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| LTE; Longest Thread Ever | |
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| Topic Started: Aug 24 2005, 10:16 AM (4,935 Views) | |
| magnus | Sep 5 2005, 09:27 AM Post #51 |
 
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Hey griff shut the *BLAM* up and get down here and help us check out the base. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! i don't think he is even listening to us NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO actually that time i was answering your question. |
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| magnus | Sep 5 2005, 09:27 AM Post #52 |
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boo yah page two..... |
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| Delta 0M0R5 | Sep 5 2005, 11:10 AM Post #53 |
The ownage
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() |\/| GG! |? @ GGE 2!!!!! 1337 1Z @ \/\/ Z()|\/|E!! TRanslation: OMG! Page 2!!!!! leet is awesome |
 "The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax-- Of cabbages--and kings-- The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars But in ourselves that we are underlings. | |
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| Shmithers | Sep 5 2005, 12:22 PM Post #54 |
Guru
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600D W054k 6U135 |
 Nathan Spratt Photography | |
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| Biohazard_42 | Sep 5 2005, 01:11 PM Post #55 |
For Scotland
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Five Letters |
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| FinalTheorem | Sep 5 2005, 03:37 PM Post #56 |
Busy Doing Nothing
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Still on one page for me. I have it set to show 90 posts per topic page :lol: |
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| Shmithers | Sep 8 2005, 08:45 PM Post #57 |
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Guru
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noo.... so much homework... blah! |
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Nathan Spratt Photography | |
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| magnus | Sep 9 2005, 09:54 AM Post #58 |
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homework is for the devil |
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| J4kk | Sep 9 2005, 02:21 PM Post #59 |
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ooOOoo n00bzzzzzzzzzzzzsleepzzzzzzzzz |
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| FlowerBoy24 | Sep 9 2005, 03:12 PM Post #60 |
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Might be going paintballing next week. Woot, woot. |
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MY SOUNDDOMAIN WEBSITE | |
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| Master Chief 2594 | Sep 9 2005, 03:44 PM Post #61 |
Guru
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everybody follow me BOW-CHIKA-BOW-WOW no everybody follow tucker well i tried |
  I'm back baby! | |
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| Master Chief 2594 | Sep 9 2005, 03:47 PM Post #62 |
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Guru
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NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO... Simmons! Go get him down ...OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO... Sarge if he keeps yelling like that he's gonna pass out and fall off the cliff ...OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO... Simmons! Cancel that order ...OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO... Donut! Get me a sniper rifle |
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I'm back baby! | |
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| Master Chief 2594 | Sep 9 2005, 03:48 PM Post #63 |
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Guru
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BOW-CHIKA-CHICKA-BOW-WOW-CHICKA-CHIKA-BOW-WOW!!!!!!!!!!! |
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I'm back baby! | |
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| Shmithers | Sep 10 2005, 04:06 PM Post #64 |
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Guru
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i hate school, blah, common guies, keep this thread growing lol |
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Nathan Spratt Photography | |
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| Master Chief 2594 | Sep 10 2005, 04:38 PM Post #65 |
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Guru
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okay dude |
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I'm back baby! | |
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| Master Chief 2594 | Sep 10 2005, 04:38 PM Post #66 |
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Guru
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so who has heard star wars gangsta rap before? |
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I'm back baby! | |
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| Shmithers | Sep 10 2005, 04:47 PM Post #67 |
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not me, no |
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Nathan Spratt Photography | |
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| Master Chief 2594 | Sep 10 2005, 04:50 PM Post #68 |
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Guru
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its hilarious |
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I'm back baby! | |
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| Biohazard_42 | Sep 10 2005, 08:13 PM Post #69 |
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For Scotland
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fiveo - |
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| MeechVII | Sep 10 2005, 10:19 PM Post #70 |
Colonel Fancy Pants
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I'm gonna pretend that I never saw star wars and rap in the same sentence so i can continue living a happy life. |
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| MeechVII | Sep 10 2005, 10:20 PM Post #71 |
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Colonel Fancy Pants
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What happens when a mod double posts? ..........the world implodes. |
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| MeechVII | Sep 13 2005, 09:20 PM Post #72 |
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Colonel Fancy Pants
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spam is delicious |
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| FusedDanksta | Sep 18 2005, 11:22 PM Post #73 |
Bane of Stupidity
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Cruisin Mos Espa in my Delorian war's over I'm a peacetime Mandalorian My story has stumped star wars historians deep in debate buffet plate at bennigans rhyme renegade sure to penetrate first and second defense I won't hesitate got a job to do darth's the guy that delegates got something against skywalker someone he really hates I don't give a *BLAM* I'm after Solo For all I care he could be hiding at Yoda's Dojo Gotta make the money credit's no good When the Jawas run the shop in your neighborhood Think you can cook I got a grappling hook Let's make this quick cuz I'm really booked I'm a devious degenerate, defender of the devil Shut down all the trash compactor's on the detention level My backpack's got jets I'm Boba the Fett I bounty hunt for Jabba Hutt To finance my vette I chill in deep space A mask is over my face I deliver the prize but I still narrow my eyes Cuz my time I don't like to waste. Get down I'm a question wrapped inside an enigma Get inside the slave one find your homing signal From endor to hoth, ripley to spock I'll find what you want, but there's gonna be a cost Say my name is boba fett I know my *BLAM* is tight Start not acting in right, you're frozen in carbonite Got telescopic sight, flame throwers on my wrist You still don't get the gist, spiked boots are made to kick Targets are made to hit, you think I give a *BLAM* Yer mama is a *BLAM*, I see you in the sarlaac pit You just flipped my switch integrity been dissed You scratchin on my itch you know I shoot the gift Got bambinas at cantinas waitin to lick my lusty lips So I'll let you get back inside you're little space ship Give you a head start, cuz I'm the sportin kind Consider the starting line the sneaky smile I hide inside Hope you have hyper drive, pray to stay alive Don't try to slip me a five cuz I never take a bribe To the beat of a different drummer, bad ass bounty hunter Let no man put asunder or else they be put under As in six feet, got an imperial fleet Backin me up gonna blow up any attempt to defeat They gotta death star, got four payments on my car Hand it over to hammer head at mos eisley bar He used to carjack, now he's a barback Just goes to show how you can get back on the right track As for me that's not an option can't say that with more clarity Me going legit would be jar jar in speech therapy My backpack's got jets I'm Boba the Fett I bounty hunt for Jabba Hutt To finance my vette I chill in deep space A mask is over my face I deliver the prize but I still narrow my eyes Cuz my time I don't like to waste. Get down Slice you open like a Tauntan, faster than the autobahn Or a motorbike in Tron, do the deed and then I'm gone Jabba has a hissyfit, contact Calrissian Over a colt, the plan unfolds, no politic is legit Back in the day when I was a slave Living live in the fast lane like in a pod race My mean streak tweeked I became a basket case So this space ace split that place poste haste Took up a noble cause called the clone wars Cuz life's not all about girls and cars Getting *BLAM*ed up in *BLAM*ed up bars See I'm not a retard or gay like de barge I'm large and in charge with a face so scarred A cold black heart that's been torn apart The sith wish that they had a *BLAM* so hard Cuz it's long long ago in a -blam!- far far Call me master cuz I'm faster than pryor on fire I no longer have to hot wire I'm a hunter for hire with no plans to retire And all the sucka mc's can call me sire My backpack's got jets I'm Boba the Fett I bounty hunt for Jabba Hutt To finance my vette I chill in deep space A mask is over my face I deliver the prize but I still narrow my eyes Cuz my time I don't like to waste. Get down Star Wars rap. Go MC Chris! --Fused-- |
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Parasite isn't the right word, but it's the first to come to mind. <iframe src="http://gamercard.xbox.com/IXI%20Fused%20IXI.card" scrolling="no" frameBorder="0" height="140" width="204">IXI Fused IXI.</iframe> 
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| Shmithers | Sep 19 2005, 12:37 PM Post #74 |
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Guru
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at school! school sucks! blah asdgnasdgoiaeiohgeiofni |
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Nathan Spratt Photography | |
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| Shmithers | Sep 23 2005, 10:53 PM Post #75 |
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Guru
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I WANT THIS THING TO BE 117 pages LONG YEEEAAAHHH!!!!!! |
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Nathan Spratt Photography | |
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| Master Chief 2594 | Sep 24 2005, 07:13 AM Post #76 |
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Guru
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ndsjfhnsdjfklsdjahdfjdhnsuihfubidgfhnsuipbaipbfjandjsibhirfjsadn |
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I'm back baby! | |
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| J4kk | Sep 25 2005, 06:27 PM Post #77 |
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IS THAT THE SCHOOBUS? HUH DOUG IS THAT THE SCHOOBUS IS THIS YOUR STOP?? AAAA AAAA |
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| Master Chief 2594 | Sep 25 2005, 06:42 PM Post #78 |
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Guru
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BOW CHICKA BOW WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! |
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I'm back baby! | |
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| Master Chief 2594 | Sep 25 2005, 06:49 PM Post #79 |
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Guru
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"Hey rookie go to the store and get 2 quarts of elbow greese" "And pick up some Headlight fluid while youre there" "Yes Sir" "Other way rookie" "I know just have to turn around thats all" ------------------------------------------------- "How stupid do they think I am? Elbow greese? Once I get back from the store with that Headlight fluid Im gonna have a serious talk with the Sargent" ------------------------------------------------- "OH SWEET!!! THEY SELL TANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" ------------------------------------------------- "Welcome General I expect youve come to inspcet the flag?" "Im not a general im still a Private" "Is this all you have? Any elbow greese?" "No sir i dont think so" "Headlight fluid?" "No sir" "All you have is this stupid flag?" "I think so" ------------------------------------------------- "There gonna give me so much *BLAM* for coming back with this stupid flag....." |
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I'm back baby! | |
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| FusedDanksta | Sep 26 2005, 04:39 AM Post #80 |
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Bane of Stupidity
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Buenas tardes amigo Hola, my good friend Cinco de Mayo's on Tuesday And I hoped we'd see each other again You killed my brother last winter You shot him three times in the back In the night I still hear mama weeping Oh mama, still dresses in black I looked at every fiesta For you I wanted to greet Maybe I'd sell you a chicken With poison interlaced with the meat You... you look like my brother Mama loved him the best He was head honcho with the ladies Mama always said he was blessed The village all gathered around him They couldn't believe what they saw I said it was you that had killed him And that I'd find you and upstand the law The people of the village believed me Mama... she wanted revenge I told her I'd see that she was honored I'd find you and put you to death So now... now that I've found you On this such a joyous day I tell you it was me who killed him But the truth I'll never have to say Buenas tardes amigo Hola, my good friend Cinco de Mayo's on Tuesday And I hoped we'd see each other again Yes, I hoped we'd see each other again I hoped we'd see each other again Bueno Tardes, Amigo. Ween- Chocolate and Cheese Listen to the Song here! |
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Parasite isn't the right word, but it's the first to come to mind. <iframe src="http://gamercard.xbox.com/IXI%20Fused%20IXI.card" scrolling="no" frameBorder="0" height="140" width="204">IXI Fused IXI.</iframe>
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| Master Chief 2594 | Sep 26 2005, 04:48 AM Post #81 |
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Guru
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Hokie Pokie Hokie Pokie |
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I'm back baby! | |
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| FusedDanksta | Sep 26 2005, 04:56 AM Post #82 |
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Bane of Stupidity
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(Pow, ha!) Imagine your brain as a canister filled with ink, yeah now think of your body as the pen where the ink resides use the two, kapow! what are you now? you're the human magic marker won't you please surprise my eyes? it's in your nature, you can paint whatever picture you like no matter what Ted Koppel says on channel 4 tonight so modify this third rock from the sun by painting myriads of pictures with the colors of the one I'm sick of painting in black and white my pen is dry, now I'm uptight so sick of limiting myself to fit your definition I'm sick of painting in black and white my pen is dry, now I'm uptight so sick of limiting myself to fit your definition Picture the scene, where whatever you thought would in the blink of an eye, manifest and become illustrated you'd be sure man that every line drawn reflected a life that you loved not an existence that you hated so must we demonstrate that we can't get it straight? we've painted a picture, now we're drowning in paint lets figure out what the *BLAM* it's about before the picture we painted chews us up and spits us out I'm sick of painting in black and white my pen is dry, now I'm uptight so sick of limiting myself to fit your definition I'm sick of painting in black and white my pen is dry, now I'm uptight so sick of limiting myself to fit your definition Redefine oooh yeah I'm sick of painting in black and white my pen is dry, now I'm uptight so sick of limiting myself to fit your definition Must we demonstrate that we can't get it straight? we've painted a picture, now we're drowning in paint lets figure out what the *BLAM* it's about before the picture we painted chews us up and spits us out Redefine, Incubus S.C.I.E.N.C.E |
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Parasite isn't the right word, but it's the first to come to mind. <iframe src="http://gamercard.xbox.com/IXI%20Fused%20IXI.card" scrolling="no" frameBorder="0" height="140" width="204">IXI Fused IXI.</iframe>
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| Master Chief 2594 | Sep 26 2005, 04:57 AM Post #83 |
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Guru
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where do u get all of these? Edit: Just sharing some of my favorite songs. I dont write 'em. --Fused-- |
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I'm back baby! | |
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| FusedDanksta | Sep 26 2005, 01:55 PM Post #84 |
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Bane of Stupidity
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-A child's rhyme stuck in my head. It said that life is but a dream. I've spent so many years in question, to find I've known this all along.- "So good to see you. I've missed you so much. So glad it's over. I've missed you so much. Came out to watch you play. Why are you running away? Came out to watch you play. Why are you running?" -Shrouding all the ground around me. Is this holy crow above me. Black as holes within a memory and blue as our new second sun. I stick my hand into his shadow to pull the pieces from the sand. Which I attempt to reassemble to see just who I might have been. I do not recognize the vessel, but the eyes seem so familiar. Like phosphorescent desert buttons singing one familiar song... - "So good to see you. I've missed you so much. So glad it's over. I've missed you so much. Came out to watch you play. Why are you running away? Came out to watch you play. Why are you running away?" (Prying open my third eye. 4x) So good to see you once again. I thought that you were hiding. And you thought that I had run away. Chasing the tail of dogma. (Opened my eye 3x) And there we were (Opened my eye 3x) And there we were So good to see you once again I thought that you were hiding from me. And you thought that I had run away. Chasing a trail of smoke and reason. Hidden Song. Tool, AEnima --Fused-- |
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Parasite isn't the right word, but it's the first to come to mind. <iframe src="http://gamercard.xbox.com/IXI%20Fused%20IXI.card" scrolling="no" frameBorder="0" height="140" width="204">IXI Fused IXI.</iframe>
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| Shmithers | Sep 27 2005, 03:10 PM Post #85 |
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Guru
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EAGLEHEART by Stratovarius [Music: Tolkki. Words: Tolkki/Kotipelto] All through the night he is lying awake Wond'ring how much more can he take Watching the walls where the shadows dance Drifting away into a trance And his eyes are blazing with fire Dreams burnt to ashes so many times Highest of mountains, still he climbs Ready to fly, cause he just can't stay Flame burning brighter with every day And his eyes are blazing with fire Longing for the deepest desire Heart of an eagle He flies through the rainbow Into a new world and finds the sun Spreading his wings Above all the sorrows The glory of Eagleheart Fever is burning in his veins Determined with courage, breaking the chains Back against the wall under blood red skies Prepared to fight until he dies And his eyes are blazing with fire Longing for the deepest desire Heart of an eagle He flies through the rainbow Into a new world and finds the sun Spreading his wings Above all the sorrows The glory of Eagleheart Heart of an eagle He flies through the rainbow Into a new world and finds the sun Spreading his wings Above all the sorrows The glory of Eagleheart |
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Nathan Spratt Photography | |
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| Delta 0M0R5 | Sep 27 2005, 03:56 PM Post #86 |
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The ownage
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Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go So make the best of this test, and don't ask why It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right. I hope you had the time of your life. So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial For what it's worth it was worth all the while It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right. I hope you had the time of your life. It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right. I hope you had the time of your life. It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right. I hope you had the time of your life. |
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"The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax-- Of cabbages--and kings-- The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars But in ourselves that we are underlings. | |
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| Master Chief 2594 | Sep 27 2005, 04:40 PM Post #87 |
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Guru
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Good Riddence delta... gosh anyone else here besides me and delta green day freaks? |
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I'm back baby! | |
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| FusedDanksta | Sep 28 2005, 04:18 PM Post #88 |
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Bane of Stupidity
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Oh in a Little District, In a neighborhood, People movin' swift, Like they think they should A word from your mouth, Your lights get knocked out A blast to your lip, And later you move and slip And if you have to don't trip I don't know how they manage But believe me Mr., they do If you ever live there, You just listen and don't be no fool In a Little District, In a neighborhood, People movin' swift, Like they think they should A word from your mouth, Your lights get knocked out A blast from your lip, Later you move and trip And if you have to just slip No one ask no question, No one tell no lie Listen to me people , The reason why A word from your mouth, Your lights get knocked out A blast to your lip, And later you move and trip And if you have to just slip I don't know how they manage But believe me, Mr., they do If you ever live there You just listen and don't be no fool In a Little District, In a neighborhood, People movin' swift, Like they think they should A word from your mouth, Your lights get knocked out A blast from your lip, And later you move and trip Little District, Sublime Acoustic |
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Parasite isn't the right word, but it's the first to come to mind. <iframe src="http://gamercard.xbox.com/IXI%20Fused%20IXI.card" scrolling="no" frameBorder="0" height="140" width="204">IXI Fused IXI.</iframe>
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| Shmithers | Sep 28 2005, 06:24 PM Post #89 |
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Guru
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I like Green Day, but Europeian Progressive Power metal is my favourite style. |
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Nathan Spratt Photography | |
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| FusedDanksta | Sep 28 2005, 06:27 PM Post #90 |
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Bane of Stupidity
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Do me a favor and name a band that describes themselves as "European Progressive Power Metal". I'm not being sarcastic, I really want to know. Would you say Dimmu Borgir? I think that's more of European Death Metal, but what do I know, I'm American...... --Fused-- |
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Parasite isn't the right word, but it's the first to come to mind. <iframe src="http://gamercard.xbox.com/IXI%20Fused%20IXI.card" scrolling="no" frameBorder="0" height="140" width="204">IXI Fused IXI.</iframe>
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| FusedDanksta | Sep 28 2005, 06:32 PM Post #91 |
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Bane of Stupidity
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"I've watched through his eyes, I've listened through his ears, and I tell you he's the one. Or at least as close as we're going to get." "That's what you said about the brother." "The brother tested out impossible. For other reasons. Nothing to do with his ability." "Same with the sister. And there are doubts about him. He's too malleable. Too willing to submerge himself in someone else's will." "Not if the other person is his enemy." "So what do we do? Surround him with enemies all the time?" "If we have to." "I thought you said you liked this kid." "If the buggers get him, they'll make me look like his favorite uncle." "All right. We're saving the world, after all. Take him." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The monitor lady smiled very nicely and tousled his hair and said, "Andrew, I suppose by now you're just absolutely sick of having that horrid monitor. Well, I have good news for you. That monitor is going to come out today. We're going to take it right out, and it won't hurt a bit." Ender nodded. It was a lie, of course, that it wouldn't hurt a bit. But since adults always said it when it was going to hurt, he could count on that statement as an accurate prediction of the future. Sometimes lies were more dependable than the truth. "So if you'll just come over here, Andrew, just sit right up here on the examining table. The doctor will be in to see you in a moment." The monitor gone. Ender tried to imagine the little device missing from the back of his neck. I'll roll over on my back in bed and it won't be pressing there. I won't feel it tingling and taking up the heat when I shower. And Peter won't hate me anymore. I'll come home and show him that the monitor's gone, and he'll see that I didn't make it, either. That I'll just be a normal kid now, like him. That won't be so bad then. He'll forgive me that I had my monitor a whole year longer than he had his. We'll be-- Not friends, probably. No, Peter was too dangerous. Peter got so angry. Brothers, though. Not enemies, not friends, but brothers -- able to live in the same house. He won't hate me, he'll just leave me alone. And when he wants to play buggers and astronauts, maybe I won't have to play, maybe I can just go read a book. But Ender knew, even as he thought it, that Peter wouldn't leave him alone. There was something in Peter's eyes, when he was in his mad mood, and whenever Ender saw that look, that glint, he knew that the one thing Peter would not do was leave him alone. I'm practicing piano, Ender. Come turn the pages for me. Oh, is the monitor boy too busy to help his brother? Is he too smart? Got to go kill some buggers, astronaut? No, no, I don't want your help. I can do it on my own, you little bastard, you little Third. "This won't take long, Andrew," said the doctor. Ender nodded. "It's designed to be removed. Without infection, without damage. But there'll be some tickling, and some people say they have a feeling of something missing. You'll keep looking around for something, something you were looking for, but you can't find it, and you can't remember what it was. So I'll tell you. It's the monitor you're looking for, and it isn't there. In a few days that feeling will pass." The doctor was twisting something at the back of Ender's head. Suddenly a pain stabbed through him like a needle from his neck to his groin. Ender felt his back spasm, and his body arched violently backward; his head struck the bed. He could feel his legs thrashing, and his hands were clenching each other, wringing each other so tightly that they arched. "Deedee!" shouted the doctor. "I need you!" The nurse ran in, gasped. "Got to relax these muscles. Get it to me, now! What are you waiting for!" Something changed hands; Ender could not see. He lurched to one side and fell off the examining table. "Catch him!" cried the nurse. "Just hold him steady--" "You hold him, doctor, he's too strong for me--" "Not the whole thing! You'll stop his heart--" Ender felt a needle enter his back just above the neck of his shirt. It burned, but wherever in him the fire spread, his muscles gradually unclenched. Now he could cry for the fear and pain of it. "Are you all right, Andrew?" the nurse asked. Andrew could not remember how to speak. They lifted him onto the table. They checked his pulse, did other things; he did not understand at all. The doctor was trembling; his voice shook as he spoke. "They leave these things in the kids for three years, what do they expect? We could have switched him off, do you realize that? We could have unplugged his brain for all time." "When does the drug wear off?" asked the nurse. "Keep him here for at least an hour. Watch him. If he doesn't start talking in fifteen minutes, call me. Could have unplugged him forever. I don't have the brains of a bugger." * * * He got back to Miss Pumphrey's class only fifteen minutes before the closing bell. He was still a little unsteady on his feet. "Are you all right, Andrew?" asked Miss Pumphrey. He nodded. "Were you ill?" He shook his head. "You don't look well." "I'm OK." "You'd better sit down, Andrew." He started toward his seat, but stopped. Now what was I looking for? I can't think what I was looking for. "Your seat is over there," said Miss Pumphrey. He sat down, but it was something else he needed, something he had lost. I'll find it late. "Your monitor," whispered the girl behind him. Andrew shrugged. "His monitor," she whispered to the others. Andrew reached up and felt his neck. There was a bandaid. It was gone. He was just like everybody else now. "Washed out, Andy?" asked a boy who sat across the aisle and behind him. Couldn't think of his name. Peter. No, that was someone else. "Quiet, Mr. Stilson," said Miss Pumphrey. Stilson smirked. Miss Pumphrey talked about multiplication. Ender doodled on his desk, drawing contour maps of mountainous islands and then telling his desk to display them in three dimensions from every angle. The teacher would know, of course, that he wasn't paying attention, but she wouldn't bother him. He always knew the answer, even when she thought he wasn't paying attention. In the corner of his desk a word appeared and began marching around the perimeter of the desk. It was upside down and backward at first, but Ender knew what it said long before it reached the bottom of the desk and turned right side up. THIRD Ender smiled. He was the one who had figured out how to send messages and make them march -- even as his secret enemy called him names, the method of delivery praised him. It was not his fault he was a Third. It was the government's idea, they were the ones who authorized it -- how else could a Third like Ender have gone into school? And now the monitor was gone. The experiment entitled Andrew Wiggin hadn't worked out after all. If they could, he was sure they would like to rescind the waivers that had allowed him to be born at all. Didn't work, so erase the experiment. The bell rang. Everyone signed off their desks or hurriedly typed in reminders to themselves. Some were dumping lessons or data into their computers at home. A few gathered at the printers while something they wanted to show was printed out. Ender spread his hands over the childsize keyboard near the edge of the desk and wondered what it would feel like to have hands as large as a grown-up's. They must feel so big and awkward, thick stubby fingers and beefy palms. Of course, they had bigger keyboards -- but how could their thick fingers draw a fine line, the way Ender could, a thin line so precise that he could make it spiral seventy-nine times from the center to the edge of the desk without the lines ever touching or overlapping. It gave him something to do while the teacher droned on about arithmetic. Arithmetic! Valentine had taught him arithmetic when he was three. "Are you all right, Andrew?" "Yes, ma'am." "You'll miss the bus." Ender nodded and got up. The other kids were gone. They would be waiting, though, the bad ones. His monitor wasn't perched on his neck, hearing what he heard and seeing what he saw. They could say what they liked. They might even hit him now -- no one could see them anymore, and so no one would come to Ender's rescue. There were advantages to the monitor, and he would miss them. It was Stilson, of course. He wasn't bigger than most other kids, but he was bigger than Ender. And he had some others with him. He always did. "Hey Third." Don't answer. Nothing to say. "Hey, Third, we're talkin to you, third, hey bugger-lover, we're talkin to you." Can't think of anything to answer. Anything I say will make it worse. So will saying nothing. "Hey, Third, hey, turd, you flunked out, huh? Thought you were better than us, but you lost your little birdie, Thirdie, got a bandaid on your neck." "Are you going to let me through?" Ender asked. "Are we going to let him through? Should we let him through?" They all laughed. "Sure we'll let you through. First we'll let your arm through, then your butt through, then maybe a piece of your knee." The others chimed in now. "Lost your birdie, Thirdie. Lost your birdie, Thirdie." Stilson began pushing him with one hand; someone behind him then pushed him toward Stilson. "See-saw, marjorie daw," somebody said. "Tennis?" "Ping-pong?" This would not have a happy ending. So Ender decided that he'd rather not be the unhappiest at the end. The next time Stilson's arm came out to push him, Ender grabbed at it. He missed. "Oh, gonna fight me, huh? Gonna fight me, Thirdie?" The people behind Ender grabbed at him, to hold him. Ender did not feel like laughing, but he laughed. "You mean it takes this many of you to fight one Third?" "We're people, not Thirds, turd face. You're about as strong as a fart!" But they let go of him. And as soon as they did, Ender kicked out high and hard, caching Stilson square in the breastbone. He dropped. It took Ender by surprise -- he hadn't thought to put Stilson on the ground with one kick. It didn't occur to him that Stilson didn't take a fight like this seriously, that he wasn't prepared for a truly desperate blow. For a moment, the others backed away and Stilson lay motionless. They were all wondering if he was dead. Ender, however, was trying to figure out a way to forestall vengeance. To keep them from taking him in a pack tomorrow. I have to win this now, and for all time, or I'll fight it every day and it will get worse and worse. Ender knew the unspoken rules of manly warfare, even though he was only six. It was forbidden to strike the opponent who lay helpless on the ground, only an animal would do that. So Ender walked to Stilson's supine body and kicked him again, viciously, in the ribs. Stilson groaned and rolled away from him. Ender walked around him and kicked him again, in the crotch. Stilson could not make a sound; he only doubled up and tears streamed out of his eyes. Then Ender looked at the others coldly. "You might be having some idea of ganging up on me. You could probably beat me up pretty bad. But just remember what I do to people who try to hurt me. From then on you'd be wondering when I'd get you, and how bad it would be." He kicked Stilson in the face. Blood from his nose spattered the ground. "It wouldn't be this bad," Ender said. "It would be worse." He turned and walked away. Nobody followed him. He turned a corner into the corridor leading to the bus stop. He could hear the boys behind him saying, "Geez. Look at him. He's wasted." Ender leaned his head against the wall of the corridor and cried until the bus came. I am just like Peter. Take my monitor away, and I am just like Peter. Ender's Game, Chapter One by Orson Scott Card |
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Parasite isn't the right word, but it's the first to come to mind. <iframe src="http://gamercard.xbox.com/IXI%20Fused%20IXI.card" scrolling="no" frameBorder="0" height="140" width="204">IXI Fused IXI.</iframe>
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| Shmithers | Sep 28 2005, 06:34 PM Post #92 |
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Guru
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here are a couple: -Stratovarius -Rhapsody -Sonata Artica -Helloween (Europeian? i cant rember) -Advantasia (SP?) -PowerQuest -Nightwish (again Europeian?) |
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| FusedDanksta | Sep 28 2005, 06:39 PM Post #93 |
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Bane of Stupidity
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Neat. Never heard of 'em, but that's cool. Most people don't have such broad horizons, Shmithers, you should be proud.... --Fused-- |
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Parasite isn't the right word, but it's the first to come to mind. <iframe src="http://gamercard.xbox.com/IXI%20Fused%20IXI.card" scrolling="no" frameBorder="0" height="140" width="204">IXI Fused IXI.</iframe>
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| Shmithers | Sep 28 2005, 06:48 PM Post #94 |
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Guru
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thanks, yeah i do like a lot of kinds of music, i cant really think of a music that i % " but some (like rap and country) i dont like as much as others. how about you Fused what kinds of music do you like? |
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| FusedDanksta | Sep 28 2005, 07:27 PM Post #95 |
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Bane of Stupidity
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I like all sorts of stuff, but I like Metal the best. Not 80's metal. Nineties metal like KoRn or Tool. I like some rap like Mos Def and Pharoah Monch, Cee-lo, and some Eminem. I really like European Orchestra metal, like Dimmu Borgir. I hate country and pop. I've had girls get mad at me when I threw their crappy Cds (N*sync and Dixie Chicks) out of moving vehicles at 75 mph. True story. --Fused-- |
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Parasite isn't the right word, but it's the first to come to mind. <iframe src="http://gamercard.xbox.com/IXI%20Fused%20IXI.card" scrolling="no" frameBorder="0" height="140" width="204">IXI Fused IXI.</iframe>
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| FusedDanksta | Sep 28 2005, 08:04 PM Post #96 |
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Bane of Stupidity
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Today one of the brothers asked me: Is it a terrible prison, not to be able to move from the place where you're standing? You answered ... I told him that I am now more free than he is. The inability to move frees me from the obligation to act. You who speak languages, you are such liars. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Han Fei-tzu sat in lotus position on the bare wooden floor beside his wife's sickbed. Until a moment ago he might have been sleeping; he wasn't sure. But now he was aware of the slight change in her breathing, a change as subtle as the wind from a butterfly's passing. Jiang-qing, for her part, must also have detected some change in him, for she had not spoken before and now she did speak. Her voice was very soft. But Han Fei-tzu could hear her clearly, for the house was silent. He had asked his friends and servants for stillness during the dusk of Jiang-qing's life. Time enough for careless noise during the long night that was to come, when there would be no hushed words from her lips. "Still not dead," she said. She had greeted him with these words each time she woke during the past few days. At first the words had seemed whimsical or ironic to him, but now he knew that she spoke with disappointment. She longed for death now, not because she hadn't loved life, but because death was now unavoidable, and what cannot be shunned must be embraced. That was the Path. Jiang-qing had never taken a step away from the Path in her life. "Then the gods are kind to me," said Han Fei-tzu. "To you," she breathed. "What do we contemplate?" It was her way of asking him to share his private thoughts with him. When others asked his private thoughts, he felt spied upon. But Jiang-qing asked only so that she could also think the same thought; it was part of their having become a single soul. "We are contemplating the nature of desire," said Han Fei-tzu. "Whose desire?" she asked. "And for what?" My desire for your bones to heal and become strong, so that they don't snap at the slightest pressure. So that you could stand again, or even raise an arm without your own muscles tearing away chunks of bone or causing the bone to break under the tension. So that I wouldn't have to watch you wither away until now you weigh only 18 kilograms. I never knew how perfectly happy we were until I learned that we could not stay together. "My desire," he answered. "For you." "`You only covet what you do not have.' Who said that?" "You did," said Han Fei-tzu. "Some say, `what you cannot have.' Others say, `what you should not have.' I say, `You can truly covet only what you will always hunger for.'" "You have me forever." "I will lose you tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week." "Let us contemplate the nature of desire," said Jiang-qing. As before, she was using philosophy to pull him out of his brooding melancholy. He resisted her, but only playfully. "You are a harsh ruler," said Han Fei-tzu. "Like your ancestor-of-the-heart, you make no allowance for other people's frailty." Jiang-qing was named for a revolutionary leader of the ancient past, who had tried to lead the people onto a new Path but was overthrown by weak-hearted cowards. It was not right, thought Han Fei-tzu, for his wife to die before him: Her ancestor-of-the-heart had outlived her husband. Besides, wives should live longer than husbands. Women were more complete inside themselves. They were also better at living in their children. They were never as solitary as a man alone. Jiang-qing refused to let him return to brooding. "When a man's wife is dead, what does he long for?" Rebelliously, Han Fei-tzu gave her the most false answer to her question. "To lie with her," he said. "The desire of the body," said Jiang-qing. Since she was determined to have this conversation, Han Fei-tzu took up the catalog for her. "The desire of the body is to act. It includes all touches, casual and intimate, and all customary movements. Thus he sees a movement out of the corner of his eye, and thinks he has seen his dead wife moving across the doorway, and he cannot be content until he has walked to the door and seen that it was not his wife. Thus he wakes up from a dream in which he heard her voice, and finds himself speaking his answer aloud as if she could hear him." "What else?" asked Jiang-qing. "I'm tired of philosophy," said Han Fei-tzu. "Maybe the Greeks found comfort in it, but not me." "The desire of the spirit," said Jiang-qing, insisting. "Because the spirit is of the earth, it is that part which makes new things out of old ones. The husband longs for all the unfinished things that he and his wife were making when she died, and all the unstarted dreams of what they would have made if she had lived. Thus a man grows angry at his children for being too much like him and not enough like his dead wife. Thus a man hates the house they lived in together, because either he does not change it, so that it is as dead as his wife, or because he does change it, so that it is no longer half of her making." "You don't have to be angry at our little Qing-jao," said Jiang-qing. "Why?" asked Han Fei-tzu. "Will you stay, then, and help me teach her to be a woman? All I can teach her is to be what I am -- cold and hard, sharp and strong, like obsidian. If she grows like that, while she looks so much like you, how can I help but be angry?" "Because you can teach her everything that I am, too," said Jiang-qing. "If I had any part of you in me," said Han Fei-tzu, "I would not have needed to marry you to become a complete person." Now he teased her by using philosophy to turn the conversation away from pain. "That is the desire of the soul. Because the soul is made of light and dwells in air, it is that part which conceives and keeps ideas, especially the idea of the self. The husband longs for his whole self, which was made of the husband and wife together. Thus he never believes any of his own thoughts, because there is always a question in his mind to which his wife's thoughts were the only possible answer. Thus the whole world seems dead to him because he cannot trust anything to keep its meaning before the onslaught of this unanswerable question." "Very deep," said Jiang-qing. "If I were Japanese I would commit seppuku, spilling my bowel into the jar of your ashes." "Very wet and messy," she said. He smiled. "Then I should be an ancient Hindu, and burn myself on your pyre." But she was through with joking. "Qing-jao," she whispered. She was reminding him he could do nothing so flamboyant as to die with her. There was little Qing-jao to care for. So Han Fei-tzu answered her seriously. "How can I teach her to be what you are?" "All that is good in me," said Jiang-qing, "comes from the Path. If you teach her to obey the gods, honor the ancestors, love the people, and serve the rulers, I will be in her as much as you are." "I would teach her the Path as part of myself," said Han Fei-tzu. "Not so," said Jiang-qing. "The Path is not a natural part of you, my husband. Even with the gods speaking to you every day, you insist on believing in a world where everything can be explained by natural causes." "I obey the gods." He thought, bitterly, that he had no choice; that even to delay obedience was torture. "But you don't know them. You don't love their works." "The Path is to love the people. The gods we only obey." How can I love gods who humiliate me and torment me at every opportunity? "We love the people because they are creatures of the gods." "Don't preach to me." She sighed. Her sadness stung him like a spider. "I wish you would preach to me forever," said Han Fei-tzu. "You married me because you knew I loved the gods, and that love for them was completely missing from yourself. That was how I completed you." How could he argue with her, when he knew that even now he hated the gods for everything they had ever done to him, everything they had ever made him do, everything they had stolen from him in his life? "Promise me," said Jiang-qing. He knew what these words meant. She felt death upon her; she was laying the burden of her life upon him. The burden he would gladly bear. It was losing her company on the Path that he had dreaded for so long. "Promise that you will teach Qing-jao to love the gods and walk always on the Path. Promise that you will make her as much my daughter as yours." "Even if she never hears the voice of the gods?" "The Path is for everyone, not just the godspoken." Perhaps, thought Han Fei-tzu, but it was much easier for the godspoken to follow the Path, because to them the price for straying from it was so terrible. The common people were free; they could leave the Path and not feel the pain of it for years. The godspoken couldn't leave the Path for an hour. "Promise me." I will. I promise. But he couldn't say the words out loud. He did not know why, but his reluctance was deep. In the silence, as she waited for his vow, they heard the sound of running feet on the gravel outside the front door of the house. It could only be Qing-jao, home from the garden of Sun Cao-pi. Only Qing-jao was allowed to run and make noise during this time of hush. They waited, knowing that she would come straight to her mother's room. The door slid open almost noiselessly. Even Qing-jao had caught enough of the hush to walk softly when she was actually in the presence of her mother. Though she walked on tip-toe, she could hardly keep from dancing, almost galloping across the floor. But she did not fling her arms around her mother's neck; she remembered that lesson even though the terrible bruise had faded from Jiang-qing's face, where Qing-jao's eager embrace had broken her jaw three months ago. "I counted twenty-three white carp in the garden stream," said Qing-jao. "So many," said Jiang-qing. "I think they were showing themselves to me," said Qing-jao. "So I could count them. None of them wanted to be left out." "Love you," whispered Jiang-qing. Han Fei-tzu heard a new sound in her breathy voice -- a popping sound, like bubbles bursting with her words. "Do you think that seeing so many carp means that I will be godspoken?" asked Qing-jao. "I will ask the gods to speak to you," said Jiang-qing. Suddenly Jiang-qing's breathing became quick and harsh. Han Fei-tzu immediately knelt and looked at his wife. Her eyes were wide and frightened. The moment had come. Her lips moved. Promise me, she said, though her breath could make no sound but gasping. "I promise," said Han Fei-tzu. Then her breathing stopped. "What do the gods say when they talk to you?" asked Qing-jao. "Your mother is very tired," said Han Fei-tzu. "You should go out now." "But she didn't answer me. What do the gods say?" "They tell secrets," said Han Fei-tzu. "No one tells them." Qing-jao nodded wisely. She took a step back, as if to leave, but stopped. "May I kiss you, Mama?" "Lightly on the cheek," said Han Fei-tzu. Qing-jao, being small for a four-year-old, did not have to bend very far at all to kiss her mother's cheek. "I love you, Mama." "You'd better leave now, Qing-jao," said Han Fei-tzu. "But Mama didn't say she loved me too." "She did. She said it before. Remember? But she's very tired and weak. Go now." He put just enough sternness in his voice that Qing-jao left without further questions. Only when she was gone did Han Fei-tzu let himself feel anything but care for her. He knelt over Jiang-qing's body and tried to imagine what was happening to her now. Her soul had flown and was now already in heaven. Her spirit would linger much longer; perhaps her spirit would dwell in this house, if it had truly been a place of happiness for her. Superstitious people believed that all spirits of the dead were dangerous, and put up signs and wards to fend them off. But those who followed the Path knew that the spirit of a good person was never harmful or destructive, for their goodness in life had come from the spirit's love of making things. Jiang-qing's spirit would be a blessing in the house for many years to come, if she chose to stay. Yet even as he tried to imagine her soul and spirit, according to the teachings of the Path, there was a cold place in his heart that was certain that all that was left of Jiang-qing was this brittle, dried-up body. Tonight it would burn as quickly as paper, and then she would be gone except for the memories in his heart. Jiang-qing was right. Without her to complete his soul, he was already doubting the gods. And the gods had noticed -- they always did. At once he felt the unbearable pressure to do the ritual of cleansing, until he was rid of his unworthy thoughts. Even now they could not leave him unpunished. Even now, with his wife lying dead before him, the gods insisted that he do obeisance to them before he could shed a single tear of grief for her. At first he meant to delay, to put off obedience. He had schooled himself to be able to postpone the ritual for as long as a whole day, while hiding all outward signs of his inner torment. He could do that now -- but only by keeping his heart utterly cold. There was no point in that. Proper grief could only come when he had satisfied the gods. So, kneeling there, he began the ritual. He was still twisting and gyrating with the ritual when a servant peered in. Though the servant said nothing, Han Fei-tzu heard the faint sliding of the door and knew what the servant would assume: Jiang-qing was dead, and Han Fei-tzu was so righteous that he was communing with the gods even before he announced her death to the household. No doubt some would even suppose that the gods had come to take Jiang-qing, since she was known for her extraordinary holiness. No one would guess that even as Han Fei-tzu worshipped, his heart was full of bitterness that the gods would dare demand this of him even now. O gods, he thought, if I knew that by cutting off an arm or cutting out my liver I could be rid of you forever, I would seize the knife and relish the pain and loss, all for the sake of freedom. That thought, too, was unworthy, and required even more cleansing. It was hours before the gods at last released him, and by then he was too tired, too sick at heart to grieve. He got up and fetched the women to prepare Jiang-qing's body for the burning. At midnight he was the last to come to the pyre, carrying a sleepy Qing-jao in his arms. She clutched in her hands the three papers she had written for her mother in her childish scrawl. "Fish," she had written, and "book" and "secrets." These were the things that Qing-jao was giving to her mother to carry with her into heaven. Han Fei-tzu had tried to guess at the thoughts in Qing-jao's mind as she wrote those words. Fish because of the carp in the garden stream today, no doubt. And book -- that was easy enough to understand, because reading aloud was one of the last things Jiang-qing could do with her daughter. But why secrets? What secrets did Qing-jao have for her mother? He could not ask. One did not discuss the paper offerings to the dead. Han Fei-tzu set Qing-jao on her feet; she had not been deeply asleep, and so she woke at once and stood there, blinking slowly. Han Fei-tzu whispered to her and she rolled her papers and tucked them into her mother's sleeve. She didn't seem to mind touching her mother's cold flesh -- she was too young to have learned to shudder at the touch of death. Nor did Han Fei-tzu mind the touch of his wife's flesh as he tucked his own three papers into her other sleeve. What was there to fear from death now, when it had already done its worst? No one knew what was written on his papers, or they would have been horrified, for he had written, "My body," "My spirit," and "My soul." Thus it was that he burned himself on Jiang-qing's funeral pyre, and sent himself with her wherever it was she was going. Then Jiang-qing's secret maid, Mu-pao, laid the torch onto the sacred wood and the pyre burst into flames. The heat of the fire was painful, and Qing-jao hid herself behind her father, only peeking around him now and then to watch her mother leave on her endless journey. Han Fei-tzu, though, welcomed the dry heat that seared his skin and made brittle the silk of his robe. Her body had not been as dry as it seemed; long after the papers had crisped into ash and blown upward into the smoke of the fire, her body still sizzled, and the heavy incense burning all around the fire could not conceal from him the smell of burning flesh. That is what we're burning here: meat, flesh, carrion, nothing. Not my Jiang-qing. Only the costume she wore into this life. That which made that body into the woman that I loved is still alive, must still live. And for a moment he thought he could see, or hear, or somehow feel the passage of Jiang-qing. Into the air, into the earth, into the fire. I am with you. Xenocide, Chapter One by Orson Scott Card |
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Parasite isn't the right word, but it's the first to come to mind. <iframe src="http://gamercard.xbox.com/IXI%20Fused%20IXI.card" scrolling="no" frameBorder="0" height="140" width="204">IXI Fused IXI.</iframe>
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| FusedDanksta | Oct 2 2005, 06:27 AM Post #97 |
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Bane of Stupidity
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You know, it's kinda hard to build a "Longest Thread Ever" by yourself. Jerks! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hangover Cures A hangover is caused by a combination of the toxic by-product of alcohol metabolism (acetaldehyde), dehydration, and Vitamin A, B (particularly B6) and C depletion caused by the chemical action of alcohol on your system. The symptoms are usually a dry mouth, nausea, fatigue, dizziness and headache and are caused by a combination of these factors. Apart from the obvious toxic effects, you should realise you're suffering the effects of a mild overdose of a depressant drug and your nerves are reacting accordingly, and you have also flushed a signifnicant quantity of vitamins and nutrients from your system causing a degree of metabolic shock that your body is struggling to compensate against. This is why hangover symptoms often include disorientation and "the jitters". Some drinks give you worse hangovers than others due to the actions of impurities called Congeners. While it's the ethyl alcohol (ethanol) that gets you drunk, amyl alcohol, butyl alcohol, methyl alcohol, propyl alcohol, and isopropyl alcohol is also found in most drinks to varying degrees, and the concentration of these Congeners will go a long way to determining the severity of the hangover. Vodka and gin (clear liquors) are generally lower in congeners than whisky, rum and bourbon, due to the filtering process involved, and hence usually give a less intense hangover. Unfortunately the congeners also give flavor, smell and appearance to alcohol. Another contributor to the hangover is the "freshness" of the alcohol since the natural oxidation product of ethanol is also acetaldehyde. Finishing off an already open bottle of red, or drinking beer that's been in the boot of your car for a week, will provide you with a ready made supply of acetaldehyde so you don't have to wait for your liver to make it in order to have a really good hangover. Most hangover "remedies" simply attend to one or more of the symptoms and don't really provide a cure as such. The hangover won't stop until the alcohol is out of your system: * Berocca - Puts the vitamin B back in, as well as the big glass of water it's mixed with. It's probably best to do this before you go out. * Coke - Fizz for the nausea, liquid for the dehydration, and a caffeine and sugar hit to make you feel a bit more lively. * Coffee - Same as Coke but without the bubbles to help ease the nausea. Try it with honey instead of sugar since the fructose is absorbed quicker than the sucrose in normal sugar, and it's better for you. * Ginseng - It's been noted that since caffeine is a diuretic like alcohol, it can actually make the dehydration worse, so try the herbal equivalent instead. * Vegemite On Toast - Something in your stomach is good, and salty is even better. Plus you get a Vitamin B top up. The same reasons also make peanut butter a good choice, but the oily nature might make some sensitive stomachs feel a bit yucky. If you do try try this one, skip the butter and just have dry toast. * Cold Pizza - Who knows, but it seems to work. * Asprin - Simply attends to the headache and does nothing for the level of alcohol in your system. Don't take them before you go to bed. * Bananas - Sugar in the form of fructose, and potassium, which is one of the things you lose lots of when you drink. Bananas are also a natural antacid to help with the nausea, and are high in magnesium which can help relax those pounding blood vessels causing that hangover headache. For a variety of reasons try a peanut butter, honey and banana sandwich on white bread. * Vitamin C - Another thing the alcohol takes out that you're advised to put back in as soon as possible. Orange juice, tomato, a 600mg Vitamin C tablet - doesn't matter, just do it. * A Hot Bath - The heat will sweat out the toxins that are causing all the problems. You'll feel a bit woozy at first but go with it and you'll feel better afterwards. * Chocolate Milk - This one was sent in by Michael and sounds like it's worth a try - "Regarding your hangover remedies, I would like to suggest chocolate milk. The store bought kind seems to work best, due to ease of attainment (unless you blew all your money at the bar hoping to get lucky), quietness (no loud banging of the teaspoon trying to mix the homemade stuff), and ease of use (the opening is the perfect fit when you have the jitters and no messy clean up). The suggested minimum dosage is the pint ( 1/2 litre) size, though the new quart (litre) can be used for extreme episodes. Other than the rehydration factor, I find that chocolate milk offers the tummy a soothing coating for the nausea. It also repletes some of the vitamins your body is now woefully lacking. The sugars (lactose & sucrose) and salt seem to be the perfect balance of the carb/salt fix. Many women can attest to the beneficial, relatively inexpensive, and legal effects of chocolate against depression, whether physiological or psychological. Last, the flavor seems to do wonders for that ghastly "did I try to mop the floor with my tongue?" taste in your mouth. So, on your way home, stop by your convenient convenience store, head on over to the cooler, grab one more "cold one" (chocolate milk, that is), and bring it home for the morning. Your mother shall compliment you on at least one healthy drinking habit." Here's a few tried and proven ideas for hangover prevention: * Don't drink. (doh!) * Take a Berocca before you start drinking. This gets a reserve of Vitamin B into you. * Alternate fruit juice or water in amongst your drinks to avoid dehydration later on. Avoid fizzy or sugary stuff. The purists reckon that about 200ml of water is needed to effectively counteract each 30ml of alcohol. * The alcohol in carbonated drinks is absorbed more quickly than in non-carbonated drinks. * Reduce the amount of sugar you consume with your alcohol. The forced metabolism of sugar AND alcohol by your body will accelerate the depletion of B vitamins and make the hangover worse. * The 2am pig-out. Pizza or pasta is usually best since cheese and carbohydrates are a good source of amino acids. Actually food is a good idea all round - before, during and immediately after drinking. Food doesn't absorb alcohol, but it does increase metabolism, activates alcohol absorption, and increases the speed with which the body processes alcohol. And here are a few remedy cocktails. At least they won't make you feel any worse: Poor Man's Bloody Mary * 5oz Tomato Juice * 3oz Light Beer * Salt * Pepper * Lots and lots of lime juice * Dash of Tabasco sauce Mix and scull. Bloody Mary * 1.5 oz vodka * Dash of lemon (or lime) juice * Worcestershire sauce * 2 or 3 drops Tabasco sauce * Pepper, salt and celery salt * 5 oz tomato juice Over ice in a tall glass add spices, then vodka. Fill with tomato juice and stir. Garnish with celery stick and lime wedge. Fruit And Stuff * 1 banana * 1 small can V-8 * 6 large strawberries * 2 tablespoons honey * 1 cup orange juice * 1-2 cups milk (or soy milk), to desired consistency * ¼ tsp. salt * dash of nutmeg Mix together in a blender and drink. Bloody Mary Variations * Use gold tequila instead - Deadly Mary * Use tequila instead - Bloody Maria * Use gin instead - Red Snapper * Add chilli pepper and beef stock - Bloody Bull * Use V8 juice instead of tomato juice - Vege Mary * No Alcohol - Virgin Mary Aunt Emma's Hangover Cocktail * 1 large can of tomato juice * 3 Tablespoons vinegar * 1 lemon * 4 slices of onion * 3 Tablespoons of sugar * 4 stalks of celery * 2 teaspoons of Tabasco sauce * salt and pepper to taste Mix ingredients in a container, let stand overnight. Strain and serve. Prarie Oyster * Olive oil * Tablespoon tomato ketchup * 1 egg yolk * Salt and pepper * Tabasco * Worcestershire sauce * Vinegar or lemon juice Rinse a cocktail glass with the olive oil and discard oil Mix all ingredients except egg yolk. Place the egg yolk in carefully. Serve with a small spoon and a glass of ice water. Banana Cow * 1 crushed ripe banana * 2 level tablespoons powdered sugar * 3 oz milk * 1 1/2 oz rum * Plenty of cracked ice Mix together in a blender and drink. Van Diemen * 2 cups of Ovaltine * Chocolate topping * 2 cups of castor sugar * 3 tblsp of golden syrup * 1 pkt of pineapple jelly crystals * 2 cups of hot water * 2-3 cups of milk (full-cream) Combine Ovaltine, sugar, topping, 3/4 milk, hot water and golden syrup. Microwave on high for 2 minutes, adding rest of milk and stirring after 1 minute Add 1/2 of jelly crystals and microwave on high for 30 secs Add rest of jelly and a bit more hot water. Microwave for 1 minute. Pour into cups. Refigerate. Serve with custard. Original Page |
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Parasite isn't the right word, but it's the first to come to mind. <iframe src="http://gamercard.xbox.com/IXI%20Fused%20IXI.card" scrolling="no" frameBorder="0" height="140" width="204">IXI Fused IXI.</iframe>
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| Shmithers | Oct 3 2005, 07:52 AM Post #98 |
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Guru
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k33p p0571ng p30p13! |
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Nathan Spratt Photography | |
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| magnus | Oct 3 2005, 12:39 PM Post #99 |
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YOU CAN TAKE THE KID FROM THE FIGHT BUT YOU CAN'T TAKE THE FIGHT FROM THE KID The I.V. and your hospital bed This was no accident This was a therapeutic chain of events This is the scent of dead skin on a linoleum floor This is the scent of quarantine wings in a hospital And it's not so pleasant. And it's not so conventional And it sure as hell ain't normal But we deal, we deal The anesthetic never set in and I'm wondering where The apathy and urgency is that I thought I phoned in No it's not so pleasant. And it's not so conventional And it sure as hell ain't normal But we deal, we deal Sit back, relax Sit back, relapse Sit back, relax Sit back, relapse Again, again You can take the kid from the fight but You cant take the fight from the kid Sit back, relax Sit back, relapse Again, again You can take the kid from the fight but You cant take the fight from the kid Just sit back, just sit back You're a regular decorated emergency You're a regular decorated emergency This is the scent of dead skin on a linoleum floor This is the scent of quarantine wings in a hospital And it's not so pleasant. And it's not so conventional And it sure as hell ain't normal But we deal, we deal The anesthetic never set in and I'm wondering where The apathy and urgency is that I thought I phoned in No it's not so pleasant And it's not so conventional And it sure as hell ain't normal But we deal, we deal Sit back, relax Sit back, relapse Sit back, relax Sit back, relapse Again, again You can take the kid from the fight but You cant take the fight from the kid Sit back, relax Sit back, relapse Again, again You can take the kid from the fight but You cant take the fight from the kid Just sit back, just sit back Can take the kid from the fight Can't take the fight from the kid Can take the kid from the fight Can't take the fight from the kid You're a regular decorated emergency The bruises and contusions will remind you what you did when you wake You've earned a place atop the ICU's hall of fame The camera caught you causing a commotion on the gurney again You're a regular decorated emergency The bruises and contusions will remind you what you did when you wake You've earned a place atop the ICU's hall of fame The camera caught you causing a commotion on the gurney again You can take the kid from the fight but You cant take the fight from the kid Sit back, relax Sit back, relapse Again, again You can take the kid from the fight but You cant take the fight from the kid Just sit back, just sit back Can take the kid from the fight Can't take the fight from the kid Can take the kid from the fight Can't take the fight from the kid The I.V. and your hospital bed This was no accident This was a therapeutic chain of events Panic! at the disco is my new obsession |
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| magnus | Oct 4 2005, 02:09 PM Post #100 |
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not to be an ass or anything but xenocide was the third book in the ender quartet my friend fused.i will be nice and tyoe up the first chapter of speaker of the dead for you..... |
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1:13 AM Mar 14