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coffeecakes |
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Thursday, March 6, 2008 at 10:39 PM My pain
My gain
My chain
My rain My name
The same
The same
The Same Up is down
Down is up
Left is right
Right is.... now My pain
My fame
My shame
My.... Pain —coffeecakes |
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Dusty TheHick |
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Thursday, March 6, 2008 at 10:50 PM I would like Nathaniel to find coffeecakes, and punch him in the testes. —Dusty TheHick |
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whoisnumbaone |
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Thursday, March 6, 2008 at 10:58 PM
Edited Thursday, March 6, 2008 at 10:59 PM well wtf is up with that gay ass post?!?!?! How was that going to impress anyone?
is that a poem?
—whoisnumbaone |
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anfernee |
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Thursday, March 6, 2008 at 11:03 PM Yes it's a poem, a beautiful, soulful, and meaningful poem. It's words are like raindrops on my toes. Wet in a literal sense, but dry in a proverbial sense. It was like a butterfly's wings, colorful when open, but invisible when closed. The words were like a fast car, fast on the roads, but slow in the air. Like a Compact Disc, shiny on one side, but slightly less shiny on the other. Life's differences, that's what it's about. Learn to appreciate true ART whoisnumbaone.. —anfernee |
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whoisnumbaone |
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Thursday, March 6, 2008 at 11:07 PM Life seems vain.
You're in pain.
Want to open veins.
Get run over by a train.
Blow your brains.
Don't think I don't know it.
I get it.
I've been there before.
Sometimes life's a bitch.
This is how I got out of it.
I told myself
'They won't get me,
F-U-C-K IT! '
—whoisnumbaone |
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mandee |
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Thursday, March 6, 2008 at 11:09 PM coffeecakes, i'm in tears right now. i feel like you totally get me. —mandee |
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John Lennon |
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Thursday, March 6, 2008 at 11:27 PM That poem was deep...man. Now here's another one: Login to TLC today and it's become The Drake LULZ Companion again
Who's bumping my old threads?
What the fuck?
I read them and I was like
"Who the fuck is this guy?"
I was really lonely and obnoxious and self-absorbed.
I'm sorry. —John Lennon |
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acm323 |
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Thursday, March 6, 2008 at 11:35 PM Coffecakes, you should write a poem about working at Pizza Hut and trying to survive in a cruel world where your mother only gives you 300 dollars a month to survive on. —acm323 |
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ZT Spice |
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Thursday, March 6, 2008 at 11:36 PM I was really lonely and obnoxious and self-absorbed. I'm sorry. —John Lennon I am, in all seriousness, impressed with this. I forgive you, I always thought you'd come around sooner or later. —ZT Spice |
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mandee |
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Thursday, March 6, 2008 at 11:44 PM zt, get out. out now. —mandee |
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plurry |
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Thursday, March 6, 2008 at 11:52 PM some things never change. —plurry |
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coffeecakes |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 12:04 AM mandee, that means a lot to me thank you. Can I im you sometime? —coffeecakes |
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mandee |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 12:17 AM yeah IM me. my screen name is misstiffanyfish. —mandee |
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ucrchik21 |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 1:33 AM
Edited Friday, March 7, 2008 at 1:35 AM Love is Pain... An inevitable feeling embraced without any impeding.
A mystery with no distinct answer.
An uncontrollable desire, to touch, to hold, to understand.
And despite one's adversities, on still cannot deny Her.
Tis' Love that i speak of, Her sweet addictive aroma,
will enter your nostrils, and at Her own will,
She will touch your heart and empower your soul.
Beware for She is a wicked spell that will blind you.
As sly as a fox, She will steal your life,
and as fierce as a lion, She will devour it too.
Oh, Love, thou art so stunning, But your look is so deceiving.
Love, if thou have any sympathy,
Free me from these chains, in which you hold me your prisoner.
As fast as a bullet, She raced through my soul.
And I felt as She let go and escaped through my every pore.
At that instant I felt so free, yet so incomplete.
That feeling that I cant go on, was no more.
I felt a stranger to the sound of my own heart beating.
Oh, how i longed to feel Love's pain once more.
So that I might beat with all the familiar feelings,
that once brought existance to my ill-fated heart. - i hope you all enjoy my poem - —ucrchik21 |
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mandee |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 2:35 AM ^ funnier because i think she was being serious —mandee |
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mandee |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 2:50 AM oh yeah, She loves that shit. Oh, Love, thou art so stunning, But your look is so deceiving. so true. thou art. thou so art. —mandee |
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ucrchik21 |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 3:02 AM ok guys, now you are seriously just being immature. —ucrchik21 |
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ucrchik21 |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 3:08 AM but quite frankly i could care less, - talk about ignorance, ive had just about enough from you two. Have fun in your forum. —ucrchik21 |
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plurry |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 3:13 AM you're such a bore
and come off a whore
"whatever" will become of you you're daft and vapid
and sour rapid
no, you will never do you've gone to school
but still a fool
some things you'll never learn flash in the pan
with a fake tan
i hope in hell you burn forget your looks
and prosaic hooks
you are more of the same in ways you're blind
emotionally behind
daddy is to blame he was away
no attention paid
but you can compensate with who you choose
you're bound to lose
you're worth a masturbate time to please
logged on your knees
it brings complacency you're just a cunt
and the sign out front
is claiming "vacancy" to put it simply
you're quite empty
but no one like you notice it surround with them
you're all condemned
to a world of glorified shit —plurry |
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ucrchik21 |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 3:20 AM lol - as oddly as it may sound, i actually like your poem, its actually pretty good. keep writing. —ucrchik21 |
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plurry |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 3:25 AM
Edited Friday, March 7, 2008 at 3:26 AM "you're so vain, you probably think the song is about you." ; ) —plurry |
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ucrchik21 |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 3:33 AM Learning After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul.
you learn that company doesnt always mean security,
and you begin to learn that kisses arent contracts and presents arent promises.
In due time you will begin to also accept your defeats with your head held up high, and your eyes straight ahead,
with the grace of an adult and not the grief of a child.
You learn to build your roads on Today because Tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans,
and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
Through every hardship and through every obstacle that you encounter
you learn that you Can endure, and that you really are strong, and you begin to distinguish
your true self-worth. —ucrchik21 |
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ucrchik21 |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 3:39 AM no actually i am not vain, nor did i imply that i thought it was about myself. i simply stated that your poem was a good piece of work. Is it really that hard to take a compliment? I said it was odd, coming from myself, because you all talk so much "shit" about me, that my complimenting you may seem out of the ordinary. But on another note, indeed your ability to write is quite fascinating. —ucrchik21 |
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bguirk |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 5:18 AM
Edited Friday, March 7, 2008 at 5:27 AM I thought coffeecakes made his dramatic exit. Indian leaver. edit: ucrchik21--your only hope is to post more pics. —bguirk |
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ucrchik21 |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 5:40 AM how about i take down all my pics, i start a new profile, and i call myself " I-vajart-in-public " , do you suppose i would receive positive feedback then? —ucrchik21 |
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TortillaFactory |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 5:40 AM ok guys, now you are seriously just being immature. yeah, writing flowery poems about Love is so much better. —TortillaFactory |
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ucrchik21 |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 5:49 AM first of all they are not flowery poems about love.... maybe you should learn how to read in between the lines. Actually im not going to even bother with you, i already know what type of remarks and criticisms you will come up with, your so predictable. —ucrchik21 |
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bguirk |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 5:51 AM ucrchik21--you have the bguirk stamp of approval, but that gets you nowhere around here. Less talky, more pics. —bguirk |
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pookie |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 7:11 AM isn't a vadgart really called a queef? —pookie |
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bguirk |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 7:54 AM i think TF was doing a little creative verbal free-lancing. I guess if it doesn't involve sentence structure it's OK in her book. —bguirk |
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whoisnumbaone |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 9:18 AM i call myself " I-vajart-in-public " , do you suppose i would receive positive feedback then? -ucrchik21 LMFAO... oh shit that was a good one! —whoisnumbaone |
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airking32 |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 9:23 AM ucrchik is like adam. she's in love with the notion of being in love. —airking32 |
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whoisnumbaone |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 9:24 AM
Edited Friday, March 7, 2008 at 9:24 AM ^ Ive told her that a million times. That poem is golden proof.
whats up with ur phone btw?
—whoisnumbaone |
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mandee |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 9:25 AM she's also bad at poetry. —mandee |
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MajandraFan |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 9:44 AM The Collation. dedicated to the memory of Yukie Nakama.
======================================================
Burnt petals, cool water My thoughts are just like petals that have been burnt into black fragile ash and crumble from contact, get muddy in cool water.
======================================================
4 Love you.
Impossible to say.
Much numbness so I don't feel it either but the numbness lets me think about it
Somewhat, without breaking out in hot prickles
I hate those hot prickles, they make me feel alive
ashamed, lonely, retarded
Not good enough, not at all
Almost so bad that I begin to feel there is something wrong with you for me being besotted with you.
How else could someone as me, wretched, want you... if you were not broken?
Broken thoughts, they change again
You're perfect!
Past my fingertips like lightning either way
Crushed in bed again, away, away!
Squashed organs,
burning alone with cold fever
Alone, tired, sleeping, passed out, unwell
Never sleep enough alone for too much sleeping alone
Black sleep, painful sleep
Unresting sleep, no sleep
Never get enough rest
Never get out of here
Never get in to her
Oh my god, oh my god
I want to rest, rest with ease, with her, relax around her
Can't even think it, won't even dream it
Beautiful black sleep, so painful
Panic all through the drifting dreams
When I will dream the failed tomorrow before it implodes around me
All I can do is give up in the face of having given up
No amount of screaming makes you heard by me
I'd be terrified if you turned towards me anyway, i would
Fuck, come to me
Put me to sleep
Let me rest
Take my dreams from me
Take my dreams away
Draw my fear from me for a little while
Let my fever mean something, warm someone
Please, I'm getting towards passing out again
I can't deal with another night alone
I don't want to be alone another night
Christ don't leave me alone with myself again
I have to go.
======================================================
Dead eyes Feelings yellow
Memory glimmers out
Wow, you sure disintegrated fast
I can't believe you're so disgusting
Um, you're pretty powerless, dude
Shut the fuck up
I can't keep on When my dreams are like a sick joke
I don't see the point of keeping on
Hearing and and and almost hearing others talk about love
Do you love me you said you loved me I love you why don't you love me
No I'm alone always
why am i like this
why am i like this
my feelings mean nothing I watch Lacey Mosley tour her tour bus. I don't know her.
My chest aches and stabs. I don't know heart attacks, or death.
I'm not even as good looking as Marlon Brando was 50 years ago. I can't fly. I haven't evolved.
My vague pain is all that remembers being real, or something. I can't fly.
I can't get out into her space.
Like I'm genetically and metaphysically unforgiveable, not even to the degree that I get to remember my awful sin. What was it?
Why am I like this?
Stop hurting chest. Stop dreaming, the rest of me. You can't touch. You wouldn't dare if she was right here (change out she for eternity), not even with your voice.
Maybe with your eyes, panicked butterfly.
Silly little thing.
Feared of everything or whatever.
Fuck.
Oh god. I hate everything. Or whatever.
Can't see properly. Wishing I wasn't cold, I shiver huddled on the couch.
======================================================
Fully saved She's mad. It's awesome.
Oh my god, you're fully saved. I... love that.
[For Christ's sake, it's only hair, I haven't changed.]
Shave. your. vadge.
Wash your vock down by the rocks.
My oh my eyes won't allow me to continue.
Rubbish. Yuck.
======================================================
Un-tattooed I can't feel the rain but I feel the air. Cold, not really wind, pure refreshment.
It's not enough, so I write.
Every time I feel beautiful I feel lonely. I'm not talking about pretty/handsome at all. I mean contented or awesome or thrilled or truly relaxed. Just as the lack of misery sets in, I'm able to see how alone I am, with such painful clarity that maybe it's a mirage after all.
Thank god for the rain. I'm free to be mad out there. No-one stays around to watch. I let the rain soak me and it doesn't matter if I cry or scream or fall. I can feel like dying, it's so cool.
Raining again. It taps down, like it always has. The street is wet, and the park. The birds are playing, the trees are hazy, and the mountains are hidden in the grey sky. I love it.
Breathing lonely.
======================================================
Horrible colour We have photos of our lives, scattered around our homes.
Like we're leaving a trail to follow, markers through time.
But no-one's going to follow. She's dead. She's dead now too. The photos will disintegrate with time. None of us look like that anymore.
I don't understand the point of photos.
======================================================
More numbness than I can bear to think about Call the curses
I wait without care for her because I desperately need her
Unless she shows up first
But no, I want her more now
More? Only
Is that true?
The guilt-free fear-laden alternative is a few frames of emerging smile synched with an outbreath of horrible smoke
Don't even know that one's name
28 now ... no girlfriend ... no prospect of girlfriend ... my god why am i so broken
My head is filled with the mush of beyond-count crushes and dreams and fantasies with no recording of a held hand or a kissed cheek (two actually, acutely, but only in friendship for her) or brushed lips or wanton words or cheeky smile (some, i think, i don't know!!! no) just nothing just nothing just nothing, ouch
The beginning-of-tears face. The tears won't come, just like the love won't come. What do I do?
======================================================
My latest truth Tonight I saw a girl whom I met twice once upon a time and thought I might never see again.
Tonight is Wednesday. It is becoming the 14th of February, 2008. I turned 28 on January 20.
When I was 26 and it was August, possibly a Friday, the 18th, I met her. Her name was Sam. She was average short, with neck long brown hair. She wore Lisa Loeb glasses, had plump lips, snub nose, pale skin and a sexy broken daydreamy stoner voice.
She chatted amicably with me on and off over the evening and when she left the party I happened to be outside going back in. She recognised me in the dark and said something about Canberra being a small city so we'll probably see each other again soon. She seemed to be waiting for me to offer something but I'm not sure. As a friend or a lover, not sure either. I didn't offer anything.
Almost precisely a month later I went to another party at the same place, hoping to see her again. I did. She remembered me and my name, even though her blonde dancer friend didn't, even though she was so drunk already that she passed out on a couch shortly after, and was led out zombie-catatonic a while after that. Apparently she was going to Chile for three months and no, she didn't speak Spanish.
Of the handful of girls I have a lingering crush on, she was, um, one of them, and one of only two single and healthy options.
I was in Civic to see Chanel Cole. Chanel is a gut-punch-hyper-unrealistic crush. Never even seen past her public persona. While Chanel Cole was still doing her sound check Sam walked by and sat at the plastic white table in front of me, on a plastic white chair. She was with a dumpy ugly/plain-faced woman with pixie/dyke brown hair and possibly enough wrinkles for a 35 year old. If she was gay, then was Sam her girlfriend or just a friend? Sam looked taller than I remember, and her nose a little less anime snub, but no less gorgeous.
I didn't look at her much. Chanel was playing at "The Fringe Festival" or whatever, so Sam doesn't necessarily give a shit about her. Towards the end of Chanel's 6 song set, or perhaps right after, can't remember, Sam finally turned around and looked right in my direction. I don't know if she saw me, recognized me, or cared for a flickering moment about such.
I do know that no-one else who saw her that night got so depressed about their metaphysical impotence and burned so much for her and is writing this shit at the end of the night, kissing the pre-dawn.
But what the fuck does that matter.
======================================================
Ocean Ocean What do you do when everything in life is a Rorschach test? Not just art or blobs of ink, but everything.
I saw a televangelist I had never seen before on Channel 9 late last night, around 4am. He was old, country USA accent, talking about the dangers of a nuclear Iran.
Now I'm thinking that it's not a problem if Iran has nuclear weapons because it's just a guarantor against invasion, a buffeting of national sovereignty. No-one would be monstrous enough to actually use a nuclear weapon on their fellow humans.
But this old man knows better, and doesn't see all humans as humans.
Televangelism? How can such a thing be?
Several centuries ago when the science required to make televisions work was in its infancy, religious folk were dead against it. Science, ideas, facts. Now that they are proven wrong by television working, they use it to preach religion. Ridiculous.
Further back, people tried to make books, by whatever ancient means people made paper. Or further back, they made writing, they created language. All science. Therefore, when you think about it, the bible and such things are as silly as televangelism.
Every step of the way, to this very day, religion is a hindrance. Yet every time a new milestone is achieved, the religious jump up onto it, given a hand by the merciful of science, and start anew trying to tear their generous brethren down as they labour on to the next discovery.
Witness churches filled with electric lights, or even candles. Congregations wear watches, and synthetic fibres. They shave with razors and perfume themselves.
We fly above the clouds in aeroplanes so the religious say, what... heaven is in space? Or another dimension? Both scientific concepts!
The negativity associated with religious philosophy is nonetheless from the individual. I was brought up in a religion and always saw a positive interpretation of everything. Was it only that I was blessed with priests from the Missionary of the Sacred Heart order? There may have been small-minded mean people in the church, but as a child I didn't dream of such things behind peoples eyes.
The Passion of the Christ filled us all with shame on Easter. No-one hated the Jews. If anything, the Romans were the villians, but only ourselves were blamed. A sick message perhaps. Not a violent message.
No fear of hell, no hatred or even mention of gay people. Readings from deaf people with their funny voices. Congregation speckled with other-ethnicities just like my school.
All of the stereotypes I can think of to do with Christians were absent from my childhood.
I got so tired of pretending God was real. I see the news, unfortunately, briefly, and it is comical. I wonder how anyone could be naive to take the show seriously without being told to, and even then only children could really embrace it. Again, I see what I want to see. When I hear messages about foreigners being violent, I think of how afraid the receptive audience must be. When they talk about leaders of the state (which is only less than absurd from within the fabric of a culture I'm struggling to remember more and more each day; leader? of who, and what, and why? what is this state? a state of madness?) I notice the vacuous eyes and voice of the bucolic newsreaders. At every point I realize my interpretation of these events are different. Different to the sublime dismissive past reaction when I was a kid (boring, real, adult things); different to anyone who takes the show seriously enough to support the advertisers (are there such people?); different in that I can imagine and am aware of other reactions and interpretations in parallel to my own. Parallel, for they never touch the logicality and truth of mine, yet mine embraces and binds all others to itself, for it is an eternal outlook. Until I change the channel.
When I read the newspapers it is even more obvious that every article is an advertisement. Every single story and photograph is asking for my time, money, or both, just as surely as the official advertisements placed around them are. Buy this, watch that, work for this, vote for that, hope for that, want that, love them. Fuck off! I don't want any of it and I don't trust strangers. People who do trust strangers are as those who love strangers, truly people incapable of love or trust, for they know nothing of either to splash such precious water in the miserable pleasure desert we all make our lives through once we leave the luscious garden surrounding our parents' genitals. It normally takes a decade to reach the edges of the garden, where the sand and the sun encroach upon the rainforest jungle goodness.
Yet I understand why they do it. Loneliness can drive a person mad within 181 days. It takes two days of peace to recover from 1 day of being mad from loneliness. Therefore it takes 362 days to recover from being lonely-mad if one immediately finds love and trust the day of the maddening. It can seem better to give all your water to a phantom by your side than trudge on forever by yourself. I live in such a quiet street. Yet the noise of all the foul ideas of my fellow humans is a nightmare version of the traffic I heard at night in my grandma's old house, so calming. I can't afford to move somewhere away from the noise.
Valentine's Day just passed. I didn't encounter much media on it this year but for a dozen and more past I hear and read the same moronic diatribes for and against. Not ever do I hear a genuine point against it (must be against, cuz it is bad). But how could I expect so, when the people criticizing are for marriage, itself the target of the same nonsense arguments?
The general flow is thus: the people against Valentine's Day and/or marriage are unhappy in their relationship or don't have a lover at all, and are bitter, resigned, jealous and afraid in varying doses of the happy else people, those being the ones celebrating Valentine's, getting married some day in the future, or later today, or in the past.
"Valentine's Day is a corporate bullshit holiday created by greetings card companies."
"Marriage is against our natural drives to be with lots of different people."
"Don't be depressed this Valentine's Day, do (whatever)..."
"Women want to get married, men agree to get married because (whatever)..."
On and on.
But really, both ideas are for people who can't be bothered. Months or maybe a whole year have gone by with nothing special done for your lover except maybe a birthday celebration? Valentine's Day.
Love on the up and up but you're afraid of the inevitable crumble you've experience before? Are you at the crumble point now? Are you feeling too old to keep trying for a relationship that won't fall apart? Don't want to be bothered with keeping the relationship alive? Marriage.
The ideas about conspiracy and a united holiday are silly and irrelevant. Why not give a card when you want to show love? If people did that all year around then the sales for greetings cards would be healthy. Why do it the same day as everyone else?
So those for Valentine's Day should be against it. Why be depressed that you are alone that day? Be depressed the rest of the year, and that day.
The arguments equating marriage with monogamy are equally retarded. At what point does wanting to be with one someone equal a ceremony, whether state house or church house, big party or small, with promises of eternal and a party? Parties can come anyway. Promises are nothing but an invitation for people to see how afraid the couple are, of the future and of each other. And tying your love affair to either the sanctity of a religion or a state is despicable and sad and comical.
Want to be with your lover? Be with them. No-one can genuinely be for marriage.
How nihilistic people are who indulge in such things! Is there anything floating on the air of human voices that is worthy of my time?
Or to put it less pretentiously, is there anything in that air that I can bear?
I have no religion, no philosophy, no state, no dream to be married.
Coincidentally I have no lover, I'm sure. But I won't embrace any of those ridiculous things. I don't care.
And the ridiculous petty things I do indulge in will be hated by me at all times, in full awareness.
Fuck off everyone.
======================================================
Write until your heart explodes Write until your heart implodes. My heart is full of fear. It is the new year. Not the chinese, not the european; beyond those, at the end of february, when you can no longer taste what was on your lips at 00:00 1st January, when your blood can no longer feel what it was like to burn with your december adventures, it is truly the next year, the new year, the now year, the undeniable present.
(This is probably not something sane people think about.)
Invariably I am in the hailstorm, remembering all the things I have in disintegration. The betwixtlet of tiny joy drops splashed upon me are too being evaporated into miserable steam. Why? Why, I don't know. Why can I never keep going, ever fly on? The peace of sleep is beyond the mire.
======================================================
Is she?
I feel fear in my heart and I smell lollies from the fete
Pulsing through the shadows of the afternoon
All the unawareness radiating through painful thought, visions, stirring feelings
So pointless, fuck so pointless
Heaving chest, vapour tears, drifting lonely through the afternoon
Hugging my knees in the evening
Screaming hoarse past midnight
Catatonic unconscious in the deep night, too exhausted not to sleep
Haunted by this forever
Forever, yes! The never forever, remaining bitter and clever
All by myself
All by myself, fuck
====================================================== —MajandraFan |
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bguirk |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 9:46 AM I hate reading poetry, but I love seeing it performed. —bguirk |
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Beat It! |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 11:33 AM
Edited Friday, March 7, 2008 at 11:50 AM Man the catfighting is getting brutal in these parts. The only solution is a jello cage match with ucrchik, mandee and TIFF. In all honesty, all the poetry in this thread is on an equal level. Interpret that however you want. —Beat It! |
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TortillaFactory |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 4:11 PM granted, poetry is very subjective. there are few poems in the world that everyone can agree are "great." also bear in mind that I never criticized anything about the poem except one single word that I thought was funny. that said, it reminds me of something I would have written when I was 14. Take that as you will. —TortillaFactory |
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TortillaFactory |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 4:12 PM ps; regarding vajarts, the word was invented by a loveline caller. jesus. is anyone around here actually a fan of the show anymore, or have we all moved on to Kevin and Bean or something? —TortillaFactory |
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pookie |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 4:14 PM i only started listening to teh lovelines about a year before adam left and only once since. i've never heard vajarts, but i heard of queefing thru stern years ago. —pookie |
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bguirk |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 4:15 PM I'm still a fan, but I guess I'd rather listen to a TACS or a solo drew most of the time these days. —bguirk |
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mandee |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 4:21 PM i only listen to episodes of Just a Minute from the 80s. —mandee |
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Beat It! |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 5:54 PM I'd rather listen to a TACS or a solo drew most of the time these days. — bguirk I think I'm going listen with one headphone tuned to TACS and one to Loveline and pretend it's the same show. It will be Adam ranting while Drew soldiers on and tries to help callers, almost like the real thing. —Beat It! |
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bguirk |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 8:39 PM I go through phases where all I listen to is old Loveline. It usually starts when I DL a bunch of shows. I have about 9-10 in the hopper at the moment so the pressure is building. The trip I took last week was the first time I haven't listened to a classic Loveline during all the flying I had to do. I actually listened to 2 TACS's, 2 DDL's (Dr. Drew Live), and a Stryker era Loveline. I also drugged myself in a a sleepy stupor so it almost doesn't matter what I listen to at that point. —bguirk |
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acm323 |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 8:40 PM I want coffeecakes and ucrchick to ride off into the sunset together, after we sterilize both of them of course. They suck and bring absolutely nothing good to TLC. —acm323 |
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Beat It! |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 8:57 PM
Edited Friday, March 7, 2008 at 8:57 PM Whooooooooooooooooooooooo CARES?! —Beat It! |
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anobody |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 9:01 PM I don't get it - why did I think that coffeecakes was TBJ? —anobody |
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bguirk |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 9:12 PM because you're never here :( —bguirk |
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TortillaFactory |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 9:14 PM there are toddlers with down syndrome with better instincts than you scotty —MajandraFan I don't know what made me think of that. —TortillaFactory |
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anobody |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 9:20 PM because you're never here :( Believe me - if I could graduate and get paid as much or more than I'm making now by posting here, I'd be here all the damned time. —anobody |
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bguirk |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 9:28 PM graduating is important. i should leave for awhile and go write some stuff. —bguirk |
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Beat It! |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 9:37 PM bring absolutely nothing good to TLC. — acm323 This really could be applied to several posters, some of whom have been around for quite a while. But then, that's just my opinion of course. I just don't see where some of the incredible hostility comes from in some cases. I love to bust balls and there are some aggressive people that warrant aggressive counter-measures, but things are going to a new level. Either way, it's definitely been lively and at times fascinating, so keep up the good work kiddies. I feel like Commodus (minus the feeling of being vexed) watching from the stands. The thumb is down. —Beat It! |
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mandee |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 9:45 PM it's just frustrating when people refuse to leave. —mandee |
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Beat It! |
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Friday, March 7, 2008 at 9:50 PM All things in time. Now go solve Dusty last picture puzzle for me so I can sleep. —Beat It! |
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anfernee |
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Saturday, March 8, 2008 at 12:45 AM The trip I took last week was the first time I haven't listened to a classic Loveline during all the flying I had to do. I actually listened to 2 TACS's, 2 DDL's (Dr. Drew Live), and a Stryker era Loveline. I also drugged myself in a a sleepy stupor so it almost doesn't matter what I listen to at that point. I'm going to Seattle next week with my friend's family, and it's a 16 hour drive, and this is what I plan on doing. How long does an ipod nano battery last?? —anfernee |
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foob2011 |
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Saturday, March 8, 2008 at 1:10 AM i honestly havent listened to an episode of loveline since adam left, their chemistry is what made the show for me and i just cant listen to the show anymore, i just come back here for you guys. —foob2011 |
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bguirk |
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Saturday, March 8, 2008 at 11:17 AM I'm going to Seattle next week with my friend's family, and it's a 16 hour drive, and this is what I plan on doing. How long does an ipod nano battery last?? —anfernee 8 hours depending on how new it is? You could get a refurbished shuffle for like $35 and cover your drive time. That or find an outlet when you stop for food. My new survive a road trip/flight recipe: 2 beers plus 2 Dramamine tablets (original formula) ='s 5-6 hours of sweet sweet coma. 32 hours of driving though? Even with a mall job your time is probably worth enough to fly. Do they have an RV or something? —bguirk |
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chix0r |
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Saturday, March 8, 2008 at 11:21 AM You could buy one of those nifty adapters that plug into the lighter and have an outlet on them, too. —chix0r |
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anfernee |
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Saturday, March 8, 2008 at 1:07 PM I know that^ but it's not my car and I'm sure they'll be using it. 32 hours of driving though? Even with a mall job your time is probably worth enough to fly. Do they have an RV or something? No, it's not my decision, I'd definitely fly, but apparently the mom is deathly afraid of planes, so it's out of the question. I'll be alright, I'm not much of a complainer. I also just bought a new DS game called "Professor Layton and the Curious Village" and I loaded 100 Super Nintendo games on my PSP, so I'm sure the combo of those 3 gadgets will keep me busy. —anfernee |
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mandee |
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Saturday, March 8, 2008 at 1:10 PM plus, i'm sure you'll have car sing-a-longs. —mandee |
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Masteel |
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Saturday, March 8, 2008 at 1:32 PM ucrchik21--your only hope is to post more pics. —bguirk True. Oh, that's you in the profile? Well, you're a nice looking person, so I don't see why everyone can't tolerate you, maybe like you after time. I mean, it worked for ABM, why wouldn't it work for you? As Adam says, "we must punish the ugly" and you don't qualify. —Masteel |
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bguirk |
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Saturday, March 8, 2008 at 7:55 PM hate to say I told you so. actually I love saying it. —bguirk |
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