Real life fear/horror/madness
The printer
So, about three years ago I bought an inkjet printer (Hewlett-Packard 6940). It worked okay for a while, but like all printers before it, it had a few small irritating things.
Unfortunately, these became large irritating things and now I have destroyed the printer. Foremost, the printer would occasionally "smear" pages. This is when it decides to feed three sheets of paper through at once and print one page across three pages. This usually arses up the order entirely and ruins those pages of the document. Worse still, if I'm printing two-sided documents, this usually completely buggers up the entire sodding document. Pages 13, 15, and 17 will all have page 14 printed across the back in small increments, and then page 16 will be on the back of 19. Time to throw the whole pile into the recycle bin.
I could make the printer work properly by breastfeeding every last damn piece of paper through individually by hand, but I'm not a printer nursemaid and my e-boobs can only lactate limited quantities of the milk of human kindness in them. That's the printer's damn work to print correctly, not mine, and if it can't bloody well do it properly it deserves all the abuse it gets. Bastard.
Two days ago, my brother mailed me a new printer as a winter holiday present (I don't celebrate Christmas because I don't quite understand how a Crucifixion relates to reindeer and fat men in suits and until I figure it out with sufficient discovery, I'm not going to endorse the questionable modus operandi) and this made the first printer completely obsolete.
I took it outside, balanced it on a garden rock in our front lawn, put on my surplus RAF combat boots, and gave it a few good stomps. The outer shell of the printer fell off as though it had been crowbarred. Suddenly I got a mind's eye look at how Michael Boulton must have felt in Office Space as he took a baseball bat to the recalcitrant office printer. I went back in and got out one of my swords.
I'll post pictures later. It's been about two days, and every so often when I'm feeling either really good about myself or really bad about myself, I'll go outside and scatter yet more printer pieces with a good kicking. One of our neighbors asked my landlord what was going on, and he just said "Oh, Bing got sworn in by the state's highest court yesterday. He's a lawyer now - he knows what he's doing".
They don't ask again.
So, about three years ago I bought an inkjet printer (Hewlett-Packard 6940). It worked okay for a while, but like all printers before it, it had a few small irritating things.
I could make the printer work properly by breastfeeding every last damn piece of paper through individually by hand, but I'm not a printer nursemaid and my e-boobs can only lactate limited quantities of the milk of human kindness in them. That's the printer's damn work to print correctly, not mine, and if it can't bloody well do it properly it deserves all the abuse it gets. Bastard.
Two days ago, my brother mailed me a new printer as a winter holiday present (I don't celebrate Christmas because I don't quite understand how a Crucifixion relates to reindeer and fat men in suits and until I figure it out with sufficient discovery, I'm not going to endorse the questionable modus operandi) and this made the first printer completely obsolete.
I took it outside, balanced it on a garden rock in our front lawn, put on my surplus RAF combat boots, and gave it a few good stomps. The outer shell of the printer fell off as though it had been crowbarred. Suddenly I got a mind's eye look at how Michael Boulton must have felt in Office Space as he took a baseball bat to the recalcitrant office printer. I went back in and got out one of my swords.
I'll post pictures later. It's been about two days, and every so often when I'm feeling either really good about myself or really bad about myself, I'll go outside and scatter yet more printer pieces with a good kicking. One of our neighbors asked my landlord what was going on, and he just said "Oh, Bing got sworn in by the state's highest court yesterday. He's a lawyer now - he knows what he's doing".
They don't ask again.
Last edited by HuManBing on Thu Dec 17, 2009 1:50 pm, edited 2 times in total.
We're also thinking of reenacting Andrew Ryan's confrontation scene from the game Bioshock, only the final command involves the application of the golf club to the printer. We do have a shotgun for my landlord to carry around as Jack but we do not have golf clubs for me to carry around as Andrew Ryan.
Warning: the Youtube link does have huge spoilers, so don't watch it if you're planning on playing Bioshock.
Warning: the Youtube link does have huge spoilers, so don't watch it if you're planning on playing Bioshock.
Boulderpush
HDT, my brother, used to play a game with me in the swimming pool.
One brother is the boulder and he takes a deep breath and curls up into the foetal position. The air in the lungs causes the boulder to float, bobbing gently up and down in the water.
The other brother is the pusher. He then has to frantically swim and push the boulder along the swimming lanes to hit the other side.
What inevitably happens is that the boulder runs out of air and starts exhaling. This starts a vicious cycle whereby the reduced air causes sinkage, slowing down the pusher, and causing the boulder to run out of air even more quickly. It's not unknown for the boulder to run out of air entirely and then sink down out of reach of the despondent pusher, coming to rest amiably on the bottom of the swimming pool.
After a decade of playing this game with HDT unsuccessfully, I played it once with CitiesOfGold. Perhaps owing to a lower center of gravity and a higher degree of buoyancy, COG surprised me greatly by successfully bouldering for the length of a full sized swimming pool.
Well, actually she bouldered until the last bodylength and then the boulder suddenly unraveled and began paddling furiously for the side. But we made it, sort of.
It's a wonder I'm not dead yet playing games like this.
HDT, my brother, used to play a game with me in the swimming pool.
One brother is the boulder and he takes a deep breath and curls up into the foetal position. The air in the lungs causes the boulder to float, bobbing gently up and down in the water.
The other brother is the pusher. He then has to frantically swim and push the boulder along the swimming lanes to hit the other side.
What inevitably happens is that the boulder runs out of air and starts exhaling. This starts a vicious cycle whereby the reduced air causes sinkage, slowing down the pusher, and causing the boulder to run out of air even more quickly. It's not unknown for the boulder to run out of air entirely and then sink down out of reach of the despondent pusher, coming to rest amiably on the bottom of the swimming pool.
After a decade of playing this game with HDT unsuccessfully, I played it once with CitiesOfGold. Perhaps owing to a lower center of gravity and a higher degree of buoyancy, COG surprised me greatly by successfully bouldering for the length of a full sized swimming pool.
Well, actually she bouldered until the last bodylength and then the boulder suddenly unraveled and began paddling furiously for the side. But we made it, sort of.
It's a wonder I'm not dead yet playing games like this.
Last edited by HuManBing on Sun Jun 29, 2014 10:56 am, edited 3 times in total.
The Romantic Disaster Trilogy: Part 3
This relationship was my first, and it lasted almost three years. It happened about a decade ago, and my memory of the matter has already largely faded, but perusing some notes I took of it turned up a few entertaining bits. (The notes themselves were already retrospective - I decided in 2003 to try to write down as much as I could remember of her, for reasons that will become obvious later on.)
This story is fairly serious near the end though. Perhaps it's good that the trilogy ends on a didactic note.
In retrospect, I guess she would have been Humbert Humbert's dream come true. She was very slender and small, and had very skinny limbs. Both of these would become unexpectedly significant later on, but for now people who knew we were dating thought I was either very lucky, or some sort of pervert. Her favorite activity with me was riding on my shoulders, because it gave her the line-of-sight of somebody who was over six feet tall.
Perhaps surprisingly, for somebody so childlike, she was the one who started the relationship, and she did this in a fairly unusual way. She found out which classes I attended, then signed on as an auditing student with them. She found out which coffee shops were near my dorms, and set up her study books there. She enlisted her friends to get to know me and mention her name. Basically, she did all the work, which was pretty much necessary because at that time I had virtually no interests outside of Goldeneye007, the Nintendo game, which was awesome back in 1999 and still is pretty kick-ass today.
This was immensely flattering (not to mention a little disquieting) but it had a bad effect for me. Being my first girlfriend ever, it basically spoiled me into thinking a) I was striking enough so that girls would do all the legwork leaving me to play Goldeneye007, and b) my looks were going to last forever.
In retrospect, these axioms have both aged poorly.
Our first date was a nice evening walk along the river Wear, or possibly the Tyne, amid the gloriously late sunset that occurs in the north of England (on the two consecutive days of sunny weather they call summer over there). I think I talked about religion before she steered the conversation to music and more diplomatic topics. We parted ways with a chaste kiss outside her dorm room.
Our second date involved a birthday cake (mine) and champagne (hers). After we were done she took off all her clothes and sat down on the bed next to me. Things could theoretically have gone very well from that point onwards, but I had just sat a 3-hour finals exam in Old Norse skaldic poetry immediately after completing the Nintendo game Goldeneye007 with all 23 cheats unlocked over about 10 hours' straight playing, and I don't remember much because I passed out from the champagne. Her memories were allegedly pretty good, which makes me wonder if we're even remembering the same night.
I do recall writing a kick-ass dissection of the crippled blacksmith symbolism in Völundarkviða and getting an "A" in that course, but this is not particularly important to the story.
GumDrop came from a conservative family living in a conservative culture, and she planned to go back to her home country after finishing school in Britain. So there were certain delicate borders we had to respect in our relationship. She was just barely hidebound enough, and I was just barely inexperienced enough, to actually observe the limits and think it could actually work. It drove us both insane, but I suppose to people who don't know better, it was the best we ever knew.
Three years passed, during which there were numerous clashes and reconciliations. A wiser person would have moved on, but for whatever reason we stuck together - her out of a growing panic that we would have to part ways, and I out of a general sense that nothing apart from Goldeneye007 merited any actual concern.
We both graduated, we exchanged gifts (she gave me a fancy fountain pen), we met each others' parents. Things went amicably. In June 2001, she went back home to her country. To paraphrase Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, she did not give me anything that I couldn't return to them.
The conversation is noteworthy so I reproduce it here.
Then, months later, without any warning, I learned that GumDrop had died.
The unfamiliar male was her boyfriend - my successor - and he had the unenviable job of going through her email address and emailing all her address book contacts with the news. Apparently, her short stature and the slender build and the extremely thin limbs had not been a coincidence. GumDrop had had a congenital disorder in her gall bladder, which had finally turned cancerous and killed her in the space of months after they first diagnosed it. Even to the end, she had retained some slight control over her fate: GumDrop grimly held on through the weeks of jaundice and chemotherapy until the day of her 25th birthday, before dying in her sleep that afternoon.
According to her culture's tradition, they held the body in rest for 100 days and then conducted a funeral. Already a penniless master's degree student in America by that time, I booked a flight back to the Old World and attended, rubbing shoulders with the senior clerics and the retired colonels who knew her father. I shook hands and embraced her new boyfriend in commiseration, a man newly stricken by a loss that could not even be described as widowhood. She was cremated over an evening and her ashes were taken in a packed-earthenware jug to the shores where she had played as a child, and then she was laid to the seabed there - to disperse at last. One of her brothers also bought a commemorative place for her name on a NASA vessel. It gives me a strange sense of poetic balance to know that her last earthly memorials are both at the bottom of the ocean and high above the clouds.
An architect might have been a good person, well worth remembering fondly after parting ways. But if he designed a rickety house, common sense suggests putting his design away and trying something else. Sadly for me, GumDrop's death suddenly undid my gradual recovery and reversed my mindset entirely. Now, it felt, every last concession and limitation and restriction I had observed, was suddenly vindicated by the fact that she was gone.
Yes, it had been a struggle. Yes, it had been a terrible exercise in self-denial. Yes, it had twisted my heart and mind in knots with the impossibility of reconciling the desires of the body against the ideals of her faraway culture. Yes, to all these things... but she was gone, and in the end, her departure somehow justified all this while she was alive.
There is a logical fallacy that follows from this. The justification above is retrospective - it is essentially a post-hoc rationalization. (Perhaps a fairly harmless one, as it helps a grieving survivor deal with the death of a loved one, but a rationalization nonetheless.) My error was to extrapolate that philosophy going forwards. If these painful values happened to be vindicated in the past - then it stands to reason they must be vindicated after all future scenarios too.
This axiom has not aged well either. Unfortunately, it took me seven years to see it.
The details are long and boring and so I must compress. Suffice it to say that after a few more personal stumblings (some of which you see elsewhere in this thread), I finally turned it around. Oddly enough, not through any lesson of my own, but through somebody else. I witnessed the self-destruction of a close friend who embraced a position of dependence, and who completely abdicated control over his future. This was the point of realization: the transfixed moment when an addict stands on the street corner with his last check in his hand and he suddenly understands fully that it's his last check and it's time to go into rehab.
Only, for me it was different. I went into law school.
I'm at the end of my third decade, I've lived on three different continents, and I've got three academic degrees to my name. I've had three significant others who have really mattered to me (including GumDrop) - so perhaps I have some catching up to do: maybe, maybe not.
But a decade on from the heady inexperience of GumDrop, there's some lessons learned. I'm hardly old enough to pretend to any wisdom compared to my peers on these message boards, but there's still a lot of stuff I really wish I'd known earlier...
* Do what your heart is telling you to - live life to the fullest. You never know when it's closing time, and all the things you put off for when "the time is right" are impossible to finish in the time you have left.
* Don't be afraid to define what's truly important to you. Once you do, resist people who want to convince you that self-denial is a virtue. If the people around you disapprove of what you want, find new people. You can lose friends and make new ones. Lost ideals are harder to replace.
* If you followed a rule in the past, and it yielded good results through a major quirk of chance or fate - maybe it's not a good rule for the future. You never know when a major quirk of chance will fail to materialize when you really, really need it.
* Learn from past missteps, but don't waste time on anger. Small mementos and retrospection help ease the pain, but don't spend so long on it that you're still living in the past.
* It's a cliché but it's a cliché for a reason: Life is a marathon, not a sprint, and in the end, it's only against yourself.
This relationship was my first, and it lasted almost three years. It happened about a decade ago, and my memory of the matter has already largely faded, but perusing some notes I took of it turned up a few entertaining bits. (The notes themselves were already retrospective - I decided in 2003 to try to write down as much as I could remember of her, for reasons that will become obvious later on.)
This story is fairly serious near the end though. Perhaps it's good that the trilogy ends on a didactic note.
* ~ * ~ *
GumDrop [not her real name] was two years older than me, but about half a foot shorter, and roughly half my mass. She looked very young, dressed very young, and acted very young. Understandably, when we walked around in public, people would wonder if she was my kid sister. In actuality, she really was the youngest sister in her family, and you could tell it from her behavior. Despite being 20 when I first met her and 23 when we parted ways, she constantly skipped around making Pikachu noises. What sort of college-age student is so immature that they still obsessively play a video game, I ask you?In retrospect, I guess she would have been Humbert Humbert's dream come true. She was very slender and small, and had very skinny limbs. Both of these would become unexpectedly significant later on, but for now people who knew we were dating thought I was either very lucky, or some sort of pervert. Her favorite activity with me was riding on my shoulders, because it gave her the line-of-sight of somebody who was over six feet tall.
Perhaps surprisingly, for somebody so childlike, she was the one who started the relationship, and she did this in a fairly unusual way. She found out which classes I attended, then signed on as an auditing student with them. She found out which coffee shops were near my dorms, and set up her study books there. She enlisted her friends to get to know me and mention her name. Basically, she did all the work, which was pretty much necessary because at that time I had virtually no interests outside of Goldeneye007, the Nintendo game, which was awesome back in 1999 and still is pretty kick-ass today.
This was immensely flattering (not to mention a little disquieting) but it had a bad effect for me. Being my first girlfriend ever, it basically spoiled me into thinking a) I was striking enough so that girls would do all the legwork leaving me to play Goldeneye007, and b) my looks were going to last forever.
In retrospect, these axioms have both aged poorly.
Our first date was a nice evening walk along the river Wear, or possibly the Tyne, amid the gloriously late sunset that occurs in the north of England (on the two consecutive days of sunny weather they call summer over there). I think I talked about religion before she steered the conversation to music and more diplomatic topics. We parted ways with a chaste kiss outside her dorm room.
Our second date involved a birthday cake (mine) and champagne (hers). After we were done she took off all her clothes and sat down on the bed next to me. Things could theoretically have gone very well from that point onwards, but I had just sat a 3-hour finals exam in Old Norse skaldic poetry immediately after completing the Nintendo game Goldeneye007 with all 23 cheats unlocked over about 10 hours' straight playing, and I don't remember much because I passed out from the champagne. Her memories were allegedly pretty good, which makes me wonder if we're even remembering the same night.
I do recall writing a kick-ass dissection of the crippled blacksmith symbolism in Völundarkviða and getting an "A" in that course, but this is not particularly important to the story.
GumDrop came from a conservative family living in a conservative culture, and she planned to go back to her home country after finishing school in Britain. So there were certain delicate borders we had to respect in our relationship. She was just barely hidebound enough, and I was just barely inexperienced enough, to actually observe the limits and think it could actually work. It drove us both insane, but I suppose to people who don't know better, it was the best we ever knew.
Three years passed, during which there were numerous clashes and reconciliations. A wiser person would have moved on, but for whatever reason we stuck together - her out of a growing panic that we would have to part ways, and I out of a general sense that nothing apart from Goldeneye007 merited any actual concern.
We both graduated, we exchanged gifts (she gave me a fancy fountain pen), we met each others' parents. Things went amicably. In June 2001, she went back home to her country. To paraphrase Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, she did not give me anything that I couldn't return to them.
* ~ * ~ *
Already I had learned several bad habits from her, mostly involving chastity, courtly love, and other quaint niceties of a bygone age. I set about trying to unlearn them, but the process is a slow one and it's usually best if the former lover doesn't interfere. We even attempted a long-distance relationship for a few months before finally calling it quits. Funnily enough, we broke up on October 1, when I was in China.The conversation is noteworthy so I reproduce it here.
There was radio silence for a while from GumDrop. I tried to sidle in with a few Korean girls at my college in Beijing, but the ones I wanted weren't interested and the ones who wanted me I didn't particularly like. The bad habits tripped me up on a few occasions, but I was making good progress on recovering from them. Eventually I started being more open, being more proactive. Doing some of the legwork of starting a relationship. In short, being a vaguely normal human adult male.Me: Hey, I know I just got off the line with you, but did you know what day it is?
Her: No. What day is it?
Me: It's Chinese National Liberation Day! On this day fifty two years ago, the Chinese Communists declared the nation free from the slavery and oppression of the past.
Her: ... so ...?
Me: Well we broke up on this day too, freeing us from the slavery and oppression of the past.
Her: [Very many very bad words. Hangs up.]
Me: ...what did I say? I swear I will never understand women. Geez.
Then, months later, without any warning, I learned that GumDrop had died.
* ~ * ~ *
In late 2002, early 2003, I got an email that actually routed into my Spam folder. I wouldn't even have noticed it, except this was back in the day that you had to manually empty Spam folders. By some stroke of fortune, I did my Spam sweep just a few hours after receiving the email (otherwise it would have been buried under the spam and I would have deleted it with all the rest). Before clicking the Empty button, I noticed GumDrop's name in the subject line, even though the sender address was an unfamiliar male.The unfamiliar male was her boyfriend - my successor - and he had the unenviable job of going through her email address and emailing all her address book contacts with the news. Apparently, her short stature and the slender build and the extremely thin limbs had not been a coincidence. GumDrop had had a congenital disorder in her gall bladder, which had finally turned cancerous and killed her in the space of months after they first diagnosed it. Even to the end, she had retained some slight control over her fate: GumDrop grimly held on through the weeks of jaundice and chemotherapy until the day of her 25th birthday, before dying in her sleep that afternoon.
According to her culture's tradition, they held the body in rest for 100 days and then conducted a funeral. Already a penniless master's degree student in America by that time, I booked a flight back to the Old World and attended, rubbing shoulders with the senior clerics and the retired colonels who knew her father. I shook hands and embraced her new boyfriend in commiseration, a man newly stricken by a loss that could not even be described as widowhood. She was cremated over an evening and her ashes were taken in a packed-earthenware jug to the shores where she had played as a child, and then she was laid to the seabed there - to disperse at last. One of her brothers also bought a commemorative place for her name on a NASA vessel. It gives me a strange sense of poetic balance to know that her last earthly memorials are both at the bottom of the ocean and high above the clouds.
* ~ * ~ *
Death brings several recollective dilemmas for the survivors. As you can tell from my sentimental prose above, it's hard to think ill of the departed. Their flaws and imperfections fade against the knowledge that memories are all you have left - so let them be good memories. But it complicates matters when you extend the same positive spin on other elements surrounding them.An architect might have been a good person, well worth remembering fondly after parting ways. But if he designed a rickety house, common sense suggests putting his design away and trying something else. Sadly for me, GumDrop's death suddenly undid my gradual recovery and reversed my mindset entirely. Now, it felt, every last concession and limitation and restriction I had observed, was suddenly vindicated by the fact that she was gone.
Yes, it had been a struggle. Yes, it had been a terrible exercise in self-denial. Yes, it had twisted my heart and mind in knots with the impossibility of reconciling the desires of the body against the ideals of her faraway culture. Yes, to all these things... but she was gone, and in the end, her departure somehow justified all this while she was alive.
There is a logical fallacy that follows from this. The justification above is retrospective - it is essentially a post-hoc rationalization. (Perhaps a fairly harmless one, as it helps a grieving survivor deal with the death of a loved one, but a rationalization nonetheless.) My error was to extrapolate that philosophy going forwards. If these painful values happened to be vindicated in the past - then it stands to reason they must be vindicated after all future scenarios too.
This axiom has not aged well either. Unfortunately, it took me seven years to see it.
The details are long and boring and so I must compress. Suffice it to say that after a few more personal stumblings (some of which you see elsewhere in this thread), I finally turned it around. Oddly enough, not through any lesson of my own, but through somebody else. I witnessed the self-destruction of a close friend who embraced a position of dependence, and who completely abdicated control over his future. This was the point of realization: the transfixed moment when an addict stands on the street corner with his last check in his hand and he suddenly understands fully that it's his last check and it's time to go into rehab.
Only, for me it was different. I went into law school.
* ~ * ~ *
Today, things could go either way. I became a lawyer. In the latest housemoving, I found the fountain pen she gave me. It still writes, serviceably well, with a replaced nib. I'm at the end of my third decade, I've lived on three different continents, and I've got three academic degrees to my name. I've had three significant others who have really mattered to me (including GumDrop) - so perhaps I have some catching up to do: maybe, maybe not.
But a decade on from the heady inexperience of GumDrop, there's some lessons learned. I'm hardly old enough to pretend to any wisdom compared to my peers on these message boards, but there's still a lot of stuff I really wish I'd known earlier...
* Do what your heart is telling you to - live life to the fullest. You never know when it's closing time, and all the things you put off for when "the time is right" are impossible to finish in the time you have left.
* Don't be afraid to define what's truly important to you. Once you do, resist people who want to convince you that self-denial is a virtue. If the people around you disapprove of what you want, find new people. You can lose friends and make new ones. Lost ideals are harder to replace.
* If you followed a rule in the past, and it yielded good results through a major quirk of chance or fate - maybe it's not a good rule for the future. You never know when a major quirk of chance will fail to materialize when you really, really need it.
* Learn from past missteps, but don't waste time on anger. Small mementos and retrospection help ease the pain, but don't spend so long on it that you're still living in the past.
* It's a cliché but it's a cliché for a reason: Life is a marathon, not a sprint, and in the end, it's only against yourself.
* ~ * ~ *
No hard feelings, GumDrop. It really was good while it lasted.Last story about lawyerhood
...I promise.
I was waiting in line at the FedexKinko's to send a fax. There's a guy behind me who was talking about getting a traffic ticket and going to court.
I turned to him and said "Oh yeah, I was at the state high court yesterday."
He said "What was your sentence?"
I said "They made me a lawyer."
His eyes went round.
"Geez, dude. What the hell didya do?"
^__^
...I promise.
I was waiting in line at the FedexKinko's to send a fax. There's a guy behind me who was talking about getting a traffic ticket and going to court.
I turned to him and said "Oh yeah, I was at the state high court yesterday."
He said "What was your sentence?"
I said "They made me a lawyer."
His eyes went round.
"Geez, dude. What the hell didya do?"
^__^
A heartbreaking confession of forbidden love and a criminal record 
Before you read this: Please don't judge me... I'm just sharing my story because people asked...
Wow... okay, I wasn't sure if I was ever going to tell anyone about this, but it's late and I'm sleep deprived so i guess I'll just write it now and regret it in the morning :/
First of all, - just for some background: My mom died right when I was born, (she was actually really, really hot- but this isn't about her. I guess that's screwed up to say, but whatever.) I actually grew up with my dad's family, because my dad has all sorts of emotional issues and he bailed before I was born. So you can see, my childhood was really kind of messed up.
Anyways, growing up I feel like there was always a lot of distance between me and my sister. When I was about 17 or 18 I first noticed that my sister was a hottie.
I don't want to go into too many details about it, but basically what happened is that I accidentally found a video that she made of herself. I knew she didn't make it for me- but I thought she was so unbelievably beautiful that I watched it twice. I probably would have watched it a hell of a lot more, except that like right around the time I found the video, I got in a lot of trouble with the government and I had to leave home. (My dad's family who I was staying with got in bad trouble with the law. I never talk about it).
Sooo... I was totally lusting after my sister at that point. She was also having bad trouble with the law. She was actually in custody when I left home.
My friend and I went to go pick her up. When I saw her that day, after seeing the video, I have to be honest, I couldn't really think of her as my sister - kept wanting to hold her and not in that way. Looking back on it now, it's pretty messed up- but I think she had feelings for me too. She actually kissed me right after we came to get her... and it wasn't a sisterly kiss, you know? I mean, it wasn't like ridiculously sexual or anything, but it definitely wasn't sisterly.
After we left, we all went to crash with my Sister's friends. On the trip there, my friend sort of implied that he wanted to get with my Sister, and I got a little jealous. He's a good looking guy- and even though she was my sister- I just felt like he was competition. Not much else happened between us for a while except some maybe-sexy hugging.
Pretty much everyone in my life at that point was wanted by the government, so we all moved around a lot. I'm not saying that I'm proud of it or anything, but it was kind of an awesome time.
My friend and my sister never hooked up I don't think- but I thought there was some serious sexual tension going on between them. It was around that time that I got really badly hurt in an accident. It was screwed up. I almost died. But when I was in recovery my sister came to see me, and out of the clear blue sky she started gives me this awesome, slow, passionate kiss on the lips.
Sadly (although, I guess for the best) nothing ever came of it. We spent some time apart... and I started to get really religious, so I tried not to think of her that way. It was actually going well for a long time- like I was totally over her. But I have to say, like a year or so after all that stuff went down, we were out sailing (not like a date or anything romantic like that), and she was wearing like the hottest bikini I've ever seen and it brought back all the old feelings. Sigh.
A little while later she actually wound up with my friend from before (the sexual tension guy). I can't say I was surprised.
But even after she was shacking up with my friend, there was one time we were at a party... my friend was inside, and my sister and I were outside alone. It was a really intimate moment. I think something might have happened, except that I killed the mood when I told her that Darth Vader was our father and that I had to go face him.
Before you read this: Please don't judge me... I'm just sharing my story because people asked...
Wow... okay, I wasn't sure if I was ever going to tell anyone about this, but it's late and I'm sleep deprived so i guess I'll just write it now and regret it in the morning :/
First of all, - just for some background: My mom died right when I was born, (she was actually really, really hot- but this isn't about her. I guess that's screwed up to say, but whatever.) I actually grew up with my dad's family, because my dad has all sorts of emotional issues and he bailed before I was born. So you can see, my childhood was really kind of messed up.
Anyways, growing up I feel like there was always a lot of distance between me and my sister. When I was about 17 or 18 I first noticed that my sister was a hottie.
I don't want to go into too many details about it, but basically what happened is that I accidentally found a video that she made of herself. I knew she didn't make it for me- but I thought she was so unbelievably beautiful that I watched it twice. I probably would have watched it a hell of a lot more, except that like right around the time I found the video, I got in a lot of trouble with the government and I had to leave home. (My dad's family who I was staying with got in bad trouble with the law. I never talk about it).
Sooo... I was totally lusting after my sister at that point. She was also having bad trouble with the law. She was actually in custody when I left home.
My friend and I went to go pick her up. When I saw her that day, after seeing the video, I have to be honest, I couldn't really think of her as my sister - kept wanting to hold her and not in that way. Looking back on it now, it's pretty messed up- but I think she had feelings for me too. She actually kissed me right after we came to get her... and it wasn't a sisterly kiss, you know? I mean, it wasn't like ridiculously sexual or anything, but it definitely wasn't sisterly.
After we left, we all went to crash with my Sister's friends. On the trip there, my friend sort of implied that he wanted to get with my Sister, and I got a little jealous. He's a good looking guy- and even though she was my sister- I just felt like he was competition. Not much else happened between us for a while except some maybe-sexy hugging.
Pretty much everyone in my life at that point was wanted by the government, so we all moved around a lot. I'm not saying that I'm proud of it or anything, but it was kind of an awesome time.
My friend and my sister never hooked up I don't think- but I thought there was some serious sexual tension going on between them. It was around that time that I got really badly hurt in an accident. It was screwed up. I almost died. But when I was in recovery my sister came to see me, and out of the clear blue sky she started gives me this awesome, slow, passionate kiss on the lips.
Sadly (although, I guess for the best) nothing ever came of it. We spent some time apart... and I started to get really religious, so I tried not to think of her that way. It was actually going well for a long time- like I was totally over her. But I have to say, like a year or so after all that stuff went down, we were out sailing (not like a date or anything romantic like that), and she was wearing like the hottest bikini I've ever seen and it brought back all the old feelings. Sigh.
A little while later she actually wound up with my friend from before (the sexual tension guy). I can't say I was surprised.
But even after she was shacking up with my friend, there was one time we were at a party... my friend was inside, and my sister and I were outside alone. It was a really intimate moment. I think something might have happened, except that I killed the mood when I told her that Darth Vader was our father and that I had to go face him.
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Gonzoron of the FoS
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Zettaijin
- Evil Genius
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I had no idea Darth Vader was asian.
Do people like go up to you and say "HMB, I am your father! Hahahahahahaha!!!!" all the time or what?
Do people like go up to you and say "HMB, I am your father! Hahahahahahaha!!!!" all the time or what?
Last edited by Zettaijin on Tue Jan 26, 2010 9:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Dimitri Mazieres
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HMB, that was hilarious. I'm really enjoying reading your weird literary escapades
[i]"Many point out that this battle against the darkness is an impossible one, and they may well be right. Impossible or not, however, the battle for righteousness is one that only a few heroes are brave enough to undertake"[/i]
Just to be clear, I was not the original writer of that particular entry - I found it on another website. I wish I was, though. It caught me completely by surprise when I first read it!
Here's a true story which happened to me about five days ago or so:
Confusing the Credit Card Callers
U.S. Congress has passed a bill that comes into effect soon, making it unlawful for a credit card to allow a customer to spend above the limit, unless specifically agreed in advance. Basically this is meant as a consumer protection measure.
I got a call from my credit card provider. They were trying to get me to sign a contract that would allow me to agree to go over my credit limit. The guy they had call me up was working from a question tree, and he started off with the usual name and ZIP code verification and then segued into the legislation, painting it as a limitation on my rights as a consumer. He then asked me if I wanted to sign a contract that would keep that open for a low price of $35 per month.
My response was probably not one of the standard responses listed on his sheet.
I told him that the deal was nonsensical since I'd basically be paying them a fixed price for the right to put myself into even greater debt. I also told him that he is mischaracterizing the legislative intent of the bill and that, as it stands, it is fully within the rationally-tailored scope of its legitimate government interest to protect customers from predatory lending practices under the Commerce Clause. Basically, it protected them from contracts of adhesion and unconscionability, and his purpose was apparently to try to get me to contract away that federal protection, and to collect some money while doing so.
Moreover, I advised him that the proposed over-the-phone contract itself could be a potential contract of adhesion, a violation of the very lending practices that Congress was trying to stop, and a promising candidate for future class action as well.
I then declined his offer.
He appeared to be okay with the denial, but I suspect my legal and contractual analysis was not a response that he had expected.
He floundered around for a bit and then I asked him what city he was in, and he said Bangalore, so we talked about the weather a bit.
It is hot there.
Here's a true story which happened to me about five days ago or so:
Confusing the Credit Card Callers
U.S. Congress has passed a bill that comes into effect soon, making it unlawful for a credit card to allow a customer to spend above the limit, unless specifically agreed in advance. Basically this is meant as a consumer protection measure.
I got a call from my credit card provider. They were trying to get me to sign a contract that would allow me to agree to go over my credit limit. The guy they had call me up was working from a question tree, and he started off with the usual name and ZIP code verification and then segued into the legislation, painting it as a limitation on my rights as a consumer. He then asked me if I wanted to sign a contract that would keep that open for a low price of $35 per month.
My response was probably not one of the standard responses listed on his sheet.
I told him that the deal was nonsensical since I'd basically be paying them a fixed price for the right to put myself into even greater debt. I also told him that he is mischaracterizing the legislative intent of the bill and that, as it stands, it is fully within the rationally-tailored scope of its legitimate government interest to protect customers from predatory lending practices under the Commerce Clause. Basically, it protected them from contracts of adhesion and unconscionability, and his purpose was apparently to try to get me to contract away that federal protection, and to collect some money while doing so.
Moreover, I advised him that the proposed over-the-phone contract itself could be a potential contract of adhesion, a violation of the very lending practices that Congress was trying to stop, and a promising candidate for future class action as well.
I then declined his offer.
He appeared to be okay with the denial, but I suspect my legal and contractual analysis was not a response that he had expected.
He floundered around for a bit and then I asked him what city he was in, and he said Bangalore, so we talked about the weather a bit.
It is hot there.
I love my landlord
Back in June I moved into this house where the landlord also lives on premises. He's great. We share the same interest in video games, outdoor exercise, and truly astonishingly crappy puns. He's the first landlord/roommate I've had.
A few exchanges:
No weakness:
Bottles
Cans
French fries
Cups
Cushions
Briefcase
Wallet
Cell phone
Hand lotion sachet
Barley
Jasmine tea
Raisins
Faint to moderate vulnerability:
Fingertips
Bookends
Blunt end of a fork
Transformer car
Wii remote
Keychain
Plastic spatula
Lipstick
Mascara pack
Tylenol container
Plastic spork
Lip balm dispenser
Foreign Affairs
Marked revulsion:
Gluestick
Camembert
Used facial tissue
Financial Times
Pencil eraser
Trancelike hypnotism:
Gilmore Girls
After a fair bit of this he then locked himself downstairs saying I was "too distracting".
Back in June I moved into this house where the landlord also lives on premises. He's great. We share the same interest in video games, outdoor exercise, and truly astonishingly crappy puns. He's the first landlord/roommate I've had.
A few exchanges:
The landlord/roommate has a nice flashy car. Every so often we go driving in it and we roll down the windows and cup the oncoming air in our hands. This was a tradition I started and we have a weird name for it.DTM: I'm tired, I'm going to bed.
HMB: When you wrap yourself up, make sure there is a hole in the blankets for your feet.
DTM: Why?
HMB: So you can curl up in the feet-hole position.
[several minutes later]
DTM: OH GOD THAT WAS HORRIBLE!!!
My landlord/roommate's Dad first met me when I was still a law school student. I was very studious and quiet because I was working hard to pass my exams. I don't think he got a very good idea of my personality because later on we had this conversation.HMB: Hey can I open the window?
DTM: Sure. Did you fart or something?
HMB: Nope, it's air boob time.
DTM: YES, IT IS AIR BOOB TIME. Let me join you.
[both roll down windows, stick their hands out the windows, and grab air boobs]
HMB: Air boob.
DTM: Yes, air boob.
DTM's Dad: (confused, in the back seat) "Air boob"?
Every so often DTM works from home. This rarely ends well for him. One time I decided he was a closeted superhero and I decided to test out what his secret weaknesses were. These are the findings:DTM's Dad: You know, Bing, you were a lot more quiet and reserved when I first met you.
HMB: Well, yes. I supposed I hadn't located a nearby dealer yet.
DTM's Dad: I see.
No weakness:
Bottles
Cans
French fries
Cups
Cushions
Briefcase
Wallet
Cell phone
Hand lotion sachet
Barley
Jasmine tea
Raisins
Faint to moderate vulnerability:
Fingertips
Bookends
Blunt end of a fork
Transformer car
Wii remote
Keychain
Plastic spatula
Lipstick
Mascara pack
Tylenol container
Plastic spork
Lip balm dispenser
Foreign Affairs
Marked revulsion:
Gluestick
Camembert
Used facial tissue
Financial Times
Pencil eraser
Trancelike hypnotism:
Gilmore Girls
After a fair bit of this he then locked himself downstairs saying I was "too distracting".
Last edited by HuManBing on Mon Apr 21, 2014 9:40 pm, edited 1 time in total.