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Mumpy
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Mumpy » Fri Nov 18, 2011 4:07 am UTC

Ha, not too bad an idea. Though I think I'll still stick with my 'live in a lefty commune' one for the foreseeable.

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Kewangji
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Kewangji » Fri Nov 18, 2011 4:13 am UTC

Also it would go very creepy when you start noticing sounds from the recorder you could swear you didn't put in there, and hadn't heard before.
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Mumpy » Fri Nov 18, 2011 4:17 am UTC

Ohshitdon'tsaythat.

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Magnanimous » Fri Nov 18, 2011 4:22 am UTC

Kewangji wrote:Also it would go very creepy when you start noticing sounds from the recorder you could swear you didn't put in there, and hadn't heard before.

I will love you forever if you write this story.

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Kewangji » Fri Nov 18, 2011 4:22 am UTC

Magnanimous wrote:
Kewangji wrote:Also it would go very creepy when you start noticing sounds from the recorder you could swear you didn't put in there, and hadn't heard before.

I will love you forever if you write this story.

Give me five hours.


Mumpy wrote:Ohshitdon'tsaythat.

Mmmmph. <3
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Mumpy » Fri Nov 18, 2011 4:50 am UTC

<3


(Looks around nervously)

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Kewangji » Fri Nov 18, 2011 9:25 am UTC

Story decided to be three times as long as I thought it would be. I see I overshot my deadline by 3 minutes. :(

Mumpy wrote:(Looks around nervously)
Speaking of looking around nervously – I'll be sending you another part of the zombie thing later this month, if that is alright with you?

~

The Marringrove Difficulties
Pt I – the silence moves in

It was at the end of his life, 35 years of age, that John Ameser inherited the Marringrove villa from a deceased uncle. Bewildered, he didn't have time to mourn the end of his life in all the excitement of moving into a new house: one with two libraries, a bunch of paintings, a wine cellar, big windows, sturdy walls, and an awful lot of silence.

The silence unnerved him. It unnerved him in a very specific, not very definable way. He'd always lived alone, for as long as he'd remembered, so he didn't understand what was going on in his psyche when the lack of sounds disturbed him so. John wasn't a man to listen to music very often, he found it disruptive of his thought processes. On three separate occasions in his first month of living at the Marringrove did he feel unnerved enough to go to the local pub – an establishment called The Revenge, which came from a long time ago, when the sea was still rising and sailors still liked to show up in the port town – and make attempts at friends.

The silence still waited for him when he came back home. It became unbearable. He bought a television, and then he paced back and forth to the silence until the people in the van came to install it for him. This was great – for a few moments – until the installer people left. There he was with a television apparatus he did not have a need for, which made unnatural noises and told him of the world outside. "This is not what I wanted," he explained to the person on the other side of the telephone. "What I wanted was something that could be here."

"Excuse me?" the telephonist said.

"I … I wanted something that made sounds to get rid of this bloody silence, but this is nothing but a fancified radio, and I've no need to know the news or see the latest plays. I want things that happen in my home, frankly, this is not what you advertised, as you said it would be just like if the people in that damned box were here with me!"

"Well, I'm sorry. It's a TV, not a family."

A look of relief grew on Mr. Ameser's face. "Of course," he said, to no-one. He hung up the phone.



Armed with a recording device with battery and memory enough for three days, John moved in with a cousin, to the shock and confusion of said cousin, with the explanation that uncle Taich's place was 'full of rats'. She didn't find the courage to tell him to piss off until the fourth day of his visit, but then he was already gone, taking her family's laughter and fights and the way they scraped their chairs on the kitchen floor when they ate and the time the armchair fell over and the way their house creaked at night all with him, in a little box. He even took the hilarious and insistent door-to-door salesman.

With these new sounds, John was happy for at least a month. He didn't sit right next to the box, because then it was just a radio, but he put it plugged in in a room he never used, set on repeat and loudly so. He liked to walk around the Marringrove villa, he did, and the obviousness of the sounds' artificialness bothered him when he kept the box in his bedroom or the kitchen – when John could see where they were coming from, they lost their magic and valour.

After a while, he'd learnt to expect the ebb and flow of the family's gnabbing and teasing, the doors opening and closing, the sounds different people being home. During his stay at his cousin's, he'd stayed as quiet as possible, as it would unnerve him to be in two places at once. Perversely, he sometimes felt he was getting to know them far more intimately than he intended, for in the middle of the night there were always the quiet, personal sounds of his cousins' dog's snoring, her children's tiptoeing after a nightmare to come sleep in mommy's bed, and the almost zombielike urination of her husband.

There were not many conversations he could hear more than snippets from, but eventually he knew those snippets by heart.

The silence was no more in the Ameser home, having been defeated by the brave and cunning John.


Pt II – John Ameser had a baby


The Marringrove difficulties didn't end there though, alas, they continued but in another form. One night in the bleak of July, when the sea still receded and even the most optimistic of post-prophets turned their signs upside down, something happened. John was ushering himself into sleep by counting down to the next sounds – soon his house, for he had begun to think of it as his house making these noises, down to the children's giggles – and his prediction failed.

Well, John thought the next day, I must have fallen asleep and forgot about it. It would not disappear from his mind, though, and even though he expected every sound, they startled him that day. It was a Herman Melville day, but John could not focus on the books. He knew he needed to do something the moments after he realized he'd been leafing through empty pages for twenty minutes, and that Pequod had already been sunk or however the book ended, forty pages or so ago. He had not, evidently, been paying attention.

John was a sad drunk, and no-one wanted to talk to him, but he did forget. The Revenge left him with a headache and the family waited for him still when he came home, a lot more amicable than the silence whose place they took. He turned on the television for whatever reason, perhaps he wanted his thought processes blocked out now, and he fell asleep to an old movie in black and white.

He woke up to a snowstorm on his screen. It startled him, its hissing, for he'd been deep in dreams before this surfacing, and it took him more than a moment to shut the TV off and relocate the family's sounds. They were still … there. Sans breakfast, and not really feeling like breakfast either, John leant back in his couch and listened to them.

He always sat up straight at this part – the daughters were having a conversation and soon, in just three dialogue lines they would accidentally knock the armchair over and collapse themselves, into fits of giggles. He strained to hear all their words, as the house was alive in many other ways than just this.

"When I grow up," Ferra said, "I'm going to be a moonstronaut."

"That's not a word!" Ferra's elder sister Amy, John knew, owned a dictionary. She would know, he chuckled.

"It so is a word."

"Nuh uh."

"You fink all the words are in your stupid book but they're not!"

"Well you can't just make up words!"

"Can too! Just watch me! Fubble! Gabberbah! Junser!"

John Ameser's face had lost all colour. He paced back and forth, he threw the Moby Dick book away, out into the garden in fact. He looked deep into the bathroom mirror – incidentally the furthest away from the sounds – to see if there were any signs he'd lost his mind, before having the thought that he knew no signs as such that he could see by examining himself.

But the doctor proclaimed him completely healthy, so he went to bed with unease. He was certain he'd remembered them pushing the armchair over and starting to laugh … obviously, it had happened another time, and he was mixing them together. Some people drink to forget, John had just succeeded, that was all. There was no earthly way to change a recording like that, but it was very easy for wires in one's brain to get crossed on accident.

Very surely, his couch had been knocked over at the time he awoke the next day. With some effort, he raised the antique piece of furniture to its feet again, and he sat down in it. Today was not a day to go outside, there was a snowstorm in every single window. He'd better stay inside.

Yes.

The day did not pass quickly. But it must be awfully cold outside, John could feel it in his bones whenever he got out of his couch. When he moved, the family moved with him – even when he just moved to make tea. Their sounds were the same, predictable, they just moved with him. He read Poe, Boye, Zamyatin, and Lindgren that day. They all blended together to a nasty dream the same night.


Pt III – he turned the box thing off ages ago


A little girl awoke with a scream in the Marringrove villa. She inhaled heavily and her sobs echoed out along the hallways, twisted and dark as they were and her sister, sleeping in another bed the opposite side of the room, slept like a rock. Composing herself to figure out the most rational course of action, Ferra stared at her shoes, the way they looked inviting and soft and decided they were definitely a trap. On her toes, she ran to her mother's bedroom and woke the woman up with a persistent shaking of her shoulders. Whispers. John Ameser shook his head like his cousin's shoulder, this was not something that was happening.

He opened a window to let the night in, awaken himself completely with its cold. There was a bed of crystal-white smoothness in his garden, and it had fully swallowed Moby Dick.

When he could no longer feel his fingers or toes, John shut the window, absolutely aware that he'd let the night in and closing the window wouldn't help him. But he was awake now.

He felt like the ocean when he climbed down the stairs – these were the old kind of stairs, the dangerous ones with ridiculously tiny steps, he could never go down them in the middle of the night without full clarity of mind.

As he made tea, John felt the cold of the night leave him. He laughed a little, despite himself – today was the day with the salesman. He replayed that part to himself inside his head, as he listened intensely to the way his house creaked. In the middle of the replay, someone opened the fridge – a night meal. John averted his eyes, still used to the night's darkness. Surely the husband, John thought. Oh, man, the husband was surely not even aware that he was doing it, just like he waltzed up the stairs and went to the loo. It was all so rote by now. If someone were to place, say, a skateboard, in his path, he would step on it and hit his head.

John didn't laugh at that. That was sad.

He made tea again and again, waking up more and more with each cup.

~

A pling-plong from the doorbell.

A patient voice, versus an insistent one.

The voices getting angrier and more and more polite, respectively, Until the door was slammed shut hard enough to make the cracks audible. The giggles of the little girls, who were staring wide-eyed at their mother by now, and then the utterly kneeslappingly hilarious second pling-plong of the doorbell.

At an impulse, John went to open the door. He was only wearing a bathrobe, so it would be cold.

He stopped at the door handle, hand just almost touching it. He used to have doorknobs. No, he didn't. And the sounds were like that always. They didn't change. The outsides were always a bad place, and you shouldn't let the night in. His daughters might get hurt by the night. Books had never had words in them, that was not what books were for. They got all the water they needed from the sky, they could not take it from the ocean. He shuddered, and just opened the bloody door.

"See?" he said to Amy, the eldest girl. "Told you there was no-one there. Now, go to the study and look at the pictures, go imagine things."
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby ArgonV » Sat Nov 19, 2011 1:15 am UTC

Damn, I wanted to post something, but it seems dwarved by the above post...

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Kewangji » Sat Nov 19, 2011 3:31 am UTC

ArgonV wrote:Damn, I wanted to post something, but it seems dwarved by the above post...

Eep, I'm sorry. :(
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Dason » Sat Nov 19, 2011 4:08 am UTC

Kewangji wrote:
ArgonV wrote:Damn, I wanted to post something, but it seems dwarved by the above post...

Eep, I'm sorry. :(

Yes that's right - apologize for your awesomeness! You better apologize extra hard this time and you better let it happen again.
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Menacing Spike » Sat Nov 19, 2011 2:02 pm UTC

Dason wrote:
Kewangji wrote:
ArgonV wrote:Damn, I wanted to post something, but it seems dwarved by the above post...

Eep, I'm sorry. :(

Yes that's right - apologize for your awesomeness! You better apologize extra hard this time and you better let it happen again.


I'm sorry for him being sorry. Sorry.

Wait, maybe my apology for him was unsolicited. Sorry!

edit: blarhahgh this "student portfolio" coursework is so boring. Before I noticed it my "solutions to lack of drive" paragraph has turned into car puns and sarcastic digs at the lecturer.

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby SurgicalSteel » Sat Nov 19, 2011 11:27 pm UTC

I bought a monthly planning calendar (one of these things in case my wording is dumb) and didn't realize it doesn't start until January 2012. It'll be useless for the next month and a half :(
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Anchorman screams that he's seen a monster (mayday)
There's blood stains on his shirt (mayday)
They say that he's gone berserk."
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby emceng » Mon Nov 21, 2011 8:37 pm UTC

I thought I was starting to catch back up at work. Then this morning I find out one of our guys is leaving for a new job. Great. Anyone know a shit-ton about Labview, and have a degree in electrical engineering?
When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up. - CS Lewis

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Ptolom » Mon Nov 21, 2011 9:22 pm UTC

Well done Mother. In twenty seconds you reduced my productive work flow into an anxiety attack. It's rare for me to be able to properly focus my attention on anything productive, and as soon as I manage it I'm hassled by someone who wants me to focus on something else.

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby The Scyphozoa » Tue Nov 22, 2011 2:17 am UTC

Me: So I need to retake this test.
Mom: You should do that tomorrow, then.
Me: I can't, I haven't prepared for it.
Mom: *GIGANTIC GASP*
Me: (frantically) Because I just saw what I got on it today!

I can't think of very many things that my mom SHOULDN'T calm down about.
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Kang » Tue Nov 22, 2011 7:50 pm UTC

Speaking of mothers and the weird things they love to do:
1.: Mother asks opinion on something.
2.: Response is different from what was expected. Get mad.
3.: Question why my opinon is even asked in the first place, if it gets discarded right away anyhow.
4.: Spend the rest of the day in the 'why are you so rude to me without any reason?' cycle.

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby podbaydoor » Tue Nov 22, 2011 8:27 pm UTC

I hate that cycle. Any attempt I make to argue with something my mom said that was wrong, is chalked up to me "not allowing her to have any opinions."
tenet |ˈtenit|
noun
a principle or belief, esp. one of the main principles of a religion or philosophy : the tenets of classical liberalism.
tenant |ˈtenənt|
noun
a person who occupies land or property rented from a landlord.

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby rrwoods » Tue Nov 22, 2011 8:48 pm UTC

My 'favorite' is "I'm not going to argue with you." The impression that the word "argue" was negative took me years to shake. In fact I'm still not sure I've shaken it.
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Menacing Spike » Tue Nov 22, 2011 9:11 pm UTC

rrwoods wrote:My 'favorite' is "I'm not going to argue with you." The impression that the word "argue" was negative took me years to shake. In fact I'm still not sure I've shaken it.


That's debatable, then?

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby RollingHead » Tue Nov 22, 2011 9:38 pm UTC

That story was awesome, Kewangji!
Back on topic, tomorrow I have my only mandatory lesson in the semester and I'm sick, dragging myself to the lab tomorrow is going to suck.

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby e^iπ+1=0 » Fri Nov 25, 2011 4:05 am UTC

I was already having trouble this week balancing going to lectures, doing work, doing chores and shit, socializing, having time to myself, sleeping, actually remembering to eat... so why the fuck am I still up at 4am?
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby farnsworth » Sat Nov 26, 2011 4:30 am UTC

Existential crisis. OH NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN.

Spoiler:
NOTE TO SELF: Your purpose in life is to LIVE, not worry about whether you'll matter in 1000 years. GO OUT AND DO SOMETHING FUN.

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Amarantha » Sat Nov 26, 2011 11:08 am UTC

Rant: that my job is taking so much of my time that I haven't been able to come to the fora for like two weeks. TWO. WEEKS. Even when it's not go-live week, I can barely get here weekly. I wouldn't mind so much that the clients want us working all hours to fix unforeseen problems, if only said problems weren't caused by their own bloody ineptitude in the first place. WE PROVISIONED ALL THE USERS YOU SENT US. IF THERE ARE ANY MISSING, WHY SHOULD WE BE UP ALL NIGHT WEDGING THEM IN?

Similar rant: I haven't been reading Kewangji's stories on G+, because I haven't found the time for that either. And thanks to the one above, I now know what I'm missing. *tries to make the time*

Totally separate rant: Having to make rather extreme lifestyles changes due to skin condition becoming exponentially worse all of a sudden. Not that I don't love my long, loose rayon dresses, but it was kind of practical being able to wear jeans to work. Fuck knows what I'll do in winter if this status persists. Next step: shorter hairstyle. I wonder if I can rock Morena Baccarin's look from V. I'll miss the pointy bits that stick out from under my cloches, though. Oh wait, that's right. I can't wear fucking hats. *swears some more*
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Amie » Sat Nov 26, 2011 2:55 pm UTC

Thesis submission: Day after.
Dept. head's NEW formatting plan: This afternoon.

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Someone do me a favour and shoot me!
Summer is miles and miles away, and no one would ask me to stay.
And I, should contemplate this change... to ease the pain.
And I, should step out of the rain... turn away.

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Jave D » Sat Nov 26, 2011 5:20 pm UTC

Why is it that if I want to move to Montana and start a cult and recruit fanatical followers to manage the compound and tend to my every whim, that's a bad idea? It sounds pretty cool, actually. Yet I have the feeling that because it sounds pretty cool to me (really) that it's probably an even worse idea than if it only sounds sorta okay. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm not a prophet and should be grateful for things I have (which don't, as of yet, include zealous slaves to my will.)

I'm not really considering it, don't worry.

I mean, I am.

But don't worry.

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Ptolom » Sat Nov 26, 2011 6:45 pm UTC

Jave D wrote:Why is it that if I want to move to Montana and start a cult and recruit fanatical followers to manage the compound and tend to my every whim, that's a bad idea? It sounds pretty cool, actually. Yet I have the feeling that because it sounds pretty cool to me (really) that it's probably an even worse idea than if it only sounds sorta okay. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm not a prophet and should be grateful for things I have (which don't, as of yet, include zealous slaves to my will.)

I'm not really considering it, don't worry.

I mean, I am.

But don't worry.

You should do it. Just be careful not to start believing your own crap. Then you can write a psychological paper on people's willingness to become zealous slaves if you have impressive enough robes and body odour.

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Jave D » Sat Nov 26, 2011 7:28 pm UTC

That's what I need. Impressive robes.

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Van » Sat Nov 26, 2011 9:42 pm UTC

Jave D wrote:Why is it that if I want to move to Montana and start a cult [...] Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm not a prophet [...]
Just keep in mind there will be a lot of rules and red tape you'll have to deal with if you decide to give it a shot. They tend to be pretty particular about non-prophet organizations.
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You say that you disapprove of sex outside of marriage, but you are fucking your mom. (Ad mominem.)

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Kang » Sat Nov 26, 2011 10:05 pm UTC

Also don't burn down your whole place when the ATF comes knocking. That's generally frowned upon.

Rant: How comes someone can spend an afternoon mocking my first decision on something as horrible just to miraculously join that point of view just as I'm starting to think about switching to what they suggested?

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby SlyReaper » Sat Nov 26, 2011 10:21 pm UTC

Van wrote:
Jave D wrote:Why is it that if I want to move to Montana and start a cult [...] Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm not a prophet [...]
Just keep in mind there will be a lot of rules and red tape you'll have to deal with if you decide to give it a shot. They tend to be pretty particular about non-prophet organizations.

*groan*
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby bigglesworth » Sat Nov 26, 2011 10:28 pm UTC

Kang wrote:Rant: How comes someone can spend an afternoon mocking my first decision on something as horrible just to miraculously join that point of view just as I'm starting to think about switching to what they suggested?
Extreme dissonance requires extreme counter-action to justify yourself.
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Hawknc » Sun Nov 27, 2011 2:55 am UTC

Van wrote:
Jave D wrote:Why is it that if I want to move to Montana and start a cult [...] Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm not a prophet [...]
Just keep in mind there will be a lot of rules and red tape you'll have to deal with if you decide to give it a shot. They tend to be pretty particular about non-prophet organizations.

Posts like this are why this place needs an upvote system.

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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Menacing Spike » Sun Nov 27, 2011 3:04 am UTC

Hawknc wrote:Posts like this are why this place needs an upvote system.


Yes, clearly we must be judged by the eyes of others, even on the internet. Have you seen what Karma did to reddit?

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Triangle_Man
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Triangle_Man » Sun Nov 27, 2011 7:12 am UTC

I really should be working right now, but somehow I don't have the energy.

The Mighty Thesaurus wrote:My moral system allows me to bitch slap you for typing that.

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Giant Speck
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Giant Speck » Sun Nov 27, 2011 1:07 pm UTC

Today starts the third day without caffeine. I had a withdrawal headache so bad it woke me up at three in the morning.
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Kang
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Kang » Sun Nov 27, 2011 10:27 pm UTC


Ah, I should have known that I'd look silly for arguing that the United States wasn't nearly as bad a place as people around here want me to believe.

P.S.: Around here as in where I live. Specifically in schools and universities.

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Mousou
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Mousou » Mon Nov 28, 2011 7:15 am UTC

Giant Speck wrote:Today starts the third day without caffeine
I wish I had your willpower so I could do something about my own caffeine addiction.

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Jessica
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Jessica » Mon Nov 28, 2011 5:36 pm UTC


As much as I would like to say it is real and not overblown, it seems to be a little overblown. At least, assuming the link to the actual bill in question, and not to an older version. A quick google search shows most articles in agreement with the ACLU sponsored link, only this link being actively opposed on the first page. Random wordpress blog of "unknown" bias (I didn't really read much of it), vs ACLU article of known left wing bias. I would say read the bill (assuming that link I gave was accurate) and make your own judgment.
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Giant Speck
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Giant Speck » Mon Nov 28, 2011 6:23 pm UTC

Mousou wrote:
Giant Speck wrote:Today starts the third day without caffeine
I wish I had your willpower so I could do something about my own caffeine addiction.

It actually started by accident. I was late for work and forgot to bring a couple cans of soda from home. All they had in the snack fridge at work was water.
"Did I say recently that I love Giant Speck? Because I love Giant Speck. He is the best." - Weeks
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Re: Pant Thread (because we need more panting)

Postby Jave D » Mon Nov 28, 2011 10:29 pm UTC

My head hurts, my neck aches, I'm tired, my nose runs, my clothes are dirty, I'd probably fuck a snake if someone held it straight for me... but otherwise things are going great!


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