This one’s got a more mature theme.
(me): What do you have to hit Nuke with to make him die
(me) : I smacked him on the nuts with rox
Rowdy Roddy Sniper : It’s ok. Nuke’s been rendered impotent due to the fact the horseshoe in his ass has crushed the veins
leading to his penis
(me): roflmao
NUKEBAHB : lol
Rowdy Roddy Sniper : arteries rather. My taunts should be anatomically correct, sorry.
NUKEBAHB : u mad?
(me) : roflmao
Rowdy Roddy Sniper : u limp? 😉
(me) : BAHAHA
Light-hearted moment while gaming after coming from a slightly belated birthday dinner.
ral0s : apoc, serious question
(Voice) AsianNg: Help!
apoc : ?
ral0s : would you lick eggnog’s face for $20
(me): yes apoc is made of hax. next question…
(me) : OOH
(me) : HEY LICK HIS FACE
(me) : LICK IT
* giFToFgaMe _ : dude id lick it for free.
ral0s : lmao
As promised.
===
Now someone else knew my truth, shared my reality. I was not alone.
Deepon was a bundle of undirected energy. With talk of finding her maker, it found a focus. It gave her a reason to take blood, to gain strength, rather than fighting and resisting the call for it–which was startling with her tenacity, and admirable in itself–because now she had a reason to be sure. It gave her a reason to get out of that ratty gown. It gave her a reason to groom her wild hair, to smile, to be human, to affect charm. It gave her an outlet for her boundless guile.
It gave her a reason to hunt.
It gave her a reason for being.
Under my supervision, she held life and death in her hands. And liked it. As in she took to it more than her new nature would account for; she took to it… quite well. I may have physically held open the door, but she flew through it. And opened it herself again and again, each time she learned, perfected the art of the hunt, the kill. First with me, then more and more on her own.
We all react differently to death. Deepon approached death, or the prospect of it, with derring-do. I, however, didn’t; I approached it with deliberation.
I’ve had a morbid curiosity with the 5 stitches I had to get last Wednesday just above my ankle, on the shin. I wash my hands, poke and prod and massage the surrounding area gently when there’s a SHARP itch. If the itch is on the actual cut line… which it occasionally is, mostly it’s on the surrounding area an inch outward… I plaster it with the antibiotic cream.
I even wanted to see the doctor stitch me up (he said nope), seeing as I wasn’t able to get to him the day of… so he had to make the area ‘rebleed’ … but I did see him poke needles into the pink gash and surrounding area to freeze it…
Curious, the tugging sensations I felt as he sewed and snipped away.
The novelty of having stitches for the first time in my entire life, for stitches sake (a cut) wore off when the freezing did, during the Blue Jays game, on the 13th. I kept worrying if I was gonna bust the stitches. Nope, I won’t, as it turns out…
See, buddies online (including someone who was a combat medic) said “If it ain’t bleeding, yer fine. Let it crust over.”
“But… it looks like it’s smiling at me… I dunno…” I kept saying.
Turns out I was right.
Doc’s mighty pleased with the healing; much better than he was expecting. Apparently the damned sharp itching pains I keep getting’s a sign that it’s healing.
Uh-huh…
Just to get you squeamish again; I actually turned the stitches back and forth last night and the night before; nothing, no pain; wouldn’t have done it if there was any pain, anyway…
I believe a new layer of skin’s gonna replace what I’m seeing.
Seems to be a bunch of firsts for me these days: first cavity ever, first set of stitches…
I’ll tell you about the Blue Jays game another day. Good game, good game.
Right now, just squirm.
He had me at “strangle“:-
If you can’t subsume yourself into an alien ethos, then you’re being caught writing, as it were, in the same way that actors fear being caught acting. I think it’s probably quite different to painting, in terms of expression of ethics in an artform.
Also, I only threatened to strangle you that one time.
Heh.
…Yeah, just in case you were wondering what it’s like to spend the whole night finally playing the Mass Effect 2 game sitting on yer HD, sucking down an entire bottle of Pepsi, Â because the internet’s down, and it starts to dawn on you just how little you watch TV anymore…
Well, don’t really do it. By the end, no matter how engrossing the game, and no matter how many bottles of mango cider u scarf to see if it’lll counteract the fact you’re absolutely wired, you still feel like there’s white at the edges of your vision when you blink and  you think those are stars yer seeing, too.
Yeah, don’t do it.
The Reapers told me to play all night.
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