Thread of Nonsensical Ramblings

[refujiunderground]

oh lawd. i gotta take another shit. it's coming. brb.

 

[mrbeebs]

they ain't got no mo fried chicken yall

 

[refujiunderground]

they ain't got no mo fried chicken yall

you can't make it yourself?

 

[borg69unimatrix]

my gut just said fuck you to me just now so fuck you, gut! Stop fighting me, gut. Stop fighting me. Always fucking having boxing matches with me. Tonight's dinner better not come back up. My asshole also feels weird too like shits about to come out of it any minute even though i don't have to take a shit. Took a shit today and guess there wasn't enough fiber in my system where it felt like it was tearing my insides up. My whole digestive system is hating on me. Maybe because i was hating on it back on the day. Now it wants to fucking fight me back.

tmi tmi tmi !!!!!!

 

[mrbeebs]

you can't make it yourself?

Who do you think I am? I do NOT fry my own chicken!

 

[G-Lexington]

I was lying in bed thinking about a friend who's been sick. And I flashed back to being six or seven. I think my brother and I were suffering the same ailment. Don't recall what it was - might have been chicken pox or something. Our pediatrician wanted to keep an eye on us, so at least once, Dr O'Gara stopped by our house. He had one of those black leather doctor's bags, from which he pulled his stethoscope and tongue depressors and such. He decided we were progressing satisfactorily.

It just struck me how odd this was. Our pediatrician made a house call. And we didn't live next to the Waltons or anything - this was San Francisco. And yeah, it was years ago, but not THAT long ago. I wonder how many other people my age ever got a house call.

I never liked Dr O'Gara much, but I didn't really understand why until recently. Ends up he always had a suspicious eye on me, and really, for good reason. My parents took me in to see him when I was three or four because I kept getting bruises on my shins, and nobody could figure out why. Dr O'Gara thought my parents might be abusing me. (Although why they'd take me in to see the doctor if they were seems counterintuitive.) i told the doctor the truth. Yes, they kinda hurt, but no, I didn't know where they were coming from. It wasn't until weeks later that my parents found the stupid truth. I enjoyed riding my tricycle downhill, but there was no real brake or stopping mechanism. So to stop the trike, I'd put my shins in front of the pedals, letting them smack against them until I came to a stop. It stung a bit but didn't really hurt that much. But why I never equated my unorthodox braking system with the "mysterious bruising" on my shins in beyond me. Early signs of gargoyle cluelessness.

I don't know if the doctor really believed this. It DOES seem damn stupid, in retrospect. And as a clumsy child in general, I usually had some sort of other "owie" that the doctor wondered might have been caused by my parents. He finally decided to confront my parents about it. I'm not sure if he was going to simply accuse them of it, or simply "lay out his concerns". But once he had us there, he asked me o go back and wait in the waiting room. I said OK, got up, and proceeded to walk into the door frame. At which point the doctor suddenly thought "Wait - maybe this kid really IS just clumsy as fuck."

So instead of being put into foster care or whatever, they sent me to "get tested". They took me to this industrial complex, put me in a room behind some one-way mirror, and had me walk straight lines, spin around, and pick up pencils over and over. Eventually, they came back with their diagnosis. "Lex has some significant problems with spatial relationships and hand-eye coordination. That said, he's built up an impressive array and variety of compensatory practices in his few years, so that the problems are actually somewhat minimal. We can train him if you wish, but it would mean breaking down everything he built up first, so his minor problems would probably get a lot worse before they got better. It may be best to let him continue compensating on his own." My parents agreed with that assessment.

I sometimes wonder how "fucked up" I am. Not in a bad way, just exactly how off my cognitive skills really are. And how much I'm compensating for them. I'm assuming this is why I slow down at doorways, and why I deliberately let my shoulder or arm brush the walls of corridors from time to time - just gotta find out where the walls are, yo. Is this why, when my glasses start falling off my face, I spastically fling them across the room? An inability to bring my hand up quickly but accurately to where I want it to go? In a true emergency, will I run straight into a wall? Did anything positive come out of this "defect"? Am I more laid back about not having an ideal situation, figuring "I'll fumble through", since that's pretty much how I've had to approach 3-D life? Am I OK with not knowing all the answers to stuff because I've grown up knowing that my eyes were only giving me a vague sketch of the story, and being aware that I could sort the rest if I needed to? And why am I so exceptionally prone to daydreaming and limp creativity? God knows the smart thing to do if you're walking into walls on a regular basis is to shut down the creative center so you can focus on where the fuck you're going. But I'm actually more likely to have my head in the clouds now than I was thirty-five years ago. Just a really slow learner? Or are the two things connected? Since I truly can't 100% trust my eyes, have I trained my mind to keep searching for possibilities?

If so, it's worth the bruises and jettisoned glasses. Many times over.

Lex

 

[xbuzzerx]

This is not the way we ride a tricycle!

 

[Lefty]

I remember the home Dr. visits, I also remember home delivered dairy and the milk

in bottles. Splitting lips on slides, breaking fingers on the merry go round. Report

cards....the principals office as the gates to hell which is where you were when you

got home. Sugar Daddy Candy you licked with 3 or 4 friends. Same with a couple

guys sharing a Dr. Pepper with peanuts in 1 glass bottle. Then one day, some asshat

invented germs and the ACLU (ACLU was a good thing then)

Fuck all Lex, I think we are getting old. Remember your first TV? AM/FM transistor

what about that phone that morphed from the wall to the living room table...rotary

dial and party lines.

 

[refujiunderground]

http://www.lowellsun.com/todaysheadlines/ci_22354581/lowell-native-death-row-va#ixzz2HfoQTSuM

you know shit is real if someone's family is paying for their obituary before their death.

 

[refujiunderground]

there was a dog who said oh no and bingo was his name oh. b-i-n-g-o. b-i-n-g-o. b-i-n-g-o and bingo was his name oh.

 

[xbuzzerx]

^ The first pic made me Picard facepalm so hard. But mostly it was trying not to laugh out loud.

 

[refujiunderground]

Re: Bad Logo

Logo of Catholic Church’s Archdiocesan Youth Commission

Institute Of Oriental Studies

I remember in web design class, we had a good laugh when our teacher showed us those examples

oh god. the OGC one was pretty clever. all the hidden undiscovered sexual inneundo.

who the bald headed man that sounds retarded when he speaks? SHAQ. you damn right.

*5 seconds of jazz instrumental plays*

who is the man that gets love from japan to the motherland??

can you dig it? *5 seconds of jazz instrumental*

shot from free throw just pops on out then you know it's all about, SHAQ..

right on

they say this cat shaq is a bad mother...

shut your mouth.

but i'm talking about shaq and we can dig it.

he's a complicated man BUT no. one. can. stand. him. but. his. women.

THAT'S SHAQ.

 

[G-Lexington]

My partner had a credit card stolen. The first thing the thief used it for: to open an account at ChristianMingle.

Lex

 

[frankfrank]

^ Considering the article, I really...REALLY...wish that it was nonsense.

Unfortunately it's obviously entirely true.

The article kind of whitewashes the whole thing, saying that the cats are killed by slits to the throat. No, the comments say more - they are often boiled and/or skinned alive. It's "believed" that the adrenalin released by the torture makes the meat taste better.

Entirely disgusting.

 

[refujiunderground]

I wanna cock (cock!!!!)
i wanna cock (cock!!!!)
i want a cock (cock!!!!)

 

[refujiunderground]

FUCK OATS by the way. FUCK CHEERIOS. FUCK OATMEAL. goddamn oats hating on a midget's stomach. the fuck a midget ever done to you oatmeal. i eat you and this is what the fuck you do to me? you treat me like shit. chocolate might hurt me after awhile. sugar might too. peanut butter shows me love even though after taking 4 spoonfuls to the heads makes me run to the bathroom about to shit all over myself but i make it to the toilet on time and have been doing so since high school. oats, you been fucking with me. FUCK YOU OATS. FUCK YOU!!!!

 

[refujiunderground]

 

[refujiunderground]

yo..... anybody remember that toy from back in the day like the early 90s where they had like these pieces you could put all over this board and they could light up, they would be like different colors and they glowed in the dark. the commercial song was like "star light, star bright". i forgot the name of the toy. i know somebody in here remembers what that is. one of you people most definitely had it at some point of your lives. help me out here.

 

[JOHN B]

Was cruising thru Youtube......Here is a girl trying to wash off her car windows. At a gas station. with gasoline.......

 

[refujiunderground]

always cracks me up.