cash crab posted:

Hi my name is Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that’s how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he’s a major loving hottie. I’m a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I’m also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I’m in the seventh year (I’m seventeen). I’m a goth (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

“Hey Ebony!” shouted a voice. I looked up. It was…. Draco Malfoy!

“What’s up Draco?” I asked.

“Nothing.” he said shyly.

Khazar-khum posted:

Brother


Yaoi


Guy


Guy II

Paladinus posted:

It's like a bad lecture on a famous artist, only the artist is famous for doodling animes in her notebook and isn't actually famous.

moosecow333 posted:

What does it even mean to "Bridget-drop" someone? Is it a reference to the Guilty Gear character? Do I even want to know?

razorrozar posted:

Look, My Immortal is easy mode.

_{I'm kind of ashamed that I recognized that within 5 words}

razorrozar posted:

Look, My Immortal is easy mode.

_{I'm kind of ashamed that I recognized that within 5 words}

quote:

I have been asked to tell the following story many times, and it became so famous that I was even asked to record it for NPR.

I worked for a high-tech company when high-tech was just starting to make an impact on the world. This was before the internet, even before everyone had PCs. We had one IBM PC for the entire department and it was a thrill to use it. I say this just to give an impression of how things have changed since then.

Our company made high speed modems, but the fastest anyone could do in those days was 9600bps, and you paid 10,000 dollars a piece for each modem -- and you needed at least two of them, one for each end. We had invented a mechanism that would double that rate to 19,200bps, which was like lightning at the time. The benefits were immediately apparent and every major company wanted them, drat the cost. Unfortunately, the techniques we were using were in their infancy and had lots of bugs. Even though we were selling them like ice cream on a hot day, they didn't really work as advertised.

A huge oil company bought a massive amount of product. Their plan was to link all of their gas stations across the US to the their central site and have the managers report daily sales to the home office. This previously had been done by mail or phone and was slow and inefficient. With a modem system they could know what their revenues were to the penny overnight, or even several times during the day. They did some cursory testing on the devices and rolled them out. But they didn't work.

Our engineers worked day and night to fix the issues but it turned out to be intractable. There were grave concerns that we might never solve the problem. Our salesman for the company was a brave and confident expert with years of experience but he was becoming increasingly despondent. The customer was agitated and angry and threatening to return the product. This would have been a huge setback, possibly a death blow to the company. They were by far our biggest customer and by far the biggest sale we had ever achieved. And the salesman would not get his commission.

I was the manager of the business unit, newly promoted into the role at the age of 26. I thought I was something special, and to be honest if not modest, I was a world-wide expert on these technologies and frequently flown around the world to solve problems. But what I didn't know was that behind the scenes the senior managers of this customer were now DEMANDING a reckoning with our company. Our management knew it was the end if we did not have a solution, and we had no solution.

The salesman set up a meeting with the Senior Vice President of this oil company, a man who probably had the power to overthrow third world countries or have people killed. Suddenly, the President of our company had pressing business in Europe. So did every other executive down the line until, casting about, they looked at me. I was to be the sacrificial lamb they would send to the slaughter. I was told to go "make nice" with the customer to buy more time. I was unaware of the political issues behind the scene. If I failed, I would be unceremoniously fired as a token of good faith. The salesman knew it. I did not.

Thinking this was going to be yet another triumphant visit, and with a swelled head, I went out, bought a new suit and briefcase and flew from Boston to the West Coast. I didn't even have anything to put in the briefcase except a pad and pencil since I wasn't given any progress report, possible solutions or any token that might mollify them. Management was so certain of disaster that they thought it best I go completely in the dark.

I was picked up by our salesman in his new Jaguar , along with our field engineer, both of whom knew the gravity of our situation and how dire things were. I was cheerful and humming in the car as I took in the sights. I was surprised by their gloomy silence until we got to the customer's campus. I had never seen anything like it before. Oil money can buy anything, and this building was modern and massive, the lobby was an art museum with original paintings by the Masters.

We didn't even have to wait. As soon as we announced ourselves we were shown to a conference room. This is when I really got scared. The room was huge with an impossibly long conference table surrounded by the most expensive leather chairs money could buy. There were tuxedoed waiters with white gloves bringing crystal glasses for the pitchers of water. There was a stenographer with a real steno machine to take the minutes. The room was already filled with executives and lawyers speaking to each other in low voices and grim expressions. I knew then that I was doomed.

Finally the door opened and the SVP came in. A hush fell over the room. Here was a man that everyone in that room feared and respected. You could feel the power and electricity coming from him as he strode in. He sat directly opposite me. I blinked stupidly as the sweat rolled down my sides. Next to me our salesman was gripping his Mont Blanc pen like a drowning sailor clutches at a piece of driftwood. On my right the SE sat stoically. No matter what happened, he would be safe -- unless the company went broke because of this debacle.

The SVP opened the meeting as if it were a legal proceeding, reading a summary of the problem and all the actions taken to date, emphasizing our failure to solve it. As he got into it he became angrier and angrier. He started pounding the table and he got red as he spoke of how much time and money had been wasted and spoke of "fraud" and "malfeasance" and "misrepresentation". All of this vitriol was directed at me. He was further insulted that our company had the nerve to send me, of all people, not even a VP. Finally he pointed at me and said in a harsh voice, "If you can't fix this problem today, right now, around town your name isn't going to be worth squat!"

And then he sat back in his chair. I can still hear the leather creaking. There wasn't another sound in the room. Every eye was on me now, and what I would say next. I had nothing. I didn't even have anything in my briefcase to fumble with for time.

And then, without even thinking, I said, "Around town it was well known that when they got home at night their fat and psychopathic wives would thrash them within inches of their lives"

I couldn't believe my own ears. I couldn't believe I had just said that. To my left, our salesman looked at me in horror and tried to pull himself away from me in his chair. The SE had his mouth open. So did all the important lawyers in their suits and suspenders. Even the stenographer looked up from her machine at me. I was well and truly hosed. The SVP wound up to scream at me and I flinched.

Then he stopped.

"Wait a minute," he said, "I know that line..."
"Yes," I whispered, "It's from Pink Floyd's 'The Wall' album."
He said, "I knew that. You like Pink Floyd?"
"Yes," I said, "It's my favorite group."
"Mine too," he said, suddenly smiling and getting up, "I saw the 'Wall' concert in LA in 1980. It was fantastic! I even caught one of Gilmour's guitar picks. I have it framed in my office with the ticket stubs. Come on, I'll show you!"

And he got up and walked over to the door. I numbly followed. My ears were ringing and I knew I stunk of sweat and fear. The people in the room were dumbstruck. Everyone had their mouths open or were looking at us in absolute amazement. No one said a word.

As we left the room, the SVP smiled and said to the room, "Oh, we'll give them a few more weeks," and he waved them off and we went down the hall. The rest of the visit passed in a blur.

The salesman was pounding the wheel and laughing out loud on the trip back to the airport. "We gotta get you a great big steak," he said, "You know, you can only get away with that once in your career." The SE didn't say a thing except, "I like Pink Floyd too."

When I got back to the office I was the hero of the hour. The salesman had called and related the story to everyone he could reach, and I was called into a meeting to recount the adventure. Everyone was laughing and slapping me on the back. It felt good to be the hero for once: tomorrow I would once again be the goat, I was sure. Over the next few weeks we had a dramatic breakthrough in Engineering and the problem was solved, the situation resolved, the customer saved. They went on to buy many thousands more modems. Pink Floyd saved the day.

republicant posted:

Absurd Alhazred posted:

It was reasonably written and easy to follow, which is more than I can say for what "This Troper" keeps writing.

quote:

I have been asked to tell the following story many times, and it became so famous that I was even asked to record it for NPR.

I worked for a high-tech company when high-tech was just starting to make an impact on the world. This was before the internet, even before everyone had PCs. We had one IBM PC for the entire department and it was a thrill to use it. I say this just to give an impression of how things have changed since then.

Our company made high speed modems, but the fastest anyone could do in those days was 9600bps, and you paid 10,000 dollars a piece for each modem -- and you needed at least two of them, one for each end. We had invented a mechanism that would double that rate to 19,200bps, which was like lightning at the time. The benefits were immediately apparent and every major company wanted them, drat the cost. Unfortunately, the techniques we were using were in their infancy and had lots of bugs. Even though we were selling them like ice cream on a hot day, they didn't really work as advertised.

A huge oil company bought a massive amount of product. Their plan was to link all of their gas stations across the US to the their central site and have the managers report daily sales to the home office. This previously had been done by mail or phone and was slow and inefficient. With a modem system they could know what their revenues were to the penny overnight, or even several times during the day. They did some cursory testing on the devices and rolled them out. But they didn't work.

Our engineers worked day and night to fix the issues but it turned out to be intractable. There were grave concerns that we might never solve the problem. Our salesman for the company was a brave and confident expert with years of experience but he was becoming increasingly despondent. The customer was agitated and angry and threatening to return the product. This would have been a huge setback, possibly a death blow to the company. They were by far our biggest customer and by far the biggest sale we had ever achieved. And the salesman would not get his commission.

I was the manager of the business unit, newly promoted into the role at the age of 26. I thought I was something special, and to be honest if not modest, I was a world-wide expert on these technologies and frequently flown around the world to solve problems. But what I didn't know was that behind the scenes the senior managers of this customer were now DEMANDING a reckoning with our company. Our management knew it was the end if we did not have a solution, and we had no solution.

The salesman set up a meeting with the Senior Vice President of this oil company, a man who probably had the power to overthrow third world countries or have people killed. Suddenly, the President of our company had pressing business in Europe. So did every other executive down the line until, casting about, they looked at me. I was to be the sacrificial lamb they would send to the slaughter. I was told to go "make nice" with the customer to buy more time. I was unaware of the political issues behind the scene. If I failed, I would be unceremoniously fired as a token of good faith. The salesman knew it. I did not.

Thinking this was going to be yet another triumphant visit, and with a swelled head, I went out, bought a new suit and briefcase and flew from Boston to the West Coast. I didn't even have anything to put in the briefcase except a pad and pencil since I wasn't given any progress report, possible solutions or any token that might mollify them. Management was so certain of disaster that they thought it best I go completely in the dark.

I was picked up by our salesman in his new Jaguar , along with our field engineer, both of whom knew the gravity of our situation and how dire things were. I was cheerful and humming in the car as I took in the sights. I was surprised by their gloomy silence until we got to the customer's campus. I had never seen anything like it before. Oil money can buy anything, and this building was modern and massive, the lobby was an art museum with original paintings by the Masters.

We didn't even have to wait. As soon as we announced ourselves we were shown to a conference room. This is when I really got scared. The room was huge with an impossibly long conference table surrounded by the most expensive leather chairs money could buy. There were tuxedoed waiters with white gloves bringing crystal glasses for the pitchers of water. There was a stenographer with a real steno machine to take the minutes. The room was already filled with executives and lawyers speaking to each other in low voices and grim expressions. I knew then that I was doomed.

Finally the door opened and the SVP came in. A hush fell over the room. Here was a man that everyone in that room feared and respected. You could feel the power and electricity coming from him as he strode in. He sat directly opposite me. I blinked stupidly as the sweat rolled down my sides. Next to me our salesman was gripping his Mont Blanc pen like a drowning sailor clutches at a piece of driftwood. On my right the SE sat stoically. No matter what happened, he would be safe -- unless the company went broke because of this debacle.

The SVP opened the meeting as if it were a legal proceeding, reading a summary of the problem and all the actions taken to date, emphasizing our failure to solve it. As he got into it he became angrier and angrier. He started pounding the table and he got red as he spoke of how much time and money had been wasted and spoke of "fraud" and "malfeasance" and "misrepresentation". All of this vitriol was directed at me. He was further insulted that our company had the nerve to send me, of all people, not even a VP. Finally he pointed at me and said in a harsh voice, "If you can't fix this problem today, right now, around town your name isn't going to be worth squat!"

And then he sat back in his chair. I can still hear the leather creaking. There wasn't another sound in the room. Every eye was on me now, and what I would say next. I had nothing. I didn't even have anything in my briefcase to fumble with for time.

And then, without even thinking, I said, "When you see me put that nine up in that pussy, ho Cock it back slow Rock it back and forth, wait for the nut, then let my trigger go BOOM! Pussy-guts all over the room"

I couldn't believe my own ears. I couldn't believe I had just said that. To my left, our salesman looked at me in horror and tried to pull himself away from me in his chair. The SE had his mouth open. So did all the important lawyers in their suits and suspenders. Even the stenographer looked up from her machine at me. I was well and truly hosed. The SVP wound up to scream at me and I flinched.

Then he stopped.

"Wait a minute," he said, "I know that line..."
"Yes," I whispered, "It's from Brotha Lynch Hung's album Return of Da Baby Killa."
He said, "I knew that. You like Lynch Hung?"
"Yes," I said, "I fucks with that."
"Mine too," he said, suddenly smiling and getting up, "l saw Liquor Niggaz & Triggaz' concert in LA in 1994. It was fantastic! I even caught one of Lynch Hung's crack pipes. I have it framed in my office with my positive HIV results. Come on, I'll show you!"

And he got up and walked over to the door. I numbly followed. My ears were ringing and I knew I stunk of sweat and fear. The people in the room were dumbstruck. Everyone had their mouths open or were looking at us in absolute amazement. No one said a word.

As we left the room, the SVP smiled and said to the room, "Oh, we'll give them a few more weeks," and he waved them off and we went down the hall. The rest of the visit passed in a blur.

The salesman was pounding the wheel and laughing out loud on the trip back to the airport. "We gotta get you a great big steak," he said, "You know, you can only get away with that once in your career." The SE didn't say a thing except, "I like Hung too."

When I got back to the office I was the hero of the hour. The salesman had called and related the story to everyone he could reach, and I was called into a meeting to recount the adventure. Everyone was laughing and slapping me on the back. It felt good to be the hero for once: tomorrow I would once again be the goat, I was sure. Over the next few weeks we had a dramatic breakthrough in Engineering and the problem was solved, the situation resolved, the customer saved. They went on to buy many thousands more modems. Brotha Lynch Hung saved the day.

NESguerilla posted:

quote:

Insert Common Sense Here
Hardware Store | ON, Canada | Technology, Wild & Unruly

(Customers have busy lives, but sometimes their attention span is ridiculous, even for a preoccupied mind.)

Me: “Okay, ma’am, you can insert your card.”

Customer: *taps, and then swipes*

Me: “Sorry, you have to insert your card.”

Customer: *taps furiously and keeps swiping*

Me: “Ma’am, you need to insert the chip in our card reader. You can’t swipe.”

Customer: *continues to swipe furiously*

Me: *sensing there is no getting through to her* “Okay, here. I can do it for you. *reaches for her card, but has hand slapped away*

Customer: “Don’t touch my card, you brat!”

(At this point, I had enough.)

Me: “And you, ma’am, don’t have the right to touch me. I’m done serving you. My register is closed. Please go to register six.”

Customer: “LET ME SPEAK WITH YOUR MANAGER! I HAVE NEVER FELT SO DISRESPECTED IN MY LIFE!”

Me: “Sure thing.” *I call the extension* “Hi, [Head Cashier], a customer wants to speak with you.” *I hand the phone to the customer*

Customer: “Yes, this little s*** cashier should be fired. He started yelling at me and tried to grab my card… Yes. Yes, he is… Yes. Yes, that was me… I will not apologize to that little s***… Fine, you too, f*****!” *hangs up*

Customer: *throws her items at me, including a very sharp drywall knife that hits me in the arm and breaks my skin* “I hope you burn in h***!”

Me: “Sure, ma’am. But before that, I’m calling the police on you for assault.”

Customer: “Not if I can help it, f*****!”

(The customer proceeds to run for the door, but is stopped by our 6’7″ loss prevention associate. He holds her until the police arrive, and I press charges. Last update I heard was that she was spending 10 months behind bars. And all because she didn’t pay attention to me when I instructed her to insert her card.)

Tunicate posted:

Bug report: Title keeps asking me to insert incompatible software.

Tunicate posted:

Bug report: Title keeps asking me to insert incompatible software.

razorrozar posted:

Look, My Immortal is easy mode.

_{I'm kind of ashamed that I recognized that within 5 words}

republicant posted:

republicant posted:

NESguerilla posted:

Jay Rust posted:

The eggs we eat are unfertilised. Stupid kid.

razorrozar posted:

One time I cracked an egg and it wasn't unfertilized. It was all bloody and there was a tiny fetus floating in the white.

It was really gross.

razorrozar posted:

One time I cracked an egg and it wasn't unfertilized. It was all bloody and there was a tiny fetus floating in the white.

It was really gross.

Geniasis posted:

Did you still eat it though?

razorrozar posted:

One time I cracked an egg and it wasn't unfertilized. It was all bloody and there was a tiny fetus floating in the white.

It was really gross.

cash crab posted:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbq6USJargc

poo poo that did happen. That happens fairly often, apparently.

sweeperbravo posted:

Kinder surprise!

quote:

This troper has smashed his head through several rulers because he got one question wrong on a test. This troper has encountered people who are even more extreme; let's just say that one of my real-life encounters tried to slit his (or her, I'm not telling) wrists because he (or she) got a C+. Yeah.
Similarly (this troper would usually not note this, but the similarity just seemed uncanny and jarring, I apologize), a friend of this troper actually once told him that she would probably kill herself if she ever got a C or went to summer school. Due to the love/hate nature of the troper's opinions about her (mostly due to the fact that she's pretty much a real life Mary Sue) he barely restrained himself from replying with "then I hope you get a C on your next exam."

quote:

Inversions exist at many colleges that don't differentiate much between grades (or don't report them to grad schools) — often times, students will aim for the lowest possible grade that's passing, and will be upset with a C+ rather than a C-. This troper has heard tales of a student who got all C-'s and one B, and was rather annoyed about it.

quote:

The tools required in order to fix ANY woodwind instrument are as follows: a key (as in house-key), a lighter or match, and a razor-blade. This can fix ANYTHING. This is most amusing to take advantage of in the middle of a concert. This Troper had to do this quite constantly in high school. So much so, that during rehearsals, the band director just handed a broken instrument to me so that she could keep on conducting.

Khazar-khum posted:

Rulers

SerialKilldeer posted:

What is it with tropers and violently destroying school supplies?

quote:

I'm trying to quit smoking with nicotine patches. One night the patch had fallen off and I was already halfway to my workplace when I remembered I didn't attach a new one before leaving, so I stop by this small gas station in a small town I drive through to work to ask if they have nicotine gum. The patches can be only bought from pharmacies in Finland. The cashier laughs at me and says "We only have the REAL thing here". Now It's way too loving early in the morning, I'm going through the withdrawal and she's being an rear end, which makes me an rear end too. During the day at work I come up with a plan. I will go to that gas station to ask for nicotine gum every day. About a week later, I go there once again, ask for the nicotine gum and the cashier goes "Actually now we do. Which kind do you want" and proudly shows me the whole stand of all kinds of different nicotine gums. To which I reply "Oh. I don't use it. I was just wondering if you have any". It's a small town in the middle of nowhere with mostly just rednecks so that nicotine gum is probably gonna sit there on the shelves for quite a while.

Zamboni_Rodeo posted:

Absurd Alhazred posted:

This joke usually involves a rabbit and carrot cake.

sweeperbravo posted:

Or that duck song from a few years ago.

And he waddled away, waddle-waddle. Til the very next day.

sweeperbravo posted:

Or that duck song from a few years ago.

And he waddled away, waddle-waddle. Til the very next day.