quicker than thought.

Luckily, they both missed.[/font]

Version 2:
Hai Linh, Gerty, Heisenberg and Anna tread carefully down the stairs to the next level of the dungeon.  Hai Linh was uncomfortable; it was cool and clammy, and she would have much preferred to bask in the sun, to bake until her scaly skin felt like it was glowing from all the sun it had absorbed.  She sometimes missed her homeland Xa Hoi in far off Tian, and frequently dreamed of  visiting her father's homeland Nagajor, full of warm volcanoes and her own people, the Nagaji.  People constantly mistook her for a serpentfolk, a people native to ths side of the world and apparently very vilainous.  The people she met reacted with surprise, fear, and in some cases hostility.

Heisenberg, leading their way down and searching carefully for any traps (but not at the same time), found a tripwire.  Very thin and taught, it would have tripped the unwary, broken, and done who knows what after that.  Gerty, following him closely, had a glint in her eye that Hai Linh was coming to dread.  The blasted half-orc was feigning stupidity and incompetence again, Hai Linh was certain of it.  Nobody could live so long doing such abysmally foolish things all the time, and anyway Hai Linh had seen the barbarian use plenty of tactical ability and reasoning skills.  It had to be a sham.  Hai Linh knew what was coming as Gerty removed a torch from her pack.  Gerty didn't need light to see.  Neither did Anna and Heisenberg, they being of dwarf and half-orc persuasion respectively, and Hai Linh already had out the carcass of a glow beetle she had killed the day before.

Despite her calling of paladinhood and her beloved goddess Shelyn's teachings of tolerance and forgiveness and love for all things as well as reverance for beauty and art, Hai Linh had had enough idiocy for one day. Don't you do it, Gerty, don't you dare...  she thought to herself.  She placed a hand on her father's katana, ready to draw.  There ought to be a law against stupidity, she thought, and any guilt she might have felt at what she knew was coming was washed away.  She would gladly pray for forgiveness later, for weeks if she had to in order to regain her deity's favor, if she could but teach this one lesson in seemingly the only way the blasted shammer pretended to know how to learn.
 
Gerty threw the torch at the wire.  Hai Linh struck out with her blade, quicker than thought.

Luckily, they both missed.

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