AnAnonymousIdiot posted:

No, I mean actually look young. With 4/20 here police suspect a lot of stoned drivers or guys carrying marijuana for one party or another.

Fast Luck posted:

Questions for everybody

Is this a unified tribe, or are lines drawn along pre-shuffle lines despite the early merge?

What could you have done differently to win the immunity challenge?

This is a game with Hidden Immunity Idols. Have you given any thought to who, if anyone, might have an idol in their pocket?

Fast Luck posted:

I'll ask this question in the diplomatic way: Who was present and helpful during the Sexy Runway Show?

Fast Luck posted:

Optional question for the original Swole players: Any response to this? None of you reached out to Met after the shuffle?

MMM Whatchya Say posted:

Just be glad my initial fish placement was rejected:

Fast Luck posted:

Questions for D. Coil, DoggPickle, garthoneeye, Rurea

Last Tribal, we saw a split in votes between D. Coil and HiipFire. The original Sexy player, HiipFire, went home, and the original Swole player stayed. Do you think there's an original Swole welcome wagon waiting for you in the current Sexy tribe? How confident are you in that? Is that motivating your votes?

Question for all
D. Coil's lack of challenge participation was an issue last Tribal. Is he your biggest challenge liability?

Fast Luck posted:

Chic, D. Coil, DoggPickle, Garth, Rurea:
How secure to do you feel going into this vote? Are you a united five?

Poison Mushroom posted:

Alright, fine, guess we're doing this again.

I didn't want to go along with your plan because, even if if it did work, all it would have done is mark us as Priority One Targets for the rest of the tribe, and after the merge. I didn't come back to this game just to make Nexal's mistake. If you take me not wanting to go with a self-destructive and pointlessly underhanded plan as not being on your side, then I don't know what to tell you. I still want to win, I just didn't think your plan was the way to do it.

I thought we were clear on that, but I guess not.

Met posted:

DoggPickle posted:

I guess I'm THAT guy too. I don't have a work schedule so I can make it pretty much anytime. The thing that has gotten me down this week though, is having to be here 4 nights straight in a row. I realize that if we'd won the challenge, that would not have happened, but I think it's putting some wear-and-tear on people. It's not like I have some AMAZING social life, but I have not been able to go out all week. Of course I could turn down a challenge, but I literally have the least good excuse for it, of anywhere here

I personally think you've been good about asking people to ask about changing the times, but it's the 4 days in a row that is getting people a little bonkers. It's already technically a game that never stops, but this week has been draining even to me, and I have nothing else I HAVE to do.

DoggPickle posted:

I’m sitting on the bench across from the escalators in the Shinsegae department store on a weekday afternoon. I’m wearing a dark navy, tailored two button suit with notched lapels. I’m wearing a dark blue tie with subtle, diagonal white stripes against a fine grid checked navy blue and white shirt.

The suit is actually just a prop; I don’t have to work today, and I have nowhere in particular that I need to be, other than outside of my house. I’ve got a large paper Starbucks cup filled to the top with a mixture of approximately 70% rum and 30% Coke.

I have a nagging suspicion that the aged Korean pensioner sitting next to me has caught on to my act. I think he can smell the rum, so I turn away each time I take a swig and make every effort not to breath in his direction. It wasn’t always this way. It used to be more Coke than rum, but I suppose that is a different story.

DoggPickle posted:

I’m sitting on the bench across from the escalators in the Shinsegae department store on a weekday afternoon. I’m wearing a dark navy, tailored two button suit with notched lapels. I’m wearing a dark blue tie with subtle, diagonal white stripes against a fine grid checked navy blue and white shirt.

The suit is actually just a prop; I don’t have to work today, and I have nowhere in particular that I need to be, other than outside of my house. I’ve got a large paper Starbucks cup filled to the top with a mixture of approximately 70% rum and 30% Coke.

I have a nagging suspicion that the aged Korean pensioner sitting next to me has caught on to my act. I think he can smell the rum, so I turn away each time I take a swig and make every effort not to breath in his direction. It wasn’t always this way. It used to be more Coke than rum, but I suppose that is a different story.

Perhaps the pensioner is staring at me because my hair is a mess. This day was particularly windy here in Seoul.

That’s one of the things I miss actually; the sound of wind. There are lots of old oak trees in my home town, and during the autumn months you could hear the wind ripping through the oak trees –it sounded almost like running water passing over round stones in a shallow river bed. You could smell oak and cedar in the air, and touches of salt water. The smell of freshly cut grass, summer barbeques, and chimney smoke (remember those?).

In downtown Seoul, the wind rips through the concrete office buildings, and the smell in the late evening? Well, I wouldn’t exactly describe it as ‘oak’ or ‘cedar’.

DoggPickle posted:

I’m sitting on the bench across from the escalators in the Shinsegae department store on a weekday afternoon. I’m wearing a dark navy, tailored two button suit with notched lapels. I’m wearing a dark blue tie with subtle, diagonal white stripes against a fine grid checked navy blue and white shirt.

The suit is actually just a prop; I don’t have to work today, and I have nowhere in particular that I need to be, other than outside of my house. I’ve got a large paper Starbucks cup filled to the top with a mixture of approximately 70% rum and 30% Coke.

I have a nagging suspicion that the aged Korean pensioner sitting next to me has caught on to my act. I think he can smell the rum, so I turn away each time I take a swig and make every effort not to breath in his direction. It wasn’t always this way. It used to be more Coke than rum, but I suppose that is a different story.

Perhaps the pensioner is staring at me because my hair is a mess. This day was particularly windy here in Seoul.

That’s one of the things I miss actually; the sound of wind. There are lots of old oak trees in my home town, and during the autumn months you could hear the wind ripping through the oak trees –it sounded almost like running water passing over round stones in a shallow river bed. You could smell oak and cedar in the air, and touches of salt water. The smell of freshly cut grass, summer barbeques, and chimney smoke (remember those?).

In downtown Seoul, the wind rips through the concrete office buildings, and the smell in the late evening? Well, I wouldn’t exactly describe it as ‘oak’ or ‘cedar’.

I check my reflection in the glass screen of my cell phone, the battery having long since died. I’d get up and check my appearance in the restroom mirror, but there are groups of roving pensioners circling the plush benches like vultures. The instant I got up, a pensioner would snatch my spot on the bench.

For many of Seoul’s elderly, the plush benches in an air-conditioned department store represent a pleasant change from what they would otherwise be doing on any given weekday afternoon. So no, I won’t be giving up my seat on the plush bench. At least not until I’ve finished my rum and Coke.

This particular bench is in high demand due almost entirely to its positioning on the ground floor of the department store. It is from this bench that one has a clear, unobstructed view of women coming down the escalator.

DoggPickle posted:

I’m sitting on the bench across from the escalators in the Shinsegae department store on a weekday afternoon. I’m wearing a dark navy, tailored two button suit with notched lapels. I’m wearing a dark blue tie with subtle, diagonal white stripes against a fine grid checked navy blue and white shirt.

The suit is actually just a prop; I don’t have to work today, and I have nowhere in particular that I need to be, other than outside of my house. I’ve got a large paper Starbucks cup filled to the top with a mixture of approximately 70% rum and 30% Coke.

I have a nagging suspicion that the aged Korean pensioner sitting next to me has caught on to my act. I think he can smell the rum, so I turn away each time I take a swig and make every effort not to breath in his direction. It wasn’t always this way. It used to be more Coke than rum, but I suppose that is a different story.

Perhaps the pensioner is staring at me because my hair is a mess. This day was particularly windy here in Seoul.

That’s one of the things I miss actually; the sound of wind. There are lots of old oak trees in my home town, and during the autumn months you could hear the wind ripping through the oak trees –it sounded almost like running water passing over round stones in a shallow river bed. You could smell oak and cedar in the air, and touches of salt water. The smell of freshly cut grass, summer barbeques, and chimney smoke (remember those?).

In downtown Seoul, the wind rips through the concrete office buildings, and the smell in the late evening? Well, I wouldn’t exactly describe it as ‘oak’ or ‘cedar’.

I check my reflection in the glass screen of my cell phone, the battery having long since died. I’d get up and check my appearance in the restroom mirror, but there are groups of roving pensioners circling the plush benches like vultures. The instant I got up, a pensioner would snatch my spot on the bench.

For many of Seoul’s elderly, the plush benches in an air-conditioned department store represent a pleasant change from what they would otherwise be doing on any given weekday afternoon. So no, I won’t be giving up my seat on the plush bench. At least not until I’ve finished my rum and Coke.

This particular bench is in high demand due almost entirely to its positioning on the ground floor of the department store. It is from this bench that one has a clear, unobstructed view of women coming down the escalator.

Imagine a conveyor belt that deposits women right at your feet every few seconds. I used to walk around whenever I wanted to people-watch, but now I’ve got it all figured out. No need to move at all, the escalator does all the moving –technology.

The pensioner sitting next to me continues to glance over in my direction, without making any attempt to disguise his glances.

Wait a minute; perhaps he is staring at me because he’s seen me here before. Perhaps we shared this bench last week as well. Perhaps we are former bench mates. I’ve become somewhat of a regular here, you see.

DoggPickle posted:

I’m sitting on the bench across from the escalators in the Shinsegae department store on a weekday afternoon. I’m wearing a dark navy, tailored two button suit with notched lapels. I’m wearing a dark blue tie with subtle, diagonal white stripes against a fine grid checked navy blue and white shirt.

The suit is actually just a prop; I don’t have to work today, and I have nowhere in particular that I need to be, other than outside of my house. I’ve got a large paper Starbucks cup filled to the top with a mixture of approximately 70% rum and 30% Coke.

I have a nagging suspicion that the aged Korean pensioner sitting next to me has caught on to my act. I think he can smell the rum, so I turn away each time I take a swig and make every effort not to breath in his direction. It wasn’t always this way. It used to be more Coke than rum, but I suppose that is a different story.

Perhaps the pensioner is staring at me because my hair is a mess. This day was particularly windy here in Seoul.

That’s one of the things I miss actually; the sound of wind. There are lots of old oak trees in my home town, and during the autumn months you could hear the wind ripping through the oak trees –it sounded almost like running water passing over round stones in a shallow river bed. You could smell oak and cedar in the air, and touches of salt water. The smell of freshly cut grass, summer barbeques, and chimney smoke (remember those?).

In downtown Seoul, the wind rips through the concrete office buildings, and the smell in the late evening? Well, I wouldn’t exactly describe it as ‘oak’ or ‘cedar’.

I check my reflection in the glass screen of my cell phone, the battery having long since died. I’d get up and check my appearance in the restroom mirror, but there are groups of roving pensioners circling the plush benches like vultures. The instant I got up, a pensioner would snatch my spot on the bench.

For many of Seoul’s elderly, the plush benches in an air-conditioned department store represent a pleasant change from what they would otherwise be doing on any given weekday afternoon. So no, I won’t be giving up my seat on the plush bench. At least not until I’ve finished my rum and Coke.

This particular bench is in high demand due almost entirely to its positioning on the ground floor of the department store. It is from this bench that one has a clear, unobstructed view of women coming down the escalator.

Imagine a conveyor belt that deposits women right at your feet every few seconds. I used to walk around whenever I wanted to people-watch, but now I’ve got it all figured out. No need to move at all, the escalator does all the moving –technology.

The pensioner sitting next to me continues to glance over in my direction, without making any attempt to disguise his glances.

Wait a minute; perhaps he is staring at me because he’s seen me here before. Perhaps we shared this bench last week as well. Perhaps we are former bench mates. I’ve become somewhat of a regular here, you see.

I’ve always struggled to remember things that are not important, like the faces of the people I share department store benches with.

Perhaps when I’m older, and nothing else matters, and life is winding down towards its eventual end-point, I’ll have a sharper memory for the inconsequential things that I currently ignore. Perhaps I’ll remember the faces of strangers.

As the time passes, my pensioner benchmate and I watch as streams of women are delivered at our feet by the magical mechanical moving stairs.

DoggPickle posted:

I’m sitting on the bench across from the escalators in the Shinsegae department store on a weekday afternoon. I’m wearing a dark navy, tailored two button suit with notched lapels. I’m wearing a dark blue tie with subtle, diagonal white stripes against a fine grid checked navy blue and white shirt.

The suit is actually just a prop; I don’t have to work today, and I have nowhere in particular that I need to be, other than outside of my house. I’ve got a large paper Starbucks cup filled to the top with a mixture of approximately 70% rum and 30% Coke.

I have a nagging suspicion that the aged Korean pensioner sitting next to me has caught on to my act. I think he can smell the rum, so I turn away each time I take a swig and make every effort not to breath in his direction. It wasn’t always this way. It used to be more Coke than rum, but I suppose that is a different story.

Perhaps the pensioner is staring at me because my hair is a mess. This day was particularly windy here in Seoul.

That’s one of the things I miss actually; the sound of wind. There are lots of old oak trees in my home town, and during the autumn months you could hear the wind ripping through the oak trees –it sounded almost like running water passing over round stones in a shallow river bed. You could smell oak and cedar in the air, and touches of salt water. The smell of freshly cut grass, summer barbeques, and chimney smoke (remember those?).

In downtown Seoul, the wind rips through the concrete office buildings, and the smell in the late evening? Well, I wouldn’t exactly describe it as ‘oak’ or ‘cedar’.

I check my reflection in the glass screen of my cell phone, the battery having long since died. I’d get up and check my appearance in the restroom mirror, but there are groups of roving pensioners circling the plush benches like vultures. The instant I got up, a pensioner would snatch my spot on the bench.

For many of Seoul’s elderly, the plush benches in an air-conditioned department store represent a pleasant change from what they would otherwise be doing on any given weekday afternoon. So no, I won’t be giving up my seat on the plush bench. At least not until I’ve finished my rum and Coke.

This particular bench is in high demand due almost entirely to its positioning on the ground floor of the department store. It is from this bench that one has a clear, unobstructed view of women coming down the escalator.

Imagine a conveyor belt that deposits women right at your feet every few seconds. I used to walk around whenever I wanted to people-watch, but now I’ve got it all figured out. No need to move at all, the escalator does all the moving –technology.

The pensioner sitting next to me continues to glance over in my direction, without making any attempt to disguise his glances.

Wait a minute; perhaps he is staring at me because he’s seen me here before. Perhaps we shared this bench last week as well. Perhaps we are former bench mates. I’ve become somewhat of a regular here, you see.

I’ve always struggled to remember things that are not important, like the faces of the people I share department store benches with.

Perhaps when I’m older, and nothing else matters, and life is winding down towards its eventual end-point, I’ll have a sharper memory for the inconsequential things that I currently ignore. Perhaps I’ll remember the faces of strangers.

As the time passes, my pensioner benchmate and I watch as streams of women are delivered at our feet by the magical mechanical moving stairs.

As a result of Korea’s plastic surgery epidemic, watching women come down the escalator gets a bit monotonous, as it feels like I’m seeing the same women come down time after time, only in different outfits.

Wait, there’s one! She looks natural! I look up from my coffee cup. Paper-white skin, tall, cheek bones higher than her eyes, arms like long wet noodles. Sweet Mary mother of Joseph, she’s like an angel descending down the second floor escalator.

And here I was, about to get up and leave. My interest has suddenly been renewed. I’m thinking I should call someone and share this brilliant experience, but my phone battery is dead, and all of my friends are at work anyway (sucks being an adult).