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Woohoo I'm sexy!
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Apr 14, 2015 01:33
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Omg I'm fangirling
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Apr 14, 2015 01:36
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DaisyDanger posted:PS - Everyone should post confessionals because they're the best thing ever for us viewers. I don't watch real survivor... What should we write about?
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Apr 14, 2015 02:21
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Jato posted:Except post the cookie recipes itt instead so the rest of us can bake some cookies on this god forsaken island. I will actually do this because I have an amazing cookie recipe.
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Apr 14, 2015 02:24
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MMM Whatchya Say posted:petition to push it back until 10pm this is better for me as well
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Apr 15, 2015 06:04
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Rurea posted:Sexy tribe? More like Smelly Tribe, am I right guys? Swole tribe? More like MOLE tribe.
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Apr 15, 2015 17:29
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Hi Jeff, happy to be here. On the island of course, not at tribal. I think regardless of our loss at the first challenge, we are in a good place. My tribe seems pretty friendly and I'm going with the DaisyDanger strategy of chatting in the doc and making friends. I'm looking forward to future challenges with my tribe.
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Apr 15, 2015 22:42
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Fast Luck posted:DaisyDanger won last season of Survivor. Are you worried describing yourself as playing Daisy's game will cause others to perceive you as a threat? Winning would be great, but I'm more interested in making friends and having fun. I think I'll be an asset to my team but not necessarily a threat. In the end, she won because she deserved it. I only hope I can be as good a player as she was.
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Apr 15, 2015 22:46
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I have someone in mind. A bunch of people didn't show up for the challenge. It's one of those people. And I doubt they can convince me to change my mind.
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Apr 15, 2015 22:55
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I'm not going to hide it. I want to vote captain monkey. He wasn't around for the challenge and hasn't shown up in the doc at all. He has only one post in this thread and its 3 letters long. No effort there. I hope my team understands and will get on board with this.
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Apr 15, 2015 23:17
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fast luck we have it please come check our doc asap
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Apr 17, 2015 03:27
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Fine with me, I can phone post. fastluck I just added you on skype please accept 
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Apr 17, 2015 04:15
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I'll admit I am a little discouraged but mostly do to disappointment in myself and my own situation and not my team. I was very frustrated with this challenge due to computer issues and I felt that I didn't do as well as I could have. We also did lack communication that should have been there. I think we would be a lot more successful working as a team. I'm not hopeless and I think we can definitely come back from this and win the next few challenges.
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Apr 21, 2015 01:38
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I gotta go. I'm phone posting from rehearsal. See y'all at the next challenge.
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Apr 21, 2015 01:48
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I guess I am now the only sexy lady in this game 
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Apr 22, 2015 02:01
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imgay posted:Anarc found a site with a bunch of pictures of real life megahost Jeff Probst's floppy dongle. Don't tell everyone about my secret porn stash
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Apr 26, 2015 02:32
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Strong Mouse posted:1. Strong Mouse He did this backwards by the way since you asked for weakest to strongest. Strongest is number 1 obviously. I mean just look at those mouse muscles
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Apr 26, 2015 04:06
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ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ
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Apr 29, 2015 02:38
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I couldn't participate in this challenge but I specced my team and holy poo poo they were prepared. Sorry swole. We have the sexy AND the brains
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Apr 29, 2015 02:39
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Please not a Monday! Mondays and Tuesdays are the only days I can't do challenges
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Apr 29, 2015 02:59
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ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ
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May 1, 2015 01:24
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Jato 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. 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.
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May 1, 2015 01:34
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Jato 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. 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’.
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May 1, 2015 01:35
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Jato 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. 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.
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May 1, 2015 01:36
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Jato 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. 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.
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May 1, 2015 01:36
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Jato 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. 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).
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May 1, 2015 01:37
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Jato 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. 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). I look over at my pensioner benchmate, but he is busy looking at the woman who just came down the elevator. She is probably several centimeters taller than he is, due to dietary differences between the older and younger generations. He looks at her, and then looks at me, and then says nothing. I have often wondered if people get quieter as they age because they have been disappointed by the human race so many times. And for most of us, not too many people show up at our death bed. All those years, all of that emotion, all of those hopes and dreams, all the reaching out; and no one shows up. It makes reaching out to others look like a fairly poor investment. You are unlikely to get much back. Maybe that is why it is so rare to find people who can be selflessly kind to strangers without any sort of hidden motivation. It represents risk-taking without any obvious payback. After staring at me for a moment, the pensioner slaps me on the knee and says “예쁘다!” (beautiful).
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May 1, 2015 01:38
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Jato 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. 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). I look over at my pensioner benchmate, but he is busy looking at the woman who just came down the elevator. She is probably several centimeters taller than he is, due to dietary differences between the older and younger generations. He looks at her, and then looks at me, and then says nothing. I have often wondered if people get quieter as they age because they have been disappointed by the human race so many times. And for most of us, not too many people show up at our death bed. All those years, all of that emotion, all of those hopes and dreams, all the reaching out; and no one shows up. It makes reaching out to others look like a fairly poor investment. You are unlikely to get much back. Maybe that is why it is so rare to find people who can be selflessly kind to strangers without any sort of hidden motivation. It represents risk-taking without any obvious payback. After staring at me for a moment, the pensioner slaps me on the knee and says “예쁘다!” (beautiful). He may not be a player anymore, but he knows quality when he sees it. He’s no longer a player, but he’ll always be an enthusiast. Our bodies, and energy and stamina wane with time, but enthusiasm is something we can all maintain until the end. Perhaps he’s got a cranky old wife at home, 할머니 tits hanging past her belt, who gets on his case about money, and soju, and cleaning the house, and smoking, and “Why do I always have to wash the goddamned dishes?” He and I are not players, but we are actors on the same stage, at the same point in time. Many, many years ago, before I set foot in Korea, I had a beautiful girlfriend just like the one who came down the escalator. She never really had much to say, but she was gorgeous. I assumed that she was quiet and reserved because she was ‘deep’. Perhaps there was character there, somewhere. Maybe she was the ‘one’. After time, I realized that she was not ‘deep’ – she was just a stupid, vapid, aimless drifter with hardly any brain activity at all.
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May 1, 2015 01:38
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Jato 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. 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). I look over at my pensioner benchmate, but he is busy looking at the woman who just came down the elevator. She is probably several centimeters taller than he is, due to dietary differences between the older and younger generations. He looks at her, and then looks at me, and then says nothing. I have often wondered if people get quieter as they age because they have been disappointed by the human race so many times. And for most of us, not too many people show up at our death bed. All those years, all of that emotion, all of those hopes and dreams, all the reaching out; and no one shows up. It makes reaching out to others look like a fairly poor investment. You are unlikely to get much back. Maybe that is why it is so rare to find people who can be selflessly kind to strangers without any sort of hidden motivation. It represents risk-taking without any obvious payback. After staring at me for a moment, the pensioner slaps me on the knee and says “예쁘다!” (beautiful). He may not be a player anymore, but he knows quality when he sees it. He’s no longer a player, but he’ll always be an enthusiast. Our bodies, and energy and stamina wane with time, but enthusiasm is something we can all maintain until the end. Perhaps he’s got a cranky old wife at home, 할머니 tits hanging past her belt, who gets on his case about money, and soju, and cleaning the house, and smoking, and “Why do I always have to wash the goddamned dishes?” He and I are not players, but we are actors on the same stage, at the same point in time. Many, many years ago, before I set foot in Korea, I had a beautiful girlfriend just like the one who came down the escalator. She never really had much to say, but she was gorgeous. I assumed that she was quiet and reserved because she was ‘deep’. Perhaps there was character there, somewhere. Maybe she was the ‘one’. After time, I realized that she was not ‘deep’ – she was just a stupid, vapid, aimless drifter with hardly any brain activity at all. But I liked her. I’ll never know why. The pensioner sitting next to me probably has several decades of knowledge to impart on a younger person such as myself. From time to time, in situations like this, I wished I'd spoke Korean well. We are two men sitting on a department store bench, sharing the sight of a beautiful woman. We are like two old fishermen staring at the night lights of a luxury oceanliner as it passes us by. The pensioner has stories to tell, and I have stories to tell, but neither of us can communicate with the other. What a shame.
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May 1, 2015 01:39
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ᕦ ( o_O ) ᕤ
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May 1, 2015 01:45
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Just showed my mom the naked pictures of Jeff Probst. Her reactions, in order. "That's not real. Is he uncircumsized? I'm mesmerized, I can't look away. I need to show everyone at work!"
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May 1, 2015 02:36
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Fast Luck posted:Okay, no Immunity Challenges this week. Oh God no Mondays please!
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May 5, 2015 03:01
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Survivor edit: or Tuesdays
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May 5, 2015 03:02
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Is there any way we could do it earlier or later than that? Or not Monday? I can do like 5pm or 1030pm est
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May 7, 2015 03:50
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Hi I am here! anyone from swole wanna add me on skype I am saanonymousnarcotics
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May 12, 2015 03:32
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Jato posted:Except post the cookie recipes itt instead so the rest of us can bake some cookies on this god forsaken island. AnonymousNarcotics posted:I will actually do this because I have an amazing cookie recipe. As promised, my cookie recipe! Ingredients: 2 ½ cups almond meal ¼ tsp sea salt ¼ tsp baking soda 5 Tbsp butter 5 Tbsp apple butter 1 Tbsp vanilla ⅓ cup honey chocolate chips Directions: Preheat oven to 350 F Mix all of the dry ingredients together Melt the butter in a heat proof bowl and add the honey, vanilla, and apple butter Add the dry ingredients to the wet and mix well Stir in the chocolate chips and spoon cookie-size balls onto a parchment lined baking sheet Bake for 15 minutes. Cookies should still be fairly soft when you take them out, they will harden somewhat as they cool. They should look like this when finished.  Enjoy!
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May 12, 2015 08:33
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DoggPickle posted:Can you sub Flour for almond meal?? My mom made awesome cookies, but I lost the recipe. That is SO sad. Seriously!! I've never tried to make it with regular flour but I'm assuming it wouldn't be exactly the same. The apple butter (or whatever type you use: apricot is one of my other faves) is the important bit
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May 12, 2015 22:00
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I found that recipe online and it called for 10 Tbsps of butter and I was like holy crap that's a lot of butter, and I googled what I can substitute for some of the butter. Hence... Apple butter!
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May 13, 2015 00:09
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Strong Mouse posted:I'm here for tribal. I'll probably be a little sporadic since I'm on my phone. Samesies
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May 13, 2015 01:30
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| # ¿ Apr 29, 2024 00:24 |
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Sorry we ruined your game fast luck but it was a lot of fun getting to interact with people I haven't gotten a chance to know yet, like chic dogg rurea and garth. It was like a big party!
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May 13, 2015 01:50
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