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GM's Thread About Everything/GM's Thread About Nothing (9 Viewers)

he shouts over me "that's my daughter, ####### #######- she's only 11".
"Better be careful, she's turning into a bitsh like her dad"

Then you reach through the closing doors to drop an imaginary microphone, but to your horror engage the safety mechanism, forcing the doors to reopen as the 11 year old grabs the crotch end of your scarf and the dad pummels you with a rock.  

Later in the week, when you go to pick up Floppinho at school, he's in good spirits because the girl in his school play loved the story of his dad getting taken to a different kind of school of rock when he pushed an 11 year old.  Unfortunately, the 6th grade class - all 11 years old themselves - come out to the pickup line to see the tough guy who pushed their friend.  One of them asks "is that him", and the 11 year old who you'd shoved emerges from the crowd and says yeah. They start rocking your car while floppinho watches in horror, while her dad comes out to pick her up and sees you again. 

When you get to floppinho's audition, to his horror, you see her again. Escorted by her father. The casting director. With feigned sadness, you leave before the audition begins.

The moral to the story to parents everywhere is that if you don't want to do something, just be an #######, and you might annoy someone who will keep you from having to do it. 

 
I'm still commuting to work with my feet, despite the daily deluge of rain.  Today I almost cried halfway to the office; not that it would have mattered.  My pants are just now starting to dry.  Once this cobalt trade is consummated, I'm retiring to Arizona.  I'm done with this.
Start investing in sun burns 

 
I appreciate the opportunities Scouting is giving me and my son, but they have  some perverse aversion to anything remotely sports/leisure related. In other words, while you guys were getting emails from the future, teaching your kids to flirt with secretaries,  getting into subway fights, and possibly enjoying March Madness and St. Patrick's day, I spent from 6PM Friday to noon today taking a Wilderness First Aid class for our  backpacking trip this summer. 

Their ability to schedule things in direct conflict with anything else I might want to do, and then give me two free nights to stew about it, is uncanny.

Hope nobody gets bit by a snake, scorpion, or enraged architect this summer, because I may or may not have been checking scores on my phone for that chapter.

 
When watching  THIS about a model that was killed on the traintracks during a photo shoot she was doing, I instantly thought

"I really need to update the title of bostonfred's link thread to Fredzania."

 
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Holy crap, you guys. HOLY CRAP.

I met this Indian chick about 10 years ago, but got nowhere romantically with her (if some of you were on that Yahoo Underground dating site we had set up back then - I know at least one current poster was - you may recall me talking about her). She's a trip and speaks great English, but doesn't have the filter that we are sometimes stuck with. Anyway, I just got a text out of the blue saying "Hi, Bill. How are you? I am feeling carnal. What is your address?".

She drinks trash beer faster than anyone I've ever met (and that's a heavy admission coming from me), but never gets drunk. She's freaking brilliant (she runs a high-level US Government department), but also bites the filter off of a cigarette before smoking it.
Sounds like you two are cumin around. 

 
 :ʇoɥ: ɹǝdǝǝɹɔ ǝɔᴉɟɟo ǝɥʇ sɐʍ ʇᴉ ǝɹns ʎʇʇǝɹd  ˙uoouɹǝʇɟɐ sᴉɥʇ ʞɹoʍ ʇɐ pɹɐoqʎǝʞ ʎɯ ɥʇᴉʍ pǝʞɔnɟ ǝuoǝɯos

 
 :ʇoɥ: ɹǝdǝǝɹɔ ǝɔᴉɟɟo ǝɥʇ sɐʍ ʇᴉ ǝɹns ʎʇʇǝɹd  ˙uoouɹǝʇɟɐ sᴉɥʇ ʞɹoʍ ʇɐ pɹɐoqʎǝʞ ʎɯ ɥʇᴉʍ pǝʞɔnɟ ǝuoǝɯos
 snoıɹɐlıɥ ǝq plnoʍ ʇɐɥʇ ¿ʎzɐɹɔ ǝq ʇɐɥʇ ʇ,uplnoʍ  ¿pɹɐoqʎǝʞ ɹnoʎ ɥʇıʍ pǝssǝɯ ʇɐɥʇ ʎnƃ ʇɐɥʇ sɐʍ ʇı ɟı ǝuıƃɐɯı noʎ plnoɔ ƃɯo

 
Reg Lllama of Brixton said:
 snoıɹɐlıɥ ǝq plnoʍ ʇɐɥʇ ¿ʎzɐɹɔ ǝq ʇɐɥʇ ʇ,uplnoʍ  ¿pɹɐoqʎǝʞ ɹnoʎ ɥʇıʍ pǝssǝɯ ʇɐɥʇ ʎnƃ ʇɐɥʇ sɐʍ ʇı ɟı ǝuıƃɐɯı noʎ plnoɔ ƃɯo
:ʇoɥ:

 
For the hikers. I hurt my back last week so I've been bed/chair ridden a few days, which is why I'm hanging out around here. Yesterday I was feeling better and decided to go for a walk. Many around here (Mojave desert) are talking about the wildflower super bloom. So rather than my usual challenging route, I drove my weak back to some basalt fields that have better scenery and the reported super bloom. A mile of walking, feeling no pain, I came to a rolling field littered with van sized lava rocks and covered in golden poppies and purple verbena. A ten acre tie dyed Lakers uniform. So I left the trail to wander through. A fat Red Racer slithered through flowers into a den under a massive rock. Dozens of little puppy bunnies scurried about the rare colorful growth. The ground teemed with black polka dotted green caterpillars. Birdsong filled the oddly moist air. A flock of small white butterflies lifted around me like a cloud of fairies. The desert has been barren, dusty, and dry for years during the drought. As I considered how unique this moment truly seemed, a low pitched sustained thunder shattered the sky. An F-18, blue and gold, 300 feet above a color matched landscape, barely subsonic, overhead, then gone vertical.  Chuck Yeager leaving the atmosphere at 2017 speeds. The floral field of bunnies and butterflies gave me childish joy, and this booming beast in the sky indeed filled me precisely with shock and awe. Two more roared overhead and banked left and right as they hit the vertical climb. They made two massive inverted loops, smoke trails painting a 5 mile high heart on the sky above me. I hiked into the backdoor of yesterday's Blue Angels show. I could see the air field in the distance beyond two surreal darts coming at me low and terrifying, speed and power so ridiculous. The horror they must invoke when doing business. Just whoa... alone in a blooming desert of baby bunnies and fairy butterflies. I felt vulnerable, a synaptic malfunction of oh #### Trump knows what I said. As the combination of fragrant delicate cuddly nature providing no protection and brutal war technology bearing down on my position juxtaposed in my unfortunately sober mind, a petite young nudist with 34Bs rose from the bunnies, butterflies and flowers between us and did everything in her power to save me and cause pilot error. Arms waving joyfully at the terror in sky, she bounced and twirled to follow the jet fighters as they roared overhead only to see grinning me sheepishly waving thank you, which caused her to nosedive into the floral cover, which caused a half dozen little faces to pop up from the behind a large lava rock framed in verbena and poppies, one of which called me a pervert. :shrug:

 
For the hikers. I hurt my back last week so I've been bed/chair ridden a few days, which is why I'm hanging out around here. Yesterday I was feeling better and decided to go for a walk. Many around here (Mojave desert) are talking about the wildflower super bloom. So rather than my usual challenging route, I drove my weak back to some basalt fields that have better scenery and the reported super bloom. A mile of walking, feeling no pain, I came to a rolling field littered with van sized lava rocks and covered in golden poppies and purple verbena. A ten acre tie dyed Lakers uniform. So I left the trail to wander through. A fat Red Racer slithered through flowers into a den under a massive rock. Dozens of little puppy bunnies scurried about the rare colorful growth. The ground teemed with black polka dotted green caterpillars. Birdsong filled the oddly moist air. A flock of small white butterflies lifted around me like a cloud of fairies. The desert has been barren, dusty, and dry for years during the drought. As I considered how unique this moment truly seemed, a low pitched sustained thunder shattered the sky. An F-18, blue and gold, 300 feet above a color matched landscape, barely subsonic, overhead, then gone vertical.  Chuck Yeager leaving the atmosphere at 2017 speeds. The floral field of bunnies and butterflies gave me childish joy, and this booming beast in the sky indeed filled me precisely with shock and awe. Two more roared overhead and banked left and right as they hit the vertical climb. They made two massive inverted loops, smoke trails painting a 5 mile high heart on the sky above me. I hiked into the backdoor of yesterday's Blue Angels show. I could see the air field in the distance beyond two surreal darts coming at me low and terrifying, speed and power so ridiculous. The horror they must invoke when doing business. Just whoa... alone in a blooming desert of baby bunnies and fairy butterflies. I felt vulnerable, a synaptic malfunction of oh #### Trump knows what I said. As the combination of fragrant delicate cuddly nature providing no protection and brutal war technology bearing down on my position juxtaposed in my unfortunately sober mind, a petite young nudist with 34Bs rose from the bunnies, butterflies and flowers between us and did everything in her power to save me and cause pilot error. Arms waving joyfully at the terror in sky, she bounced and twirled to follow the jet fighters as they roared overhead only to see grinning me sheepishly waving thank you, which caused her to nosedive into the floral cover, which caused a half dozen little faces to pop up from the behind a large lava rock framed in verbena and poppies, one of which called me a pervert. :shrug:
more of this please. fantastic post.

 

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