tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68714209548277631892024-02-20T19:30:57.269-08:00PK Placea video is worth a million wordsPKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.comBlogger122125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-21981721996012052632017-12-22T11:16:00.001-08:002017-12-22T11:16:15.919-08:00Apricot Jones part 4<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Apricot Jones was coming too his senses, but was still a bit loopy.<br />
"Do we HAVE to go to Grumble-bumble?"aked Latr<br />
"Yes, no question," said Indu, "but we need to prepare first. Apricot is the only one who can open the portal. We just need to make sure he doesn't open it too early. Just make sure he doesn't say-"<br />
"Grumble bumble bumble grumble bumble GRUM-BULLLL!!!!" sang Apricot.<br />
"Apricot, no!"<br />
Suddenly little cat paws appeared and pulled all of them through something.<br />
<br />
Suddenly they found themselves on their bums, in a bed of flowers, surrounded by pink houses and pink roads and pink people and everything pink. Little dwarf munchkin guys were running in circles around them, holding flowers and singing, "grumble bumble grumble bumble!"<br />
"I'm scared!," said Latr, "I'm scared and I hate this place!"<br />
"Where are we?" asked Apricot, "Did I do this?"<br />
"We're in Grumble Bumble, and yes you did do this," Indu replied, "but I don't blame you."<br />
"I blame you!" yelled Latr, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I just hate this place so much."<br />
"It is our best interest to leave here as soon as possible," Said Indu, "but first we need to do that one thing." said Indu.<br />
"What one thing?" asked Apricot, "And where are we?"<br />
"Grumble Bumble, I told you."<br />
"Oh, Grumble Bumble!" Latr lamented, "Why, did it have to be Grumble Bumble?"<br />
"That still doesn't answer my question," said Apricot, "Why is everything pink?"<br />
Indu started rubbing his shoulders against Apricot's foot, as if he were a cat.<br />
"It's better if you don't ask questions here, Apricot. For the answers will confuse you more." said Indu.<br />
"Why are you rubbing your shoulder against my foot like a cat?" Apricot asked, ignoring Indu's advice altogether.<br />
Suddenly the little munchkin dwarf guys turned to face the flowerbed which Apricot, Indu, and Latr were all standing sitting in.<br />
"You guys are interrupting our song!" said one munchkin guy, in a really angry yet hilarious high-ish pitched voice, "The citizens of Grumble Bumble will not tolerate your crimes!"<br />
"Why are we still here?" Latr mumbled to himself.<br />
Another munchkin dwarf dude pointed and said, "Hey, aren't they the guys that Boss Man said to spit on if we ever saw them again?"<br />
"Yeah, it is! Spit on 'em!"<br />
"What?" yelled Indu, "How do you know it was me! I'm wearing a different hat now!"<br />
All the the dwarf munchkin gnomes started spitting ferociously. Indu grabbed Apricot's arm and started running. Latr followed closely behind.<br />
"They're getting away!" said one leprechaun munchkin.<br />
"Throw eggs at 'em" said another.<br />
The munchkin dwarf gnomes started throwing eggs, and they surprisingly had strong arms. The eggs exploded like grenades and bombs and they hit the ground.<br />
"I hate this place so much!" Latr yelled.<br />
They ran and ran until they got out of the pink village, and was surrounded by pink grass in a pink field.<br />
"We can't out run them for long. They just get faster and faster," said Indu, "You grab any of those flowers we landed in?" asked Indu.<br />
"What? No, was I supposed to?" Apricot replied.<br />
"That's ok, we'll just use these."<br />
Indu pulled out a bunch of maple tree seeds and shoved them up Latr's nose.<br />
"Ow, stop!" Latr yelled, "What the hecks?"<br />
"Ba-jinga!" Indu exclaimed.<br />
Latr sneezed and suddenly a motorized contraption appeared. It looked like a mix between a maple tree, a car, and something Latr had for breakfast.<br />
"Get in!" Yelled Indu.<br />
They got in the seats of the contraption as Indu started to pilot it. A voice emitted from the seat that Apricot was sitting in. It sounded like an opera guy. "I will protect you," it said, as tree roots wrapped around Apricot's waist and torso.<br />
"Whoa," said Apricot, "Easy there."<br />
The same thing happened with Latr's seat, but roots also wrapped around his nose.<br />
"Protect the mother nose" the seat said.<br />
"This is uncomfortable but it smells good," said Latr.<br />
Indu sat in his seat and pulled back on some branches. Suddenly the contraption started moving and hovering in the air. Soon they were high in the sky. Unfortunately, one munchkin dwarf with a particularly good arm as well as accurate aim, threw an egg the hit the back underside of the contraption. The explosion caused to the contraption to shake violently, but it was luckily still airborne. But now sap was leaking from maple-copter.<br />
"The mother nose has been saved" said Latr's chair, as it unwrapped it's roots from Latr's nose.<br />
"Gee, thanks." said Latr, sarcastically.<br />
The leaking sap was burning whatever it landed on, leaving a trail of fire behind.<br />
"That's not good," said Indu.<br />
"This place is too pink, I hate it!" said, Latr.<br />
"Warning. Warning. Low on sap." Indu's chair alerted.<br />
"I was afraid of that," said Indu, "We're running low on fuel, I'm going to have to emergency land the craft.<br />
"Where are we going?" asked Apricot.<br />
"Remember what I told you about questions." said Indu.<br />
"We're going to the Boss Man," said Latr, apathetically.<br />
"Latr, come on! It was gonna be a surprise!" said Indu.<br />
"Boss man?" Apricot asked.<br />
"Boss man is the high ruler of Grumble Bumble," said Indu, "We need to chop of his hands and put them on the Pangle Statue."<br />
"What?!" said Apricot.<br />
"Don't worry, they'll grow back!" said Indu, "Now...very carefully...landing this craft."<br />
As they touched ground, the roots unraveled, releasing its passengers.<br />
"Thanks for snuggling!" said the seats.<br />
"Weird," said Apricot.<br />
"Alright," said Indu, "the castle is just a few hundred yards up ahead, now from what I remember, the only way to sneak in without being caught is to SNAKE!<br />
Indu was interrupted by a big pink eagle with three talons which dove down and grabbed the three guys.<br />
"SQUAWWWWWWWK!" said the big pink eagle.<br />
"I HAAAAATEEE THISSS PLAAAAACE!!" yelled guess who.<br />
"Hey, Indu. Why did you yell 'snake' when you saw the big huge bird dive down?"<br />
"There are no stupid questions, Apricot," Indu replied, "Just pink worlds where questions lead nowhere."<br />
The eagle dropped them into a tube slide thing at the top of the castle.<br />
"Weeeee!" said Indu as he slid down.<br />
"Aaaaaghhh!" said Apricot.<br />
"Boooooo!" said Latr.<br />
At the bottom of the slide, they were greeted by pink guards in pink armor, who put spaghetti handcuff on them.<br />
"Agh, why is it so slimy and gross?" said Latr.<br />
"You don't ask questions around here!" said one of the guards, "Only the Boss Man does that!"<br />
The guard poked Latr in the ribs.<br />
"Owie!" said Latr<br />
"See? That's why you don't ask questions." Indu whispered to Apricot.<br />
<br /></div>
PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-4123308949832451222016-06-30T18:23:00.000-07:002016-06-30T18:23:00.957-07:00Every Time...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpcDY5gglMXOr8MjfxHV85YKEBn0XRIQ_imD-6QPhFkFGXbKV7QSvRkcDJmrbMRc9xpAWFE3L6XmtDuMepoVhWQo8sot7whAiczyRj6Ti92jTW1ejszUJwAkrJIYMX9nauNn7ueAitgnvR/s1600/owl.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpcDY5gglMXOr8MjfxHV85YKEBn0XRIQ_imD-6QPhFkFGXbKV7QSvRkcDJmrbMRc9xpAWFE3L6XmtDuMepoVhWQo8sot7whAiczyRj6Ti92jTW1ejszUJwAkrJIYMX9nauNn7ueAitgnvR/s640/owl.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-86120144133842446392016-06-29T18:24:00.000-07:002016-06-29T18:24:32.186-07:00Name That Celebrity Drawing Quiz<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Whoever can guess who this celeb is gets a virtual high-five.<br />
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Also, can you tell which one I traced and which one I drew from reference? Betcha can't!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCS9Y0YgTmYYv_MkrtCcOAs2r6pi2vEA94u8Guj1nXMnZ5ge1B0DvT-g3PsKsZekoJMPKpb0Mblqu9r_JiYXxpLCOtERG4RB5z3kAkXZyL9gVZZMXFPmG0qhAm8NQpgbVii5PRW8s3Atww/s1600/baiobad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCS9Y0YgTmYYv_MkrtCcOAs2r6pi2vEA94u8Guj1nXMnZ5ge1B0DvT-g3PsKsZekoJMPKpb0Mblqu9r_JiYXxpLCOtERG4RB5z3kAkXZyL9gVZZMXFPmG0qhAm8NQpgbVii5PRW8s3Atww/s640/baiobad.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCS9Y0YgTmYYv_MkrtCcOAs2r6pi2vEA94u8Guj1nXMnZ5ge1B0DvT-g3PsKsZekoJMPKpb0Mblqu9r_JiYXxpLCOtERG4RB5z3kAkXZyL9gVZZMXFPmG0qhAm8NQpgbVii5PRW8s3Atww/s1600/baiobad.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhEhk1dvoCxvWYsz7IGtl5sXyltlh_3JgHKvy_j8nbgo7spqW6OJ64D8QuTBIakFy3oBS4fayITQQOrRRBV1hZlN0w6dB2WpJ6h1HW6Q41yRhSod5Sjrj3Ukt4va2TYPhGAvlrYD-26pM/s1600/baio.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVhEhk1dvoCxvWYsz7IGtl5sXyltlh_3JgHKvy_j8nbgo7spqW6OJ64D8QuTBIakFy3oBS4fayITQQOrRRBV1hZlN0w6dB2WpJ6h1HW6Q41yRhSod5Sjrj3Ukt4va2TYPhGAvlrYD-26pM/s640/baio.jpg" width="494" /></a></div>
PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-30456683284930451262016-06-27T19:43:00.004-07:002016-06-27T22:11:31.736-07:00BYU is Finally Updating the Y to "Helvetica" Font<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's about time!<br />
<br />
After Brigham Young University's <a href="https://news.byu.edu/news/byu-announces-final-purchase-and-acquisition-y-mountain-trail-land">recent purchase of Y Mountain</a> from the Forest Service, Administers have officially announced their first order of action. Citizens of Provo, UT will soon look up to a much more aesthetically pleasing consonant. BYU students are especially pleased at the news, after decades of a government-forced, obsolete typeface desecrating our favorite mountain.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirIpE01INQ7pQJYVZS4g0znTJBXQNMg0CK1RFBPN6hwr-QpD0ENmsnLHkb2Nyd2gMLzIKpo3WFbdBuK9Fa4a-1BnJH08u9Jkql0GgjT8zqQ3WuWHCJtpas-rIxzPMxFsC1yeN9-aH__vpK/s1600/YYY333+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="545" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirIpE01INQ7pQJYVZS4g0znTJBXQNMg0CK1RFBPN6hwr-QpD0ENmsnLHkb2Nyd2gMLzIKpo3WFbdBuK9Fa4a-1BnJH08u9Jkql0GgjT8zqQ3WuWHCJtpas-rIxzPMxFsC1yeN9-aH__vpK/s640/YYY333+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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"Finally," said Graphic Design major Thomas Crean, "I'm going to feel cool again when I tell people I go to BYU."<br />
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When the new typeface was put up to a vote, Helvetica won with 99.2% (Comic Sans and Papyrus received less than one percent of the vote). "Helvetica is the most ideal font for our needs " said BYU President Kevin J Worthen, "We're planning on surrounding the Y with permanent lights, and they're so much more easy install with those huge serifs out of the way."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfCCQF8wCOrvTplmnb1t0hXwqJWHuFTRtUQAPVTkP1GIzrbjtAA9HXv66dkSnjkMGkLp4BZonAk-GrGhzac3W4RG3HD9WXqkuEQj7I6FaXy2YnbBzv075B4eQYkTSrj2613PS0A2ctNyk7/s1600/YYY333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfCCQF8wCOrvTplmnb1t0hXwqJWHuFTRtUQAPVTkP1GIzrbjtAA9HXv66dkSnjkMGkLp4BZonAk-GrGhzac3W4RG3HD9WXqkuEQj7I6FaXy2YnbBzv075B4eQYkTSrj2613PS0A2ctNyk7/s640/YYY333.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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It's going to be a big job, but we're all looking forward to it's completion in the next few days.<br />
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See also: <a href="http://pkplace.blogspot.com/2016/06/y-mountain-re-imagined-as-two-other.html">Y Mountain re-imagined as two other fonts and an emoji.</a><br />
<div class="byu-content-bottom" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: "Whitney SSm A", "Whitney SSm B", OpenSans, Thonburi, DroidSans, "Droid Sans", sans-serif, "Lucida Grande", "Lucida Sans Unicode", "Lucida Sans", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 26px;">
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PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-38405449711897498352016-06-27T19:43:00.002-07:002016-06-27T19:43:21.079-07:00Y Mountain re-imagined as two other fonts and an emoji.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Ever imagined thy Y as different fonts? Yeah, me neither, but you know, ummm, Photoshop. Ok here we go.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXp-rbLhSymOtxvvbLSea0kHKfG96KiJx5DBrNySnhoXnUKMa4rbUdyFh8ELpGWCZY_uGHy731Ofb8U_U5Nu6y8Vy-wH_K-zCHEgTiru7WZb15hDkMTpYDJvIW86hTfVeXUeSVQnEIW-g9/s1600/Ycomic.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXp-rbLhSymOtxvvbLSea0kHKfG96KiJx5DBrNySnhoXnUKMa4rbUdyFh8ELpGWCZY_uGHy731Ofb8U_U5Nu6y8Vy-wH_K-zCHEgTiru7WZb15hDkMTpYDJvIW86hTfVeXUeSVQnEIW-g9/s640/Ycomic.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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Comic Sans<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLNcVO2tXBw6UiR5F5EDm9XjZhoF2SRkHSs8YXr7oglsjxZnHbW24kTEBssP1X7h3lm7Bqdk5QQuWK4eB-yx41OiwJMwSXeubT-xGlDHTvUVlCi0Mpb2s8FM_TpoQ0RVwZCVrQB8uxHhQ0/s1600/Ynewroman.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLNcVO2tXBw6UiR5F5EDm9XjZhoF2SRkHSs8YXr7oglsjxZnHbW24kTEBssP1X7h3lm7Bqdk5QQuWK4eB-yx41OiwJMwSXeubT-xGlDHTvUVlCi0Mpb2s8FM_TpoQ0RVwZCVrQB8uxHhQ0/s640/Ynewroman.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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Times New Roman<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeZnxSQQ_qvMF4xCAuupXnmdALKtE99RYopr0pc0lPlOfYvgUYicq-Fb_sKj-MLlCmuAL0vbTBTl3ZQMP0vbsXeekKgFEd9dDrrbpBoOFDCVBDlltMU12s7wypPxDoup3_nmphH2pWa7xA/s1600/Ycat.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeZnxSQQ_qvMF4xCAuupXnmdALKtE99RYopr0pc0lPlOfYvgUYicq-Fb_sKj-MLlCmuAL0vbTBTl3ZQMP0vbsXeekKgFEd9dDrrbpBoOFDCVBDlltMU12s7wypPxDoup3_nmphH2pWa7xA/s640/Ycat.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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Heart Eyes Cat Emoji<br />
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Well, that was fun while it lasted, wasn't it?<br />
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PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-92077519127667706292016-04-05T11:15:00.005-07:002016-04-05T11:16:32.783-07:0012 Things You Didn't Know About Guys<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
GUYS ALWAYS CHECK GIRLS' LEFT HANDS, BUT IT'S NOT FOR WHAT YOU THINK<br />
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NUMBER 4 IS WOW<br />
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There are a lot of guys and a lot of things you don't know about guys. Here are just a few of many of them:<br />
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1 Guys have a removable left foot<br />
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<img src="http://i.ebayimg.com/images/i/161655038862-0-1/s-l1000.jpg" height="320" width="320" /><br />
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Male human being have evolved to detach their left foot as a means to escape predators. Unlike lizards, however, their left foot won't grow back. Therefore, they must go back a retrieve their left foot, and reattach it. Today, with lower amounts of natural predators, this feature is almost useless, and some men find it embarrassing. Tall men who live alone will usually detach their left foot before bedtime for comfort, and others are known to remove their left foot for pickup street b-ball.<br />
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2 Guys eat high amounts of salt<br />
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<img src="data:image/jpeg;base64,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" /><br />
<br />
Sodium controls the way muscles and nerves work, so guys need a lot of it. Guys consume an average of 37 gallons of salt a day. So next time you open the pantry and ask yourself, "Where the heck is all the salt? Where did it all go?" You will know the answer.<br />
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3 Guys are really good at pointing at things<br />
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<img src="data:image/jpeg;base64,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" /><br />
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Out of nowhere, you might see a guy pointing at something, or any number of things, and suddenly you think to yourself, "Whoa. How did he get so good at pointing like that?" It may seem unbelievable, but guys are just natural at pointing at things. If you ever asked a guy how he got so good at pointing, he literally would not even know what to tell you. He'd do his best and rack his mind to find an answer for you, and stress out and mumble incoherently in a cold sweat. Might even have a seizure. Yeah, better not ask him about it, just to be safe.<br />
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Intermission:<br />
My dog just passed gas and it smells awful. It's seriously worse than skunk juice. Ah, I can't breathe! What dark magic is happening in his insides that has the capability to produce such a rancid odor? And how is he not reacting to it himself? If my flatulence was this poisonous I would not be able to play it as cool as this dog. It's still lingering, for crying out loud.<br />
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4 Guys think bacon tastes like chocolate<br />
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<img height="217" src="https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/31/Made20bacon.png" width="400" /><br />
Scientist performed taste tests to determine why guys love bacon so much. So they sat down a number of ladies and guys, and blindfolded them all. First they fed them chocolate, then bacon, and issued a survey after the test. Most of the girls replied, "The first one tasted like chocolate, and the second tasted like bacon." Nearly all the guys told the scientists, "You just put two pieces of chocolate in my mouth. I don't get it." The control group, who actually ended up receiving only bacon, replied in a similar fashion.<br />
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5 Guys think odd numbers are confusing<br />
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<img src="http://krieger.jhu.edu/magazine/spsum07/images/minicozzi1.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></div>
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Guys don't like numbers that aren't divisible by two. It makes them angry. That's why you don't see a lot of guys working at cash registers or banks, unless the store has a policy where all prices are even numbers.<br />
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6 Guys use robot clones on first date<br />
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<img height="260" src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/UZjuVnY5a14/maxresdefault.jpg" width="400" /><br />
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First dates can be stressful for everyone, especially for guys. They don't like showing signs of fear, so in order to avoid that, they will usually send a remote-control robot clone of themselves on the first date. This is why first dates can be so awkward. It is because the controls used to conduct the actions of robot clones are pretty complicated, so it's fairly common for them to laugh out of place, frequently examine their surroundings, and spill food on themselves. During awkward silences, you can usually assume the verbal configuration is taking time updating new software.<br />
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8 Guys can't get out of trees<br />
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<img src="http://a.fsdn.com/sd/firehose/010/856/710-1.png" /><br />
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Guys can climb up trees but can't get down. If you see a guy stuck in a tree calling for help, he's not trying to be funny. Call the fire department.<br />
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9 Guys have a "why" chromosome<br />
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<img src="http://guardianlv.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/chromosomes.jpg" height="240" width="320" /><br />
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Something that may have gone over your head in high school human biology class is genetic mutation regarding the "why" chromosome. It gets confused with the "Y" chromosome because they both sound similar. The "why" chromosome is responsible for causing guys to do things that make girls ask themselves questions such as, "Why is he texting me to get dinner with him instead of calling me?" or "Why does he keep talking about his abs?" Trust me, they'd change if they could, they just can't help it.<br />
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Intermission part two:<br />
My dog tooted again. I feel like I'm going to die.<br />
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10 All guys share the same recurring dream<br />
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<img src="http://st.depositphotos.com/2300607/2487/v/380/depositphotos_24870165-Guy-is-sleeping-with-teddy-bear.jpg" /><br />
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While girls have various kinds of dreams, guys share the same exact dream of getting their teeth ripped out. That's why you think a guy is repeating himself, when really, you heard the same dream from another guy. They think they're having different dreams, but they're not, so just play along.<br />
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11 Guys hate Batman<br />
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<img src="http://cdn-static.denofgeek.com/sites/denofgeek/files/2015/10/batman-yellow-west.jpg" height="249" width="400" /><br />
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Guys hate competition, so when you hear guys rave about how cool Batman is, it's safe to assume they hate his guts. Guys know that girls like guys who have a) lots of money, b) British butlers, and c) a black cape. They know if they talk crap about Batman, girls will stop liking them, so they feign interest in order to fit in. Guys find it frustrating they can't be exactly like Batman, especially when they are so close to fitting all the requirements. For example, most guys have a lot of money and a British butler, but they can't figure out how to get their hands on a black cape. Think about it, how often do you see a guy wearing a black cape? Exactly, they just don't know the first thing about getting a black cape. They have no idea where to get one. How did Batman figure it out so fast? It's frustrating.<br />
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12 Guys are allergic to metal<br />
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<img 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UuVpc7/8Gxp9aGfw1iPMw6j+hl+5Q/vS/ltiNbXmWQCoC8Angf8AVx8RFReG81NslJ2BkH4qTxLes2/LclVDtsDMSxiTG5ial5qpT+xXxc0/ySWsowt20Ldxgkbgg7sTsQdvjjtVTM/BnlgGwxKqCT6pjeBHWPzqLGZk4ZgQg8oLzIVlEeoQsg8T0r214icWmCMutfwwSYYDfruOoH6Vkv7g9/Bxh8qxD2zbNoMCIV4hh8N1HsaXWw5su1jELGk7d1PII7oeo6TX1DwHnLXF8u66sQPTI0tt36H/ALVlf+MGVSLOJQbg6H/up+0MPg10XhmsXnJKctLJ40e/+HmYBJVHUg/hJk+mNR9gZ2/6acM4zx7NouLeoyAIPfuO1JPgLBBUW+DJbWCNIEQrLG3O5B+1M993v4/y7TFLdofxCsCTyfvJC/ZqPTVSx6T+dL/JmeZd718bNjJc3F2yrsNLGZHwYrRW8p4Iqlcy1uUut8OA4/aqOIw+JWY8p/bYf6f3rtVZJXK2cjmK6Zv0UqLmOIX6rEf9LR+ssK9/+rbaGLj6CPw3FI2PUXANJo/qJ+eDfo18DVRWXh89tOmu2dY/p3/tS/gfFOJuuX8jyrAJA8wEXHjaQm2ge5/KneWPuKsVDpRVPA48XBwQferlOmn0I1rsKKKK0wK4upqBHeu6KAPnue5S9q4CB5i6w3qeOOIUkA8fimuAqlNDFmYsdas2udJ21MI9AMbAbwKcM6ylb+neHSSu/fY7dqW72TXrRXgbEG6qgx2lQVJ/P4rz8uFzTcrg7ceVNJPso4jIbaMHuWmcSCRGkHQDuF68kxA2njiq+EyVVJ/hJbZtACshYqqx6gdtzuCZ30mOdvbzX2Z/Wbwn/wDboIExMH09dmmKtZfhbtws74lbZMFgGA2G4lSSAN/3rn8U3pIttpbbNLAWBaYOxhtR4lm0uSVVQJhAAdvbfis7H4cYnE6tDWkAXcr6jDEbiRuSDHOwNbmEyZLSaw8qo/D62ImfqPUtvMdBwBVe1mvlgXBh0IM/+6NaqnJYvA+kzAJ4NdDj2+L4RHz52uWeX8TbF82rgCsQAvvqEwfudvmrtu2q7H0qOyk/2FZXibN7TWwU2YxzAMDrPUTHFcZNmJIZpLpqMt7n26Ck+pKtrsfwbjfRuXcfh7almJhRJJB2ApN8Q+MsuuDSFukz9SIBz0lufyNNWLRGQkkaSPtFfMPEXgX+OvksUDkEBlOgDkkP8DYR15qlZeNPomo1yh3wN3EDAG5g1TVJ0rcY3GO8cjSvvERtU+X4h79kXnU3TEaF2DuNidyAEnjq3TblOw2EuW/4DXAxU8rqUaTIP+aDH+cc04v/AAlW7aMWhbgEssalJBKxPpK9AJ29hUvLf9kPrX92ZeMxFwl7hZShEW7cQdYWSB8bSCPaOtYGKy5sQ9wW1JNvaFInYjf35OwphxwDlXufVqJsqG3I0iIAII3k9CZrOyu1ibYZ7QBZyRvvuYOwHJk/7iue0qrno6JelwZWSWNLwwBIUwG9McASd+/atHNMQUcBRpMSYP71pYDJDZW5evw4VWJ6yV+k6up5mNqxvKw9zU1zUhZ9PMfhBjgzzM8Un0qlD/UTOs5zFms23gDoWnk8cAUrZjjGbhiW5kkAbf8AHWmTEZav+GTy1LGZK9WJ3VVIG/0n8xxVbGZOH0HSLa6WZ3knT5MBlY8hxvtyfTQ4be2YqWiTKgGUMCA8gQdxv70wXMDrtBLiTHMiRPAMdVjn4B6Um4jFHDRcYiXOoNAGpmAb6QIjfnYfnW3g8/LnUxQyB3Ee3zt8Vk6h8mv3IqLYuEslwFAwNtjJ0jSQEYE76SGAke/eucNlrBoA16SAwWGK6CFALRBJALH8qYMtzK2/ougFTwSFlTPY9PuDTflLYdQY21GSeQSes1bFCt98EclOV0LPhXJHW7rI9KsSJESTtJ94gVs+OwGwjKf5l/vTGl60Bs6fmKWPFF6xPmMQdAnjVx/eu6pmMTlfJyzTvImzE8JZc9pUQuALrj0R8EtJ33URHvNbXg3GraW+LoK3fNIbV1AG2/zqP3rLy9Ri9GIW6VZWlAsEKP6lPU/aspc2S9jWsYsgkarYbZfWRtuORzE8EkVzQ1CTkvSd7TNXN/8AxHUFltANH4jMH4URt7k/asIeL8ZffTZD6o4UW1A9zKnb3Jrt8kw+GOm4HuPMejYe0sdhPzVDMMNi7p8m3a8q12Tg+7P+L/e1Rqsj5p/6Kqca4SLuN8ef4IfxcQ2Jvni1bI0Kf6njc/FYeQZrmGY4xFby1R5BTTsqckzzt7nfirOE8LW8OfNYebeXcqdIBB4Kkj9fmtbKc4XDi6bNtfPuIQhBBCKSATtyZ3j+g1VNNKfj5FfHK7GzKcMty/5WHJtYXBtFwrt512PUCf5R1+/tUWaX3uMHRjbsg+kwCbkHoD+H/mpPCmYWjh1w+HDEAetz1ZjLE/O9d47KdMtanTyUmI6Ep25O3G9WSXH7/wA+yOd72aGXY3UVHWQJ4n/SmSkLI8Prvqyt6Z3jYiJJBXoZPHG1PtdeJcHPkYUUUVUmFFFFAC14lzJrbejYoss2w2kTvPG452/anl/ia48uVJXSQLZGgh9ULJP80H84AMVZ8YYRWG6atSMNjuSIIGk7NMHrI6VcyPAWHtrcC6p/mOojoJMkEx1rjat5WkzqThY02jJzDHW3klEUn8SsZKjk+kd9hEz0msnH4Zj6lchttjqIlvpneYUbkCZMc0yZzBuLaQBFn1MF5iDpO3BB39prvD+HvSIITbaRqPsSSeeT8kntE7x1dNdjzkmUn0JmEx10F7VsKWOxDEprjkmFidpEnbrPFQYoBkCJaNwESNbaQOh1MY1QwYADp2p1u+FzyHQkfSSimOu3uTuTyepNaWVZQLaaXIuEkkkiSSdzSz6a3wzXnhco+f5dgZtG1qIYy6BbLktsZDRI2kCd943rW8MX7CoVHoY7MrbbiRweDtuK3c2ya2FOxCEz6Sy+W3R1hhHvSU+XqranchmcAsIgg7C4VJJEx1k9eN6leN4q3wUi1kQ2abRDWlI76ZmJ3pXzIGyWZh6V6mf3Ne2srNt/NRy39QUHT1hk+ofltUv+DYsb+KvG9oI02kUBVP8AMVJ9RA39ux2pKXl+paKy/HpkGCUhVa5cCXnYOFJ3UagEAB2JA3jufar1+yxV7Vw+YAC4hdNwmZ/Dtp5377VEMQ25dLZATUjEb6iZEBtxtMz+9VrOLeGdWbWxGtlVvpXhULdDuZgCTtIrF9ga+SXDOlwNd0vbKKVQOdxKhBHcDgHvVTJs1uK0ogZADoBGoTMNEeqNt+1ZeOxD6mJIlgBpOpdgZ5j369ud6ackyTzlkFkJWIuICGQbfIXeNM9KIVVS12FuZnnokzbOvOs+WwVAdzBkFFEkHaQSwgLG/wB6VrmGN5glpZkNzuPMdBqO/wCADaSYOk/NP1vwoZkm2ZJM6TMxAPPQDYCB81ftZXZsSzRLdAInSCR7nqdzuTV3gyW92Q+tErUmLneWC3g/SqkoFKgggELAG3I2Ex0NI2ZZjigkqENsMy+sBXh99ohd1Dwx6jptT9mudXHtE+SPKYD+o6SJJjuNvzG+9JGHV7h8pZWWc6SVIBClRAnZtL7xyNPcwZvHyXibi3p7FPN8te5dHm6w+khVYAyltY2U9CenMERxVyzg2uYg21VVClQgMhGgBZJ6gkDf+qtvJ7kHTcREYSFIHOn0JqVtzuBsAeKsY8aYa6o0RMC2EYx9OkcsN5JlRv8Aaot7WmV66O08MXbW960V6+iSo+DVlSFHpZgYjkn9K37PiM7oLhGmAZG/Aj5G43ouk3Ny6t12j9qr9DG/0k/q3/2MnC3iP5m+Sa6xFg3N2FaK4aENzbQOW6cxz1M9KuYC1baPUOYqk40uGJVvtHzu5h7mExS3rT6bYIN63MakJgx/V296v5raw74o3LJuGF8xiQXGpAPYQZP36cU8Yvwopu+cEW5tGhuP9KTPFeHu2GBW0EDFQUWdC6GLA7czIJmd1FJlxuVz0PGRU/yRWMLfxSlP4mndlaAwUBissSywZBg9RV7DXLtuEv6ntf8A5FlNMEAerYNM8Ca7y7Kr2Jw9s2rhNxS4vKWI5Y6W25EbVBb8HYqzdLXX/gFVhNWwuahqYgGJ0gwfce9SWN68h3a3pjIotuVAW0ZnRD+ojrts3zE0p53LXioVUAS5bYqJ+oQI1Sf5t+RqPetTJ8ut4kutjFXFKEhglyRzEgj/AGKuXvDVywbDIfMS2xN0MRLKRsZPJUweas8dNbRNVKemS+Acv8jDFNWr1kz9gB/at29fiqtrFLp2XSPjrUmHw5cyeKrMt8EqaXJPlybyABJk7Vu2eKqYaxFXlFdkrSOWntntFFFMKFFFFAFbMMILiFZg8gyRBHHBBpawt+5hnIKtH4lPB43UydA552puqHEYZXEMKnePy5XZSL1w+jEzLBDEL5tqCSIZdhMceqPqG/tVHAZ49iEu63UbbqAy9J2gEfka0L+RsCWtsQx6gwY7TVDF5TfcgmWaCJMCAex+Np5g1CptPaXJWXDWm+Brs3QyhlMgiR8Gu6yMP/8Aa2Et7bAx2gf8ipMLmTNyo+1X+ol+rsj4P4Jc0A0gngHnt81m4/G4a2ga+9u2G2Gs8xzHfkfnUmOz+yddtGW46GHUESscz2P+h7V8x8b5Tijb1kG5b1FkSD/Dnn6tyIncARvsBXNmyLft5OjDDa54Hm/k1i+NVi4s8goZHHaZj4il3E5PiEb6/UAYbnUY25mAPuduK+P5Rjr9i9rtF7bTMj89+hFfePCPiAZhYM+m/ajVG09mHbioVE09fJfyqPyhaOXXR9cXNz7Ekk+whNhu0R2rRtYu4n1WgenpIMt7f0wPrMCvoGW3xdT1AalMMI69/vU93A22BBRTPcCrT6VpbmiNep3xSEHEMLqE3FUW13YzuSskqNQUrMD1DvTT4bQG2Lg4YCAOI6QO0VQxfhtjd1KFKyOVBlQI0n2E9f8AtW3lWW+VPqJnp0HwOAPYU2GLV7oXLcONSaFJ+cDznPr/APTY6l/p3Kk+wkzHt7040u+IMvKfxrUKR9XE/IPTk/nVfUJudk8DSot4XA4YorehwQPUTI+09PalrxHgbaXENoIE1BvREgjrIPboegMc1xh8eLmpY06ZGoaVg9fSRBMTO3X4oxCYgKfIew8Dh/SfaSTp/KuWsqufFI6Jxua22Q+O8ottattbLI10xKBTJKkyCeD027mk/C5bdS75HpZCOWQKG0rLDzOdjq56DaZrfx+a3rcDF4NlWQQ1otEjqNyKsWsdZxPl+TeWUIOk+hjE7EH0n6j+dSuput9FJmpkoLhbwULbssQRDBwbi8zKzu3wSPtUmFyZw2trYvSI8seYhAEj6pIUDYfhHMU/4jMtOhbVsuSfUY0hB1meT2AqHF3m22hTzq1SfjbSP1ql4oXTJzlp/BhraxIjzTb8q2AdCqNMjieSw4Ek9TtxVLMsFeYm6LgtEiBoJRd4J3XcCVngk9aZRftoAHttDf1qQfsYqtj8RhgoXy3BY+kSm5/M/wBqHC12aqe+hNbH5hbGzNcUghCb+kMJBBjTJ2JEDcECduebuKuPbAuTaLtpeXVlMkAEElZB0jkDg7Qa08Vci4BuCFJWUYnUNgm0Lv8AzbAdaYvDmCW5h2a+m+okSwLCOfUoG89u1LEeb8RrpQt6OfC+Ms4a2cOxOofxNQR9LK5OmCfxQvG3sOg8zrN1uqoF02lVpIBAZo4nsPal/N7tvDAkqxvv6lsqSSOuq625PwZNKGVZ4hvE4u0zWzsfLY2yJ6gCAw/2Kd5fFeBNY9vyPpuRXbQ1XEO5AHCrPUbwJrSxDC56SSp7Haf2NfI/EN7D7NhL11kYwbTiCJ7FTDD53+aa/DeBcYdQ2skEk+s/TqldUqwBjoB963HlpvxSWvwF40l5NjkmWbieB0rTs2IrzLbgKwDJSFbfVDRJBPcSKuV3JI5G2cqsV1RRTChRRRQAUUUUAFFFFABRRRQBQza3qWPY1iZdiYMHoat+KcZ5SqWQshb1EdI3G3Ws261q4UNlWWQfV0J5U9iCJ3H7GuPNWqOnEtzoWbuTDC5u+IaTZvJcugjeW2LJ/wBUloHYj3q/lPiA3303QbetiArAFSuwIMjkb8/kIrVxzu1lrLiJ+lokAgyD+3wTWZgsobzvOL6rmnSoEsq7ETqYAzuTA4mue974Kc1rZ1iMgL2xcsEWmkkI6rcQzs2zCYMd+3YVY8L4BExQYWDh7pUrcVPVacETqX+UyONp3261cueKLWFVExQKz6VgTsoE/bcVZu37F1Fv4e4DB2I5B/uPjrVJlJJox03tMu5bb0Ym4vRln/4kR/8A0a2qT38QKmKYqBc1QsAgEKBPpB+pjM6eYFN1twQCDIO4rpw3LTS+5DLLTTZ1RRRVyQVxdthgVYSCIIPUGu65c7UAI97LAl4WySrgHRc4JG+lQ0QTG0H/AIiv2HJKEsGOwO9th8QYnjkxTFnOEFxd1mOP3FYdq86HQtySOEcgx8SdQ/UV52TEof4O6MjpbIMJea0NLeadt2+qT3bRt+1YtzKsLibzKbQRoBF626WyT1BtSCT0nTWq1plYsuHCkmSUKgT8FgfyFGLu4hyrIXUD6vQtyf8AKX/cVNoojQy8Pa9Nsu23ql1RVA4gNsBEbCorzJfLKMU41MY0XAwBETDcSJE/NcvidgdL25gGQVXn1H0yOOld4sYdlUaC7CDrGkA9+BMn460d8Gdcla1g2QsgxJuHj1y/7xP2ry+lzSQGR46aVBB+xBri5lmFJBUMpBkqG7f9W1XMyth9lUIW6i2zAfYNprVL0HlyYmEuO1wWzbiWltUkkdYHA+SYp0Osm0isLSHVJAEjSBAUHaeTvPHBr3IcqKoC8Fu4EVYzzDN5ZKCSu45G/sRuPtXTGJzDIXkVVor4ZLWHVjaEliTqJ1MZAO7nc9/vXz3PMnF68X0C2TP0iAT0kcflThbxwWNclRtrUSP86jdT7xH9qkv4rCXQQt5NXbef0FJxc+L4GW4rYl5TlyLKNbZm2JAEhfcGQCTHIitrC27iq7BzbYHZCyhnUGQ2udKieJ95rm/dTDka5O4CsNvq6+qNtuCIOk9Yqs2KQ3PV6XiFHqKNP0nuBBmIMfma1eMz2ZTdV9zfwmLGiNNxCgG82HiTySgLGJk7g81o5R4htFyjX04BAZhP+/bpS3h7DQDIcKZnUJAPOw33+55q22ERzL2wywYYqA4BjefzPXj3rUqWnLF3L4pD0lwESCCPbeuq+Y2H8uy9tFuC7q9DqWT06uTvwR0g1q+CM0xr4h7WIlrYthlYgfVtILDnk/lVIz7aloW8OltDzRRRXQQCiiigAooooAKKKKAMzPsIbtsp3pIsWMRYti2Bujko3PpblY7TvX0oionw6npUsmJWUx5PFiZZz3aLtsg9xuKt2cxQbqG94U/7mtLH5OjdKxXwjWzsai8TRdZEw8V+HbeOs6CYI9SN2b/Q8EUneG8mu4S1f/xJa2ZCW7gMgSGGoAcxIgkbEcU5JmDCqGcYoXF03FlTzSXHD0bL5WxSxWAZCFS6t5uQ2oltZ3Ox4JjoTv23pz8A+IHYmzdMsN57gmJ+ZInvM9DKheylkbUDqBGzAfhph8CZY3nm8+ygQvuSRv8ApXJhVTkWjqy+LxvZ9LooFFeyeSFeEV7RQBXu2qws5yUXR6lVvkf2PQ0y1yyCkqFS0xpty9oQRk9239DXQO2rWP1k14mHvmZvMnzb1A/pT21iuP8ACjtUH6aS69Q/sJ2CV0nU+onqEj9AKnt2mJ2QNPZCsfntTUuFHYVMtsCtXpkvkx539jFtZEOSa0cPlyL0n5q5RV1KRF02FeEV7RTClDE5RacyVg9wYP5iqj+HEP47n/yNbVFI8cvtDq6XTE7HeDlDF19RIhlbcMOevWQCD0IFZDYG9LJcUQJ0NpHfYaYgekkddwD1Ir6RXDWwelK8U60astb2JGHy7SRuSBOxG2/5/pFamDww2Fb7YVT0rxcIBROJJ7NeVs4TCIygFQft+9d2MGiGVEVOqxXtU0ie2FFFFaYFFFFABRRRQAUUUUAFFFFAEdxazsVhZoorGjUzJu4GOlRHABtiK9oqblFFTIf/ACxl4G3++laeXWCD1ryisUJM122hht8V1RRViIUUUUAFFFFABRRRQAUUUUAFFFFABRRRQAUUUUAFFFFABRRRQAUUUUAFFFFAH//Z" /><br />
<br />
They aren't checking your left hand just to see if you're married or engaged. Guys get skin irritation and develop a rash if they get too close to metal. So that's why they act funny if you're wearing shiny jewelry. Also, not related, guys don't like it when dogs are flatulent.</div>
PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-5772312083810009482016-01-26T13:11:00.000-08:002016-01-26T13:11:40.319-08:00Apricot Jones part three (3)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"Hello, excuse me, hey!"<br />
Apricot recognized this voice as well. It was even more familiar to him.<br />
"Indu Thyme, is that you?" called Apricot<br />
"Yes, and I have Latr with me!"<br />
Out of the long hallway came Indu, wearing a bear pelt, and Indu, who was carrying a bag of newspapers.<br />
"I assume you've said your goodbyes to my older, younger self, then?" asked Indu<br />
"Uuhm, yes, yes I did. You were a lot taller back then." Apricot<br />
"Well, you know, his kind shrink over time." said Latr<br />
"We don't shrink, we condense," said Indu, "big difference."<br />
Apricot squinted his eyes at Indu, then Latr took his turn squinting at Indu.<br />
"Ah, that reminds me," said Indu, "You have that playing card, right?"<br />
Apricot pulled the Jack of Spades from his pocket.<br />
"Excellent. Now, Latr, you have that seaweed, right?"<br />
"Sho do!" Latr said, as he pulled a longish, slimey, twisy, green thing from his pocket. Indu took the seaweed and placed it on the card, folded it, and held it up to Apricot's face, who immediately waved his hand to keep it away from his mouth.<br />
"Ew! What are you doing!" yelled Apricot.<br />
"Eat it, Apricot! It's a sandwich!" exclaimed Indu.<br />
Latr laughed to himself, "Sand. Wich. Ha ha!"<br />
"Indu, it smells awful!" said Apricot.<br />
"Eat it! It's a hot-dog!" Indu persisted,struggling to get the seaweed encrusted card into Apricot's mouth.<br />
"NO, IT'S GROSS!"<br />
"Latr, come on help me with this!"<br />
Latr thought for a moment, "Uh, eat it, it's uh, it's, uh, it's a taco!"<br />
With that, Apricot swallowed the card and seaweed in one gulp.<br />
"Ow! My throat!"<br />
"How does it taste, Apricot?" asked Indu.<br />
Apricot stood silently for a moment, somewhat delirious, smacking his lips.<br />
"That was the best taco I've ever had!"<br />
"You're welcome," said Latr.<br />
Apricot rubbed his neck with his hand. "The tortilla shell scratched up my throat real good, though. That's no fun. Ow."<br />
Latr shrugged his shoulders. Indu squinted his eyes. Apricot licked his teeth.<br />
"Man," said Apricot, "did you put salsa in there?"<br />
Indu's eyes widened.<br />
"Well," said Latr, "I don't rember putting any-"<br />
Indu cut him off, "Yes, he DID put salsa in the taco!" Indu grabbed Apricot by the collar. "Where does that salsa come from?"<br />
At this point Apricot was getting pretty loopy and laughing to himself. "Who-dy, who-dy, whoooo. Weeeee!"<br />
"Apricot, snap out of it!" demanded Indu, "Where's that salsa!"<br />
Apricot's head was literally going round, as if his head was having trouble balancing on his shoulders. He raised his finger. "Well, it's not so much the salsa as it was the pepper IN the salsa. Or is was it a spice?"<br />
Indu shook Apricot like he was a floppy, puddy man. "Spice, pepper, who cares? Where do we find it?" Indu demanded once more.<br />
"Grumble-bumble." Apricot said, barely audibly.<br />
Latr's head popped up. Indu un-clenched his grasp and looked down.<br />
"Did he say Numble-pumble?" asked Latr.<br />
"No...MUCH worse." said Indu.<br />
Latr's eyes widened. "He didn't say Dumble-shumble, did he?"<br />
"No... he said," Indu turned to look Latr right in the eyes, "Grumble-bumble."<br />
"What?" siad Latr, "We can't go there!"<br />
"We have to," replied Indu<br />
"But it's the worst one! Why don't we go to Dumble-shumble? It's bad, but not half as bad as Grumble-bumble."<br />
"The SPICE isn't IN Dumble-shumble!" yelled Indu Thyme,"It's in Grumble-bumble, so THAT'S where we need to go!"<br />
Apricot burped, which brought him to his full senses. "Oh, man. That leaves a crazy aftertaste. I could go for another one, though." He looked up at Indu and Latr and said,<br />
"Grumble-bumble, anybody?"<br />
<br /></div>
PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-11482223001330149472016-01-21T17:18:00.000-08:002016-01-21T17:18:18.086-08:00Apricot Jones, pt II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The three men looked up at Apricot. Calm, yet impatient. These men were all scruffy, with short facial hair accompanied by some sort of smoking paraphernalia.<br />
"You're holding up the packs, greenhorn." said another.<br />
Apricot look at the Jack of Spades in his hand again, and then at the table, which had a Queen of Diamonds, an 8 of Clubs, both next to a picture of a Pig holding a trinket.<br />
Apricot Jones was about to ask, "I'm sorry, I don't know how I got here, and I have absolutely no idea what game this is." but something altogether escaped his lips, "Grumbeth!"<br />
The man to his left yelled, "Hogwash!"<br />
The man to his right started ripping his cards in half.<br />
The man sitting across from him declared, "call," and was about to hide under the table when suddenly the door got bashed open. A hooded man riding a horse entered the room. The horse yelled, "FOLD!" and the hooded man started shooting fireworks from two metal bucket-tubes strapped to the side of his horse. Everyone in the room was going haywire. Apricot instinctively put the Jack of Spades in his shirt pocket as the scruffy men ran toward the other door on the opposite side of the room. Apricot ran toward them, but they closed the door behind themselves, thereby stopping Apricot in his tracks. Apricot tried turning the nob, which wouldn't budge. He pounded on the door, yelling, "Guys, guys! Let me out!"<br />
The hooded man drew a scythe from behind his back, and yelled, "APRICOT JONES!" The man removed his hood, revealing a middle-aged face with a medium sized, black beard. Apricot recognized the mans voice.<br />
"Indu Thyme? is that you?"<br />
"How do you know my name?"<br />
Apricot was put aback for a moment, but realized he was speaking to a younger Indu. The Indu who had not yet met Apricot Jones. Yet there was something that didn't make sense.<br />
"I've bet you before. Or after. Or something. But if you haven't met ME yet, how do you know MY name?"<br />
"I know most people's names," said Indu.<br />
Apricot's head started spinning. I feeling he recognized, but this time it came upon him more suddenly and with higher force. It seemed like his surroundings were getting closer and closer to his brain in attempts to compact it, to crush it. Apricot clenched his teeth and staggered, falling to the floor. Indu's eyes widened. Apricot yelled in agony as Indu lifted him onto the horse and galloped out of the room.<br />
"Persevere, brother." Whispered Indu, "This, too, shall pass."<br />
Indu and Apricot, galloped through dirt roads of an old-western town. Indu made his way onto the highway until he saw a wheat field. Indu dismounted the horse and put Apricot's arm over his shoulders and started swinging at the wheat with his scythe. Apricot was barely conscious at this point. Indu kept swinging, making his way deeper and deeper into the sea of wheat, until what was the sea became the sky. Suddenly they found themselves swiftly free falling toward a small, metal building in the middle of a gravel field. The longer they fell, the slower they descended, until finally they reached the building. Apricot was slowly regaining consciousness. His head still hurt, but not nearly as much as it was before.<br />
"What happened?" asked Apricot, though he was slightly afraid the response would trigger another episode.<br />
"I'm guessing you're body realm-jumped before your brain could catch up to it."<br />
"So that's what all this nonsense is," Apricot thought to himself, " 'realm jumping.' "<br />
"You must have been here for a few hours before your head caught up with you."<br />
Indu unlocked the door to the metalic structure as Apricot followed him into the building. Inside was a series of pipes and tubes, connected to various machinery. They continued walking.<br />
"What other realms have you been to?"<br />
"I remember a forest, then an ice-world, a beach, and...and now here. The details are foggy."<br />
"Don't worry, it'll all come back to you over time."<br />
They walked toward a shiny column, with a tall door.<br />
"In fact," said Indu, "the slower it all comes back to you, the better. Well, at least it's not as painful that way."<br />
Indu opened the door to the column as cold vapor emanated from it.<br />
"Tell me, Mr. Jones, Is my future self is the one responsible for all of this?"<br />
Apricot nodded his head.<br />
"Figures," said Indu, and he smiled slightly, "Well, I'm sure he'll...or 'I'll' be here any minute."<br />
Indu turned to Apricot and sighed, "Tell 'me' I said hi."<br />
Without any further explanation, Indu entered the column, and closed the door behind him. Through the glass part of the door, Apricot watched Indu strap himself into a large chair and pull a lever. Suddenly bursts of cold, cloudy substance surrounded him. Ice quickly built up against the glass and Apricot couldn't see anything through the glass. Machinery next to the column buzzed for a few more moments, and suddenly shut off. It wasn't silent for too long, when Apricot heard a door creak open at the opposite end of the building.<br />
<br />
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PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-7635975605018251722015-12-28T19:30:00.000-08:002015-12-28T19:30:52.063-08:00Apricot Jones<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is a random story that has a lot more details than I put in the first paragraph. It's super weird and space-timey.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Apricot Jones had a paper sail. It got salty, and he made it a hat. He made many hats. A man named Indu Thyme ran into him, a short bearded fellow. Indu took Apricot’s paper, folded it, used some weird spinny glass metal device and put it in a trash can and zapped it. Then Apricot’s hat shop disappeared. He told the police, and when he returned, so did his shop, but it was a tad ascue. He went inside, telephoned the police, and they told him to leave the building, because similar things were happening to other buildings, so he should be careful. He gathered some stuff, and on his way out he saw nothing but white outside the door and windows. Then uniform black dots in the distance. As the dots got closer and bigger, he saw they were a bunch of copies of his hat shop. They all got bigger and closer it seemed like he would crash, but he didn’t. Suddenly his hat shop was in the middle of the woods. Idu Thyme met him there, his beard was more gray. Indu gave Jones a lens to read the paper, but told him not to look through it while looking up. The paper was a magic map. They wrote the words “sword” and “SWORD” on the paper, and got swords from the sky. Indu’s was better. The ran through the woods, met Latr the Native. They sent other natives who were chasing them into the void (including Latr), but had a way to get them back. Jones passed out and woke up in a big igloo with Indu and Latr. Indu cut the paper in half, splitting the world, and they got shot into the sea. An octo shrimp chased them onto the shore, where they met Santa-man. They got the beached octoshrimp back into the sea, which was angry and headed toward another ship.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-b7c234cf-ebc7-4ad8-ed8a-cb011bc1c754" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh no,” said Santa-man. “It’s going to take out its anger on Captain Afro’s ship. That will put them back weeks, if they don’t have enough waffle batter.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Uugh...what?” said Jones.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Indu looked at Jones with squinted eyes. Jones felt like opening his mouth again, even though he didn’t know what to say until he started making noise.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“The Library of Aquarius-” Indu Thyme cut him off by jumping up and covering his mouth.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“NO!!! Stop! You’re figuring out too much! Your brain can’t handle it all!”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Wait,” said Santa-man, “How do YOU know about the Library of Aquarius? Were you in the Breakfast Wizard Guild?”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“AAAAAAAHHHH. SHUSH!!!!!” yelled Indu, “Stop giving him clues! His mind will depload, then our Universe AND yours will invert on themselves, making a continuous loop of-”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jones kept moving his mouth and made muffled noises trying to finish the sentence before Indu.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No NO NO!!” Yelled Indu again, “Now I’M saying too much!”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Indu turned to Latr and said, “Give me the arrowhead!”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Once again, Latr handed Indu the arrowhead. Indu put the arrowhead inches in front of Apricot’s face, repeatedly telling him to widen his eyes. Apricot suddenly felt sleepy. “Don’t close those lids, Jones, don’t close those lids!”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Latr turned to shake Santa-man’s hand.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“We have to get going. Thank you for all of your help, Santa-man.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I have a feeling that this will be the last time we will ever see each other.” said Santa-man, “Are you exiting this realm?”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Latr turned to Indu, “It looks like it.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Hopefully your departure will put this shaken plane in balance.” Santa-man bent down and picked up some seaweed in the sand, “Take this to insure its stability.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Latr turned to Indu once more. Without breaking his concentration on Apricot, Indu said, “Take it Latr, it’s ok. Santa-man knows his stuff.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Latr took the seaweed and put it in his pocket. Santa-man put his hand on Latr’s shoulder.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Farewell, friend.” said Santa-man</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Goodbye, good sir,” said Latr.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Indu’s voice was getting louder. “Open those eyes wider, Jones! Look at the arrowhead, keep them wide! Wider! Wider! WIDER!!!”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Apricot suppressed the strong urge to close his eyes. He fought harder and harder until he took a deep breath, widened his eyes and saw everything behind the arrowhead expand out of sight. Suddenly he was staring at a Jack of Spades he was already holding in his hand. He looked around and saw three fellows in a dark room, sitting at a round table with him, with cards in their hands.</span></div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What’s it gonna be, kid?” said one of them. “Call, or bust?”</span></div>
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PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-36129156566607009272015-10-20T11:07:00.002-07:002015-10-20T15:32:32.927-07:00Chums Thrice (continued intro)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Griffgroff continued to follow the higher ups. Why had he asked such a dumb question? He knew how the system worked. Maybe his nervousness got the best of him, or maybe the system changed within the time he left and returned to work, which was like, 12 or so hours I guess. Despite his developing judgement, he decided to ask another question as they passed people digging and polmering hidges. "So you're Mervin, and you're-" The fat man cut him off, "You better not be asking what my name is, boy! That's a personal question. I've been working in the South Admatten Yewsih hidge minefields for more than 30 years. That's longer than Mervin's been alive, and that's all you need to know about me." "I'm 34" said Mervin. The fat man face looked up at him. The fat man's face also looked kind of like it was about to sneeze. "You count the first four years of your life as 'living?' You can't even remember those times for jumpumpfrump sake!" Mervin shrugged his shoulders, "I don't even remember what I had for breakfast this morning!" The fat man looked away stared blankly toward the trail they were walking upon. "You didn't eat breakfast this morning, Mervin," said the fat man, "breakfast is an idea you've yet to grasp." "Breakfast is hard," said Mervin, looking down, suboptimistically. The fat man grumbled, "You gotta let the milk soak into the zeros to synthesize the nutrients." Mervin's head popped up, "Oh, NOW I remember! I had corn-oats in a sogbowl with brabsberries." The fat man closed his eyes and sighed, "That's not breakfast, Mervin. That's a track bum's expedition. And I know you can't afford brabsberries." Griffgroff was pretending to understand what they were talking about, but it was evident in his eyes that they were looking for something in his mind to make sense of it all. Mervin turned around and half whispered, "You'll have to excuse my friend here. He's gets a bit fishfrothy." The fat man immediately stopped and grabbed Mervin by the collar. "What did I say about using 'fishfroth!?'" Mervin's blood started pumping slightly faster, as was Griffgroff's. "Please, Hurmpitcz! I didn't mean it! I forgot! I'm so sorry!" The fat man released him and mumbled something inaudible as they continued on their way in silence. "Wait," thought Griffgroff, "Is his name Helmpitx? Or was it Khrumpitch? Anyway, no wonder he didn't want him to know what his name was." </div>
PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-46157118558852769462015-10-19T16:14:00.003-07:002015-10-19T16:14:36.968-07:00The Chums Thrice (intro)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This was Griffgroff's 2nd day of hidge-polmering, so he basically knew pretty much all there was to know about it. Hidge-polmering was the kind of thing that didn't require a great load of background knowledge or even a V scrap ingot class education. Sure, some people were naturally better than others at ancient art of hidge-polmery, but the skill curve leveled out speedily. Still, those who had worked in this field for long lengths of time had to show their superiority somehow. This was usually evident with how "experienced" hidge-polmerers would argue with each other about the hidge-polmering history, the best place to find hidges, where to buy the best polmering tools, etc. Any never-before-employed (NBE) bum could polmer any type of hidge without any instruction at all. Sure, it might take them a bit longer to figure it out and get the hang of it, but sooner than not as sooner could they get three or four hidges polmered to a point where the passing floorman could be proud of the work ethic of his new employee. Well, as proud as anyone could get in this low-skill-field (LSF). The process was so easy that some people would haphazardly polmer a hidge on their way to work, without realizing it. There was one case where the Kiwi-lord's nephew-in-law was waiting for his driver, and decided to converse with a local enrodemph to pass the time. Eight minutes into this insightful exchange of words, he realized two things: One: That his driver had not yet arrived. Two: That he had spoken to this same exact enrodemph the day before. Three: (Oh, I guess he realized three things) There was quarter-polmered hinge three feet in front of him that definitely was not polmered whatsoever when he got there. This anecdote was well known around the village. It reflects the culture and stereotype of easy hidge-polmering, as well as the citizens' popular assumption of the Kiwi-lord's nephew-in-law's apparently low intellect. What were we discussing, again? Oh, yes, right. Our good friend Griffgroff.<br />
<br />
Griffgroff was following two higher ups into the hidge pits. The higher-ups were mumbling back and forth to each other without paying their follower any notice. Griffgroff didn't have a shovel, and wasn't sure if he needed one. He was worried that by the time he got to the work site, he'd be useless, so he piped up and said, "Excuse me gentlemen, do I need shovel? I'm worried that by the time I get to the work site, I'll be useless." The higher ups stopped in their tracks and turned to face Griffgroff. The shorter, fatter, meaner looking one looked at the other higher up and said, "Did this kid just call us 'gentlemen?'" After three seconds of silence and awkward eye contact shared to all, the short, fat, mean looking man burst into uncontrollable laughter. Suddenly the mean man didn't look so mean. He was more like Santa with 5 o clock shadow, if Santa was an alcoholic. Smiling, the fat man responded, "2nd day on the job and you're still asking questions? If there are no shovels at the site, we'll just take one from another, my dear boy." The taller, lankier, stupider-looking higher up bent down and said, "Did you just call that kid a dear boy?" The fat man's smirk went away as he said, "Don't steal my jokes, Mervin, I paid a lot for 'em.")</div>
PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-35570142512201623302015-10-18T13:09:00.003-07:002015-10-18T13:09:45.457-07:00South Andmatten, USA<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Jerrrthromz, though wonmst a haught mistro, has hithertwo comst donth the rain. It triveled and thrymed, yet somebody's getting grounded for eating my back handbasket's left of cheerios.<br />
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It all made perfect sense now.</div>
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Whoever made it all through, it was gonna break eventually. But the twist? Yes, a very of them. Saw it coming as a blur from a short distance away from peripheral senses. The dialog was thus:</div>
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"But how the heavens did it occur and what's the motive (as usual) G?"</div>
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"Probably some sewer device, it can read all the thumbs"</div>
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"Get this analyzed by electro-mayor, ASAPS-prompto."</div>
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"We figured it out"</div>
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"Yeah, we also figured it out. It was really easy, but it took some time."</div>
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Meanwhile: Grape-sauce was his usually mood, looking at and de-siphoning symbols for his briefcase lunch bucket.</div>
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Mondolauu, a bearded structure, waving a tree branch to make things look cool. Senile-ish, umsth he knows his lodgings. The grim-grime, in danger hole, and the wize-erd chimes a chee, safeleth hum frum the graspsps benethe. Tway twimes hee too, a brain indeed.</div>
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Chree thears, Made a pumbbwich. Rando- handmandmandmand. Careth and-bundents. Break a saw, trains trans trands.</div>
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Fizzle was not into that kind of pish madness. He considered himself to be the similar to the ones dabble-dabble, and made metal things from metal. It was cool, man. The iron core would gloweth bright like, when it got hot and stuff. As the smokey steam-smoke (smokesteam) ascended потому што я вобще не знаю почему ты был в американский континент севодня. Swords, trinkets, shields, small trinkets, arrows, daggers, medium-large trinkets, things that looked like grapes, canthrops, yo-yos, and an array of other array-type substances. <br />
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So apparently the color orange is named after the fruit, and not the other way around. Nothing rhymes with it because orange is the worst color for clothes. Also, it's acidic, which is bad for people with re-flux, Lake Muslelf. Though recently, I should blame that lemon drink more, is what it probably was it did to me. Yeah.<br />
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Making this was like popping bubble wrap. It gets kinda stressfull when you're not sure if you missed some of them.</div>
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PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-83481639969434298222015-05-28T22:07:00.002-07:002015-05-28T22:18:43.875-07:0012 signs (continued)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWnm1rid3gaL7uK4CUOISHxFbgIF0JNzCDx80B-qa7yw97p0CQNvkiLJkSDM7uKvLjMLsfTg91LSHHhx2PKyneyWUyyikDgtD49XS1-t_H091s4M52aDe54WEgQBdw6RNh4x1whKbygzXW/s320/catisfish.jpg" width="320" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">6) He smells.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">That isn't to say he's not fun to be around most of the time, or that there is a gross odor which lingers about him. That's not what I'm talking about at all. What I refer to is his ability to smell, as in detecting various aromas via his nostrils. Do you really want to be around a man with such a dangerous capability? Imagine walking around a corner and out of nowhere he says "is that pizza?" You ask him "how can you tell?" And he responds something about how he can "smell" it. That's some messed up crap right there. Sure, it might not seem like a big deal then, but think about all the dark magic he could conjure with such supernatural abilities. He probably interrupted something important you were saying when he referred to his pizza senses anyway, which is totally rude.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">7) He doesn't know what bacon is.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If he ever asks you "what is bacon?" just drop him immediately. No exceptions. Even if he knows what bacon is and he's asking questions like that, it shows his lack of maturity. Such an inquisition may be the start of a joke which I can already tell is not funny, and you don't need a man who isn't hilarious and perfect.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioFmtmL76spWZsi4WMLXVFlKRb2YNVFFmeh5D2mB4j8euPR9g2guMVqAyySNG-ffZjuG5JYJhyphenhyphenwH39FBdwPz3YcmixPQmXekqbiNmyfH3AsK0BY-T6nAEk-k-bynSiQE2vb9c4ptUIqFW0/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioFmtmL76spWZsi4WMLXVFlKRb2YNVFFmeh5D2mB4j8euPR9g2guMVqAyySNG-ffZjuG5JYJhyphenhyphenwH39FBdwPz3YcmixPQmXekqbiNmyfH3AsK0BY-T6nAEk-k-bynSiQE2vb9c4ptUIqFW0/s320/photo+1.JPG" width="239" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">8) Bird stool on his pants.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Or dog stool. Any type of stool, really. If it's on his shirt or shoes, that's not great either. Basically if you're around him and the word "stool" pops into your head, that's a deal breaker. Your subconscious knows more than you ever will, so trust it. Also, if intuition tells you "diaper" or "diapers, diapers," that means his dumb brainwaves are getting all up in your zen. That's an invasion of mental privacy. In fact you should get a restraining order.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">9) He's a jerk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jerks are jerks.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJjffk9IxWxJ4xHNoeD3MYdTlLHuVz3PDJDU36orZSUfDJQKd98XMLO8OPN0Nn2V21_7f2xts2sZdFN-NB6Rdcf88h7db6tAOzZX3cQECcWCE_U4N7Gv8nfAK7dTcKOpeiNycBqnAx5HXn/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJjffk9IxWxJ4xHNoeD3MYdTlLHuVz3PDJDU36orZSUfDJQKd98XMLO8OPN0Nn2V21_7f2xts2sZdFN-NB6Rdcf88h7db6tAOzZX3cQECcWCE_U4N7Gv8nfAK7dTcKOpeiNycBqnAx5HXn/s320/photo+2.JPG" width="239" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">10) He says he loves you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Scientific research shows that males only talk to themselves unless speaking in third person. So if your boyfriend's name is Frodo (guys named Frodo is sign number 17 [not in this list]) and your name is Genevirfathena. If he doesn't explicitly say "Frodo loves Genevirfathena" or "Genevirfathena is beautiful," then he is talking to himself, so usually what he's really meaning to say is "I (Frodo) am beautiful" or "I (Frodo) love me (Frodo)." Saying "your beautiful" could mean anything. He should know better than to send mixed signals like that. Talking in third person is the only solution. But if he's talking in third person a lot, dump him, because talking in third person sounds weird and gets annoying real quick. Silence is best. That means he's listening.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">11) He wears corrective lenses.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strike>For the love of General Stu's chicken, why did I say twelve?</strike> Sure, his spectacles make him look intelligent and sophisticated, but think about it. He's not seeing you for who you really are! He's intentionally warping his perspective about you. And I hate to break it to you, but his crappy eyesight is only going to get worse until he goes blind. You don't want to be around a guy who doesn't literally see you for who you really are on the outside.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">12) This last one is disappointing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">(It always is) If you are ever disappointed for any reason, break up with him, because that means he can't keep you constantly satisfied. While you were reading this, he may have jumped all the hurdles until the point, but just do yourself a favor and tell him it's over right now, because I can tell you're disappointed. He's stupid enough to let you read this article and find out the truth about him and get all bummed out, so just get it over with. You need someone who can keep you happy 24/7. That's the definition of a perfect relationship, anyway.</span></div>
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PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-30375583532655727932015-05-18T12:50:00.003-07:002015-05-18T12:52:30.818-07:0012 signs you should dump your boyfriend right now<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">He saws your legs off in your sleep.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Sure, there might be a reasonable explanation for this, but if he didn’t ask you if he could take a hand-saw to your kneecaps during a snooze, he obviously has communication problems. Plus, he sounds like the kind of person who’d get mad at you for staining his hand-saw because “it’s YOUR knee blood!” Yeah, dump that turd (Also, can you imagine waking up to your boyfriend sawing off your legs and making eye contact in that moment? That’s awkward, and nobody wants to be in an awkward relationship).</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">He writes crappy buzzfeed style articles</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">This guy obviously has no life. Has he ever taken you out for pizza? Will he even watch Netflix with you? No, of course not! He’s too busy laughing at his own jokes writing Onion News fan fiction!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">He is a catfish</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">I don’t mean those online or mobile predators who text you pretending to be someone who doesn't exists, I’m talking about actual catfish. What does that dude have to offer you? All he does is swim around in his own filth until YOU clean up his mess! Does he even have clothes? Next time you see him, really, ask him if he has any clothes. I want to know what crap excuse he comes up with. Trust me, he is NOT a catch (zzzZING!). In all serious, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal own catfish, you salty pirate you.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">(Side note: During my research I found a Wikipedia article on “noodling,” which is a method of fishing for catfish with your bare hands. Interesting read, I recommend it)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">He’s not good looking, rich, OR famous.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Actually, you should really replace that “OR” with “AND” right there, because why settle for anything less than the perfect man, amirite? Keep your standards up. Sheesh, don’t embarrass yourself, girl. You read this far, might as well get the best advice.</span></div>
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He’s good with kids and knows how to cook<br />
Not many know about this one. Girls are naturally attracted to guys who are good with kids, but don’t let your biological instincts deceive you. The reason he is so good with kids is because he is immature, and he always will be. And you don’t want your natural wife-and-mother-type skills to be inferior to his, now, do you?</div>
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PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-38051087670454112012015-02-16T14:50:00.004-08:002015-02-16T14:50:33.569-08:00Santa-man<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Skip to the paragraph that says "Santa-man" for some hardcore adventure stereotypes!!!<br />
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I've been thinking about brickwizards a bit, and I want to take it more seriously. So that might mean writing some drafts before publishing them on this blog. I'm still open to talk about what I have in mind for it if you want to message me or something, or talk to me in person. Whatever.<br />
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It's also pretty obvious that I've been pretty lazy with this resolution here. I'm thinking I could fix that by being accountable to basically everyone I know, instead of a select few. To be more exact, I think it would be a cool idea to write short stories or whatever and dedicate them to specific people I know. Once they start expecting it, I'll be more likely to be writing on a regular basis. I'm more prone to let myself down more than letting others down. I let myself down all the time. It's kind of like when I was in the MTC, and I started making little tongue-and-cheek drawings of "inspirational" animal puns in attempt to help people get through the day. It didn't take long before everyone in the district was demanding a new goofy drawing every minute of every day. I'm hoping the same thing will happen with my writing goal. I hope friends will come up to me on a regular basis and say "when are you going to write me another story?" That 'twould be the best case scenario. <br />
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Anyway, I'm not sure what other plans I have for this blog post specifically. It's just been on my mind the past few days to write something cool. So the following is pretty much on the spot:<br />
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Santa-man sat on his shack bench, staring into the sea, his mind going in and out of a state of philosophical mysteries, to feeling of blankness. Way too much time on his hands, now. It was as if he had done all that he needed to do. Sure, there were some menial chores as usual, like cleaning barn, organizing tools, fixing metal prosthetic limbs. Come to think of it, that was all he had to do. Ever. He could really put it off for as long as he wanted, because after that, there'd be nothing else to do. What's the hurry? There was more than enough time left in the day. Even when he finishes organizing the tools, it's not like he's gonna use them for anything immediate or urgent. He could just use those tools without organizing them anyway! I guess, it was just the principle of being organized, which appealed to Santa-man's thoughts at this time. Although, and this menial thinking was beginning to wear on him. He'd try taking a nap, but that wouldn't do any good. He'd been awake for three hours anyway. Santa-man fumbled with his beard, which he usually did to calm himself down after getting so worked up. If he was more worked up about something worth getting worked-up over, he wouldn't stroke his beard. Not for the purpose of calming himself down, anyway. But this was the kind of working-up that he didn't like, and it was this type of anxiousness which kept him from taking it easy for longer than a few days. He hoped one day a ship would come to shore and somehow give him something to do, as long as he didn't have to work around people. As uncomfortable as he was around himself, it was heaven compared to being surrounded by unfamiliar souls he didn't know. Sure, he could make friends, if friend was the word. But then what if they started relying on him? What if -<br />
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The middle of this thought was interrupted when Santa-man heard the faint sound of tapping across the porch, accompanied with intermittent metallic clanking. <br />
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"What are you doing up at this hour? "asked Santa-man, "Can't sleep?"<br />
The sand crab looked up, far from amused at the bearded man's joke.<br />
"You know you're the reason I don't have friends, right?"<br />
"You're a crab, Klasper, you wouldn't have friends either way."<br />
"Well, I'd have a chance if it weren't for these metal limbs you attached to me" Klasper made pathetic metallic pinching sounds, though to himself they sounded quite intimidating.<br />
"You and I both know you can get rid of those whenever you want," said Santa-man, "It's not like you've lost most of them already, anyway."<br />
"Hey, you know I'm just messing with you," Klasper raised his smaller, iron claw, "I'm lucky to be alive!"<br />
"Yes, Klasper, we've had this conversation before"<br />
"So what's the next big thing for good old Santa-man?"<br />
Santa-man sat silently.<br />
Klasper sighed, "Are you seriously waiting for something to happen again? Why do you always do this to yourself?"<br />
"The universe is big enough to provide something for me. Why do I always have to searching for something?"<br />
"It's not like you never find things to do."<br />
"I always find it. Whatever it is I always find it. It shouldn't be too much to just have something fall on my lap once in a while." Santa-man sighed got up from his chair "Yeah, you're right. I better get going"<br />
"Do you even know where you're going this time?<br />
"I hear there's been some trouble in the Graveline Mountains"<br />
"You're going NOW? Those mountains are in the middle of the Snowy Solstice. Have you ever even been cold before?"<br />
"I'll be fine."<br />
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This may not be the best first impression of Santa-man, but he's a character I'm quite fond of, and I don't think he'd be complaining as much as he is now over something so vague and menial. I was just clawing at anything he and Klasper could talk about. I'll probably fix it later, but thanks for being a part of this writing exercise, whoever you may be.<br />
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PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-48404511641244414172015-01-28T18:22:00.003-08:002015-01-28T18:22:54.687-08:00Brickwizard part III<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This one's gonna be a bit shorter today. I'm still thinking about how I want the Brickwizard story to turn out. I want to get it figured out correctly before I go and make something cannon. I dunno. Maybe I'm worried about it too much. Hopefully you get a kick out of this anyway. </div>
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"Bronze bricks are hexed with a special spell which allows them to grow walls only where you want them to." said Thrimfond Breadsaw. "Like I said before, they are very comparable to organic seeds."<div>
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"But why do you have to plant two of them in order to grow one wall?" asked the Highlord.</div>
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"You only need one brick," explained Breadsaw, "but first you need to split it into two pieces. Then you plant them away from each other, just as long as you want the wall to be. The half bricks each grow separate towers while simultaneously growing downward and outward until the roots on either side connect. This is how the half-bricks establish each other's location, thus becoming one, again. As soon as this connection is established, the wall starts growing in-between the towers."</div>
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"...Give me a minute" said the Highlord, furrowing his brow.</div>
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"I'll draw you a diagram." said Breadsaw.</div>
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Phase One</div>
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Phase Two</div>
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"Ok, yeah that makes sense." said the Highlord</div>
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PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-77022114834120502352015-01-03T17:50:00.002-08:002015-01-03T17:50:52.541-08:00Free write / Steel-Arm<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The frenzy fish of light-gime's phase, twas lift above another's curl. Yetweems, gummerths, the grass, unshroken, but minds were never smart for the amber ways. <br />
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Why do men whither away at the screen of fantastic proportions? Shooting their guns and casting spells? It is because the company is sweeter that the lack thereof. <br />
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If you haven't noticed already, I'm just going off on randomness. Not even sure why I'm pointing it out. It's like <a href="http://xkcd.com/525/">that xkcd post</a> where when you're alone you just randomly say "I know you're listening" in the hopes of freaking out some secret organization. Anyway, here goes some more random stuff. Free write. Whatever randomness comes to me:<br />
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Those grapes, he was riots. But nobody asked if his clues matched his blues. Yet nother carries him home on his back. His burley. A hunched giant through and through the threw woods. Give me a nine iron.<br />
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This is a lot easier to do with a pen, because it's slower. Gives me more time to think. I'm somewhat faster at typing. Though apparently I hit the space-bar with the wrong thumb. A teacher called me out on that in elementary school I believe. I'm still pretty ticked about that. Seriously? The space- is big enough for all my fingers. What difference does it make if I use a different thumb? So stupid. I could throw a bring through a window. I could smash a bottle against a wall. Not really, though, it just sounds funny.<br />
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Here take a leaf of abby abby who dang throme bumb agome drome. Shummy the dang hing the spikes they whirl and bumps.<br />
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This seemed like a good idea at the time, now I'm not so sure. I think I'm realizing I'm just giving myself excuses for not writing something coherent and not wanting to use my brain. I'm not sure if I phrased that the right way, but I'm still not going back to fix it. Even though I'm wrong, I have my rights.<br />
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Alright fine. Here is a story of a bacon that wanted his cheese to grow a beard.<br />
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No that's no good either. I could continue that last story, but I have other stuff bouncing around in my head too. How 'bout this one? Like most of how stories in my head begin, this one starts in the middle.<br />
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What was this? Why was his skin going cold again. The pain was so sharp. Then dull. And then gone. It had been weeks since the bite, and now the infection had spread up to his collar-bone. How long would it be until his whole body was turned to steel? He could still control the infected limb. In fact it was a lot stronger than it had been before. Much, much stronger. But he just couldn't feel with it like he used to, and that's what frightened him. If the infection stopped, maybe he wouldn't mind. Heck, anyone else would be happy to have an unbreakable steel arm. Think of what one could do! He probably would have even felt the same way. But it's different once it happens to yourself. Perception changes. All changes have the bad, along with the good, but spread of this infection widened the lens of his anxiety enough to overshadow any optimism regarding this situation.<br />
<br />
He sat down on a rock, grasping his metallic arm. What dark magic was this? How come nobody knew how to help him? "I should have amputated it when it was still below my elbows." He thought to himself. "I would still have a shoulder at least, and I wouldn't have to worry about this situation anymore." The pain returned with a jolt through his tendons. He clenched his teeth, breathing more heavily. He looked down at his cold, heavy metal hand, almost expecting to see his reflection. He rested his forehead into his metal palm. It was too much for him. It was getting out of control. It would be best to end it all before something bad happened. He slowly started to clamp his metal fingers into his skull.<br />
<br />
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."<br />
<br />
The boy didn't even look around to see who it was. "Well, what else can I do?"<br />
<br />
"Frankly," said the cloaked man walking out from the clearing, "anything other that what you were about to do, is what you can do."<br />
<br />
"But what if I hurt someone?"<br />
<br />
"Are you saying that taking your life - like this - wouldn't hurt them?"<br />
<br />
The boy's eyes began to swell. "Well, at least they'd be safe. At least I wouldn't..."<br />
<br />
"Wouldn't what?"<br />
<br />
The boy wiped his eyes and pushed his teeth against his fist. "At least I wouldn't be able to kill them."<br />
<br />
At this point the boy lost it. He sobbed and made those pathetic groans nobody likes to hear. The man walked over, sat down, and put his arm around the boy.<br />
<br />
"Do you really believe that? Do you really think you're a danger to your loved ones?"<br />
<br />
The boy calmed down just enough to whimper, "I'm scared."<br />
<br />
The old man spoke softly, "Just because something isn't in your control, doesn't mean you can't control yourself."<br />
<br />
"What happens if it spreads to my mind?"<br />
<br />
"How long do you think it will take to reach there?"<br />
<br />
The boy sniffed, "I don't know. A few days. Maybe a week."<br />
<br />
"Well, you have that much time to find a solution." The old man smiled and rustled the boy's hair. "Don't give up, my boy!"<br />
<br />
The boy woke up before he could thank the old man. He opened his shirt to see that the infection had spread past an inch or two past his collar-bone. From the base of his neck and halfway down his torso to the end of his fingertips had become pure steel.<br />
<br />
"Nobody can help me here," he said to himself, "I have to get out."<br />
<br />
********************************<br />
<br />
Sorry that got a little dark there. I'm sure if I thought longer I would have been able to come up with something with a more lighthearted humorous tone, like I usually like to. But I guess it's good to have stuff like that too. Idunno.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-44663822085164507942015-01-02T14:55:00.000-08:002015-01-02T14:55:34.642-08:00The Brickwizard Part II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I understand I made a few spelling and grammatical errors in my last post. I'm not gonna fix them. At least for right now. Without further ado, Brickwizard part two!<br />
<br />
The brick started to glow red as it was fired in the kiln.<br />
<br />
"Is that hot enough?" asked Swinefish Merryweather.<br />
<br />
"Give it a bit longer, Figs" said Breadsaw.<br />
<br />
"I've been a blacksmith longer than our Princeship's father has been dead. That bronze isn't getting any hotter."<br />
<br />
"I've studied brickmastery longer than our Princeship's MOTHER has been dead!" replied Breadsaw, "Believe me, you've never fired this type of bronze before."<br />
<br />
The brick continued to glow red.<br />
<br />
"Wait for it..."<br />
<br />
The brick began to glow blue.<br />
<br />
"Alright, as soon as the blue starts turning green, pull it out."<br />
<br />
After just a few moments, the blue hue faded and Swinefish quickly pulled out the brick with tongs and headed toward the trough. <br />
<br />
"NO!!! STOP!!!" Yelled Breadsaw, "Don't put that in the water trough, Figs, do you want to kill us all?"<br />
<br />
"You better tell me where I should put this thing then, it's starting to melt my favorite tongs."<br />
<br />
"Over there in that open box I placed on the table"<br />
<br />
Swinefish did as he was told.<br />
<br />
"That's a nice looking box. Where did you get it?"<br />
<br />
"I forged it out of discore, using speedwax."<br />
<br />
"Discore?!" Swinefish was baffled, "Where in smells wells did you find discore?"<br />
<br />
"The sailor who traded it to me said he owns a discore deposit in his private a sea-cave mine"<br />
<br />
"Well, what in hade's spades do you need a box made of discore for?"<br />
<br />
"You saw how hot that brick got, didn't you?" Said Breadsaw, "discore is the only mineral that can stabilize such heat without letting it cool down. Not rapidly anyway. That's why we brickmasters call it a lava-box."<br />
<br />
The brick continued to glow green.<br />
<br />
"Come over here, Festelton." said Breadsaw.<br />
<br />
Highlord Grandsir Festelton was standing in the corner, quietly observing the procedure.<br />
<br />
"This is the color you want it to be, "said the Brickmaster, "This shade of green means it is at it's hottest temperature. The lava-box will stabilize it and keep it at this temperature and color for a few weeks. If it goes back to blue, you have to fire it back up to green again. If you let it cool completely, or even cool down to red, it will be rendered useless. That's what we call a 'dead seed.' At that point it will disintegrate before heating back up to blue or green again."<br />
<br />
The Highlord, with his arms folded, carefully leaned over to see the brick glow green in it's majestic cube thrown, and quickly felt the warmth radiating against his face.<br />
<br />
"Quite extraordinary," said the Highlord. He turned to look back at the Brickmaster. "So how do we plant it?"<br />
<br /></div>
PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-58696426557891961532014-12-29T15:20:00.001-08:002014-12-29T15:25:08.671-08:00PK Returns / The Brickwizard<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hello? Anyone there? Nope, looks like I'm alone. Sweet.<br />
<br />
If this is too long, don't read. Skip the next four paragraphs because they are just introductions, and introductions are never needed.<br />
<br />
First of all, it's good to be back in the States. Serving an LDS mission in Russia was awesome. Also, it's good to be blogging, too, I guess. It took me six months after being home to decided to start doing this again, so there's that.<br />
<br />
So since I know nobody reads blogs anymore, unless moms, chefs, or a combination of the two decided to flee Pintrest, so I guess I'm writing here in order to be more, what's the word, responsible? No that's not it. There is something in the brain that happens when you know something and you can't remember it. In order to try to help the memory find whatever it is you want to remember, all the similar things get temporarily blocked, but the thing you actually want to remember gets blocked in the process. That's why when you're at a party and you're talking about movies and someone says, "That one comedian from Elf and The Other Guys. What's his freaking name?" And since everyone wants to be the cool person who knows every reference ever, everyone's brains go into hyperactive blocking, which is why nobody else can remember either. So ironically, the most effective thing to do is to distract yourself so your brain stops blocking those things, and then when it's not blocked anymore it suddenly pops into your head. And even though I distracted myself explaining how this all works, I still for the life of me can't figure out what that freaking word is! It means reporting to someone. Staying...something. Dagnabbit, what's that word?!?!? ACCOUNTABLE!!! That's it. I tried looking in the Preach My Gospel manual, and then I looked up "loyal" in the thesaurus, no joke. Anyway, why I'm here:<br />
<br />
I'm gonna make a new years resolution for 2015 to write something creative everyday. I still haven't figured out any specifics, like how many pages or how many hours a day I write or anything, which is why I'm getting a couple days head start. The reason I'm announcing this to the empty void of the Internet is to keep me more accountable. I don't even think I'll post this on facebook. Whatever random person out there reading this, whether I know you or not, keep me in check, please. I'm not saying I'm gonna be writing a blog post everyday, though it may be healthy, though cumbersome to the poor sucker who actually enjoy my writing. I might use this, or google docs, or a hand and paper writing journal, or whatever to keep up this resolution. But if you don't hear from me, just drop me a comment saying, "Yo, you keeping up on that revolution or are you slacking?" Much twould be 'preciated. <br />
<br />
But since nobody read those first two paragraphs anyway, some of my writing has been in vain. However, I'm still accountable to this empty void of Internet. Any squirrel who found a smartphone in a dumpster could be reading this and now I'm accountable to him, even if he doesn't put me in check. Get the idea? Well, here's a hopefully entertaining story that will just spill out of ice cream truck call my brain:<br />
<br />
"That's preposterous!" said the bearded brick sorcerer (in parentheses commentary: [I subconsciously promised myself I wouldn't do this but oh, well] for some reason I like bearded characters. They're more interesting. Also brick sorcerer sounds more exiting than brick layer. Just imagine him as a brick layer, but cooler, or something), "I can't finish this wall in seventumpth fortnights!" (Seventumpth fortnights is equal to one and one-third human months, I guess)<br />
<br />
"No, I suppose you can't do it alone," said the Highlord Grandsir Festelton, "I suggest hiring a crew to assist in finishing the project. All wages shall be reimbursed through the funds of the kingdom's treasury. I trust it shouldn't prove difficult to find eager civilians looking for quick coin."<br />
<br />
"With a usual wall, yes," Said the brickmaster, "but you hired me to construct a low-entropy, cosmic enchanted, vibe deflecting defense structure! The bricklay patterns alone takes years to master! I can't just teach a handful of street thugs how to mix point eight density space glaze with snow cement and wolf pitch! It took me two and a half years to study in Mudland Brick Appreniceship before I was even authorized to touch a mage-mason spade! And you expect me to let these can't-reads handle any of this hardware? That's like letting a horse sit in the His Princeship's throne!"<br />
<br />
"I understand your concern, Mr. Breadsaw," Said the Highlord, "but the Kingdom is in danger. We have no choice. We can help supply as many people you require, even soldiers, if we have to."<br />
<br />
"'How many' isn't the problem. It's 'who,'" said Thrimfond Breadsaw, "I know three of the best brickwarlocks I know. One of which was my teacher, the rest were my pupils. If they were here, we could have the whole wall built before the enemy army assembles their giants"<br />
<br />
"I'll have His Princeship order the Royal Scouts to send for the brickwizards immediately. Where do they reside?"<br />
<br />
"You can't expect to find them on your own. I'd have to come with them." Said the brickmaster.<br />
<br />
"We can afford your leaving the kingdom," the Highlord said, strictly, "you must stay here and keep building this wall." <br />
<br />
"Listen, you royal fancypants," said Thrimfond, pointing his finger, "Even if you do find them, they won't help without the spoken testimonial of a fellow brickwizard. Even then, it'll be hard to convince them to join the cause."<br />
<br />
"What if there is a preemptive attack? This wall is only a fourth of the way complete."<br />
<br />
"Have your basic bricklayers build some temporary walls until I get back. The fortification bricks at my shop are at their disposal, any other materials that are enchanted they will need training for. Also, I have hidden 5 enchanted bronze brickstones of natural defense, specifically designed and created for this type of thing. They are very high-entropy and deteriorate over a just few days, so only use them in emergencies."<br />
<br />
"How do they work?" asked Highlord Festelton.<br />
<br />
"They're basically like seeds," explained the brickmaster, "only instead of growing a tree, it grows a wall. You'll need a kiln to get it hot enough to split and plant. Once the brickpower starts taking effect, the ores from the ground flow up, thus creating a trenches on either side in the process. The wall is made of whatever material is underneath it, so planting it over stone is a lot more effective than on soil or sand. Which reminds me, NEVER plant any of the bronze bricks in water sources. Do you understand? Not the ocean, lake, river, not even a mildly damp swamp."<br />
<br />
"Why not?" asked the Highlord<br />
<br />
Memories of storms and floods bolted into the brickmaster's mind.<br />
<br />
"Just don't do it, alright man?"<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-23062365666450246902012-04-23T13:38:00.001-07:002012-04-23T13:40:16.069-07:00Ignore Post...(or don't)I tried posting sharing the video on facebook but facebook was being a stupid brat. So I guess I just hafta do this.<br /><br /><iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/nBuP0jfeWvo?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-7500950918004067922012-03-16T12:44:00.002-07:002012-03-16T13:24:46.460-07:00OkayokayokayYeah sorry it's been a while. Kinda busy being awesome, but not awesome enough. Or. Ahh, ok.<br /><br /><br />This is a little something I've been working on. You should watch the whole thing since you probably have nothing better to do. JUSTKIDDINGSORRYIDIDNTMEANIT!!! Seriously though.<br /><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/53jOjGACzMQ?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />Also on PKplace's fb page got some pretty awesome props for getting <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pkplace#!/photo.php?fbid=252021538211940&set=a.251359521611475.62031.143167892430639&type=1&theater">this picture</a> featured on <a href="http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.346989231978999.92425.346950715316184&type=3#!/photo.php?fbid=385261208151801&set=a.346989231978999.92425.346950715316184&type=3&theater">*very clean* funny pics.</a> Sooo, yeah, I'm pretty happy with that.<br /><br />Also, if you check the fb page, I did a "rickroll" essay. It's hard to explain, you'll just have to see for yourself.PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-37176250404277255062012-02-27T18:32:00.003-08:002012-02-27T18:51:20.224-08:00Sorry 'bout thatYeah, didn't have a chance to update this here weblog over the weekend. But here I am!<br /><br /><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/TDL9zOqDV9E?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />(got 100 views overnight, btw. werd.)<br /><br />So I basically met my new hero on Thursday. Every week a different artist comes and talks about whatever. And the man in this video, Tyrone Davies, came to talk.<br /><br />(spoiler alert: he pukes)<br /><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/5zOevLN3Tic?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />I'm a pretty big fan of viral videos, and this was already a favorite of mine, even before he came to talk, so you can imagine how excited I was when he revealed that HE WAS THAT GUY WHO PUKED!!! (He was even on an episode of Tosh.0 about it[Season 1 Episode 2, to be exact]) Turns out he did it on purpose as kind of a practical joke, BUT NOBODY KNOWS!!! I feel special because I know exclusive info about this viral video. It makes an awesome conversation topic.<br /><br />Aside from his internet fame, Tyrone Davies is actually a really cool experimental film maker. <a href="http://vimeo.com/14487622">He's made some pretty awesome stuff.</a>PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-76578975578021335892012-02-20T19:23:00.001-08:002012-02-20T19:24:47.909-08:00Facebook OfficialSorry, no new video this week. <br /><br />But now I made a facebook page where I post meme's and stuff, so check that out why don't you I guess...<br /><br />http://www.facebook.com/pkplacePKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-81046605630052908912012-02-10T17:49:00.000-08:002012-02-10T18:14:30.328-08:00Frog & ArtDon't worry, this is still a video blog. I'm just going to post a little project that took me FIVE HOURS to make today, and I thought I'd share it.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpBHf525JWKbXAvOfgcpCJgR2smqsaOPKWRWl_lOUnZnyOrmMkLeCVAGTJo-U_hCJtvuyNwH4YqbefnIcauxXILaV7NksedrF3rIzAHeDGvIuIpbNHGbukycX7VeQzLPiTooM1ol4SSQC2/s1600/Photo184+%25281%2529.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpBHf525JWKbXAvOfgcpCJgR2smqsaOPKWRWl_lOUnZnyOrmMkLeCVAGTJo-U_hCJtvuyNwH4YqbefnIcauxXILaV7NksedrF3rIzAHeDGvIuIpbNHGbukycX7VeQzLPiTooM1ol4SSQC2/s400/Photo184+%25281%2529.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707690793682732706" /></a><br /><br />And now a video I made for "experimental video" class. It's bases off the most famous Haiku in the world. Don't bother counting the syllables because it is a basic translation. The original is in Japanese.<br /><br />The quality aint that great, but whateva.<br /><br /><iframe width="450" height="259" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1DiGm7xtODg?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />In other news, my "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/pkplaceDOTblogspot?feature=mhee#p/u/6/wK3vc31wHbE">How to MAKE a lava lamp</a>" has more than 10,000 views!!! hahahahaahahahhaaahahaaaaahahahahahahahhahhahahaahahahhahahhaahahahahahhaah!PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6871420954827763189.post-50477279816604889212012-02-04T16:17:00.000-08:002012-02-04T17:30:06.793-08:00How to TROLLAs some of you know, a few years ago, I made a youtube channel. Back then I was kinda afraid of the internets, especially youtube. There's a lot of mean people out there who comment mean things, and I had seen a lot annoying people just asking for it on youtube. So I tried really hard to have absolutely NO PERSONALITY when making this video here. That way I wouldn't be one of those annoying people who get yelled at by haters. Makes sense right?<br /><br /><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ZVaKydxQohY?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />As further examination of this video, you can see that because I am hiding my true personality so well, I come off as kind of a "too-cool-for-school-poser." And because of that, many hateful comments were received. Don't worry, I'm a big boy, I can handle it. I understand why people would say that, cause that video was horrible. In fact, all those comments made me laugh pretty hard. Comments like:<br /><br />"woa 1970s called they want the glasses back."<br /><br />"more gheto says the kid in aviators wit his kollar popped"<br /><br />"thanks dale gribble"<br /><br />and my personal favorite:<br /><br />"uhhhhhhh tubuluuuuuurhhhh man....lol...pass d blunt cuzn'"<br /><br /><br />These are just the comments that don't have swear words or other derogatory terms. Because I try to keep this blog pretty clean, I won't show those ones. If you really want to know what the other ones say, you can watch the video on the youtube site and scroll down.<br /><br />I guess it's the fact that I get a kick out of these hilariously hateful comments is what makes me somewhat of a troll, even though that really wasn't my intention to begin with. (for more information on what "trolling" is, here's a link to a post I did a while back <a href="http://pkplace.blogspot.com/2011/04/parking-lot-justice-trolling.html">TROLL LINK</a>)<br /><br />So far that video has 6,233 views, 22 likes, as 17 dislikes.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">BUT</span> here's a video I made that people hate even more!<br /><br /><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/wK3vc31wHbE?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />With this one, I guess I kinda was asking for it. I was trying to be funny, and my friends got the joke, but when other people are searching high and low for anything specific, and they think they found it, but they don't...yeah, it's understandable why people have sarcastic comments like:<br /><br />"Oh, this is awesome! Thanks man! I've been looking everywhere for a good tutorial because I've ALWAYS wanted a lava lamp, and who wants to buy one? But this is great, I'm gonna do this as soon as I can find myself a water bottle..."<br /><br />However, because there is no font for sarcasm, I will never know if this person was genuinely thankful for the tutorial.<br /><br />I feel like my sarcasm is so advanced that people think I'm actually stupid, or don't appreciate the humor. People who say stuff like:<br /><br />"Do you know what a lava lamp is?"<br /><br />"Step one: take a water bottle step 2: take your cellular device step 3: act like an idiot"<br /><br />and the top rated comment, off the charts with "3 thumbs up":<br /><br />"You what that "show" is... A water bottle in the freaking dark... What the heck are you"<br /><br />Aren't these comments hilarious? Sure they're hateful, but you gotta appreciate some of the cleverness of the feedback(I'm being a little sarcastic there, I can't help but think a lot of these people are idiots, but that's probably why I get a kick outta them).<br /><br />But I must admit it's good to know that there are some people who appreciate my genius:<br /><br />"hahaahhaah that made me proper laugh hahahha"<br />(this one looks suspiciously sarcastic to me, though)<br /><br />"Lol nice that's show was freakin amazing"<br /><br />"NICE!!!!!"<br /><br />"LOL is all i can say!"<br /><br /><br />The butterfly knife tutorial used to have more views, but recently the lava lamp video has reached up to 9,113 views, 7 likes, and 56 dislikes. I'm laughing right now just typing it!<br /><br />So, without further a-dooby-doo, my newest anger-inducing somewhat viral video. Zero views, zero likes, zero dislikes. Fresh and ready to be ridiculed by the less intelligent.<br /><br /><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ApytCN00dNw?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />I'm not sure how many views this is gonna get or whatever, but I'm guessing that of the first three comments will have the word "drunk" or "stoned." And they'll probably ridicule the fact that I was using a Sharpie, NOT a ballpoint pen. I hope one of them ask, "Y U SO DUM?" THAT would be funny.PKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13132025465943323560noreply@blogger.com0