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my internet has all of a sudden starting pooping it's pants again!! What the heck? Just in case I'm late with a post or something.
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Apr 30, 2015 02:32
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| # ¿ May 14, 2024 03:16 |
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RIVETED!!! (NO SARCASM)
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Apr 30, 2015 02:37
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Whattttt??? OH LORD this is either awesomely hilarious or I'm the dumbest person ever.
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Apr 30, 2015 02:40
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Hahah D.Coil. I DID NOT see these Garth votes coming 
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Apr 30, 2015 02:47
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so mean!! *edit* so three seconds late 
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Apr 30, 2015 02:53
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Nice fake Idol. I respected your game-play. You were in a horrible unlucky position, and you gotta do what you gotta do man! 
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Apr 30, 2015 02:55
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you guys like my crab hat? I LOVE MY CRAB HAT!!
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Apr 30, 2015 02:58
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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.
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Apr 30, 2015 22:41
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Rurea posted:
That is actually a good point. If we could manage to win a frickin' challenge and not get stomped into the dirt like slugs, then we wouldn't be crying about being here so much 
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Apr 30, 2015 23:53
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garthoneeye 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.
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May 1, 2015 01:35
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garthoneeye 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 01:36
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garthoneeye 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.
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May 1, 2015 01:36
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garthoneeye 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.
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May 1, 2015 01:37
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garthoneeye 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.
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May 1, 2015 01:38
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garthoneeye 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 01:38
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garthoneeye 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). 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.
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May 1, 2015 01:40
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garthoneeye 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.
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May 1, 2015 01:41
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garthoneeye 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.
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May 1, 2015 01:41
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garthoneeye 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 01:42
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My nemesis was "SCROLLING". Stupid scrolling 
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May 1, 2015 01:52
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Ahhh if we had done a practice run I might have been faster. IDK though because my problem was finding the post that I had to quote. So if we weren't practicing against another team, that fact would not have been so apparent. At first it was because you guys were passing us up by a couple posts, and later because WALL OF TEXT, and my scrolling was kind of jumpy. If I had to do it again, I think I'd put my predecessor's name in Cntr-F and hit next next to jump right to the correct post. I'm sad I was the weak link, but at least I tried. Chic would have played too if we had decided to go with 4. I think you guys proved that a fast 4 is faster than a fast 3, by beating us by enough that it surpasses my individual slowness. All that said, I swear to god that felt like 30 seconds while I was doing it 
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May 1, 2015 16:27
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Adus posted:
Hahaha! I don't know. Might be better if you just left Paul Walker on the curb.
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May 1, 2015 18:49
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I remembered there were other people in College, and figured that was probably a problem. I just couldn't remember who, oops! I just made my neighbor fill up my car wiper fluid like I didn't know how (cuz I didn't want to get my shirt dirty). He's kind of a dick so it's ok =D oooohh is that some kind of glimpse into my psyche? I dunno, but he really is a dick, and that was a silk blouse. 
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May 1, 2015 23:32
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[quote="Fast Luck" post="444914015"] Swole tribe, welcome to Tribal Council. You've been here before. The person with the most votes here tonight will have their torch snuffed, and in this game, fire represents life. When your torch goes out, so do your chances of claiming victory and the $75 grand prize.  During tribal council, you will NOT be permitted any outside communication with each other. You may only speak within the confines of the thread. We’re here tonight to have a conversation that will help you decide who you want to vote out of this game. Similarly, if you are not involved in this Tribal Council, I ask you not to post in the thread during this time. Questions for all Last Tribal Council, the way things went down were pretty crazy with Met's fake idol. What was the fallout from that TC? [b] Most of us did not know for SURE if Met's idol was fake,(we had no way to know) so we went for the sure play. The fact he played it on D.Coil was hilarious. [/b} After losing your third straight challenge, it's starting to look like you're outmatched. Why does Sexy keep winning, and what can the Swole tribe do to stop Sexy's momentum? [B] let them know that we're doing the ABSOLUTE BEST that we possibly can, and even a lovely fish shoes win is not a REAL VICTORY [/b} With each subsequent vote, this tribe is getting smaller and there are fewer places to hide. Can you feel the walls closing in? What happens if this tribe dwindles down to 4, ozi I don't think there is anything genuine to say.... there are peope that livfe on earth and there are people thast ride on a comet that only comes around once every 80gazilion years. And I say "ATTACK THE BLOCK"
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May 5, 2015 01:41
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I apologize for the worst post ever. I have my lappy-toppy plugged in ATM which makes typing a real drag. I even fixed most of it. It STILL SUCKS. My apologies. PM, I'm not gonna make a big deal of it.... You can be kinda mean without provocation, and I want to play with people who will be nice to my face while they stab me in the back 
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May 5, 2015 01:47
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Poison Mushroom posted:I can understand that. I'm kinda the opposite, I'd rather not hide behind false faces when I know we're all clambering for the same goal. But that doesn't make me righter than you, just a different outlook. I'ts kinda the same thing we talked about. You can be TrANS AS gently caress, or ATHIEST AS gently caress like me, but I'm not giving up 1% of my universal truths to satisfy another. It was nice meeting you. *edit* BYEBYE* DoggPickle fucked around with this message at 01:57 on May 5, 2015 |
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May 5, 2015 01:55
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I'm having a very hard time with my laptop being on 1% or wherever because of poor planning and ridiculous exponential bad battery life. All I fixed was what i wanted to day in the first place. Posion Mushromm is a rude person, who says mean things about anyone possible. I am haning on by a 1% here. (my faulty)
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May 5, 2015 02:04
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I didn't like you because you were a rude, unnecessarily mean person. PERIOD. Type anything else you want, you're one again. For the same reason.
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May 5, 2015 02:07
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Don't bite the apple =D
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May 5, 2015 02:11
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Me too actually/. Thank you P.MuSh. I thought you were kind of a mean person in general, but i appreciate it =D [ i might not KNOW things from your gene. but I'll always respect you as long as you're-not an rear end in a top hat. typing ont sind 8 atill in effecg
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May 5, 2015 02:16
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Poison mushroom was straight up using the F word at d/Coil last week. That's why I feel NO POSSIBLE sadness at voting you off right now. When you rare nice, you are very fun. When you are mad, ....
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May 5, 2015 02:22
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I would sincerely like to apologize for my behavior last night. I wasn't just fighting typing on a bad keyboard while it was plugged in (and windows 8). I was fighting a laptop that kept shutting down because it was THAT MUCH out of power. I thought at the time that I was killing it faster than it could recharge just by the action of making it boot up and navigating to this thread and making a post before it powered off again. I said some things that I would not have posted so blatantly, but I was typing as fast as I could so that it wouldn't shut down again. I was only about 50% successful. I tried to log in via my other laptop but I got the password for S.A. wrong (I changed it recently) and the message you get for a wrong password is pretty nasty. I tried on my cell-phone, but either my ham-hands or my memory failed me and I got the same nasty message. The frustration factor was going through the roof. I was logged in to S.A. on my Ipad, but I could not find this thread for the life of me, and then it literally died too. THEN I remembered that I still had the link in my PM's. Very useful at that time!!! At that point, I just plugged everything in and continued re-watching Fringe, which I have been binging since I finished China and Cook Islands. I figured I'd let my laptop charge for 45 minutes and then see what was going on. If you've ever re-watched Fringe, I happened to be on "Jacksonville" and the next episode was "Peter", so you'll know what I mean when I say that I absolutely HAD to watch both. Anyways, then I fell asleep because it was 11:00+ by then. I woke up this morning and my laptop still hadn't charged. I very nearly punched it in the face. It's pretty new, so  Then about an hour later, I noticed my Ipad had not charged at all either. This was actually GREAT NEWS!! I have a light switch that "doesn't do poo poo", but in fact it cuts the power to only the TOP plug for 3 power outlets in my basement. (1960's house IDK??). I used to have it taped up, but last year my basement flooded so badly that I had to have an entire wall replaced, and this was the wall with the lightswitch to nowhere on it. And I didn't replace the tape. One of my best friends moved in down the street a couple weeks ago. I helped them un-pack. He actually used to live here as my roommate, so when I had them over, he was wandering around like he lived here, cuz he kinda did! He must have hit the switch to nowhere for some reason. Because it was flipped off. So, in closing I did not even get to see the votes last night. My first view of them was today at 12:30. I'm not OCD or anything, but try losing your internet (basically) and not seeing the votes at all by a couple minutes, and trying to get a good night's sleep. Plus, I was typing fast and stupid, expecting that I could fix it later, and I could not. I swear to god, I had no idea how the votes came out until now, and I was honestly worried that I'd made such a butt-face of myself that I might be on those papers. I'm really really glad that my friends didn't decide to ditch me at the last minute.You can't make this poo poo up. The light-switch to nowhere is now re-taped in an on position. I can't really convey the utter frustration that was happening to me last night I still don't know my SA password though
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May 5, 2015 17:51
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=reaIcN61M-M
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May 6, 2015 00:19
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That's the beginning of peter FYI and why I could not just watch one episode.
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May 6, 2015 20:45
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I am oldish and that is kind of late for me, but still no problem. I just have to make sure I get my nap  Team "Remind Doggpickle to take a nap": Unite!
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May 10, 2015 00:46
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Well at least I'm not the ONLY person who couldn't do it. I was still playing it right now, actually, but I'm only on my 7/8th try if that makes any difference. I got up to two Rureas! I just couldn't get them to make out =P
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May 10, 2015 23:11
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Adus posted:
Hahaha I haven't met you yet, but this really made me laugh. Some of us were joking about watching a lot of Let's Play's a couple weeks ago. That's not particularly relevant. I just love SS LP's
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May 11, 2015 22:47
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Why does brown-hair/green-shirt guy look like such a (I dunno some awful word with stupid included?) at all times? Please tell me that is not the protagonist. I zoned out for a bit.
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May 12, 2015 02:37
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MMM Whatchya Say posted:He is the protagonist (here's a video of that dialogue if you want to hear his voice) Just jump off a ledge, eat a poison mushroom, walk into a goomba, try to shoot zombies in the feet, whatever it takes to die, because this dude should not win any games.
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May 12, 2015 03:05
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| # ¿ May 14, 2024 03:16 |
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I'm here
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May 12, 2015 03:36
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