Personification Life OOC IX [CLOSED]

[Tsuyoi Tekikoku]

Unless someone uploads a virus.

We did, and she still kicked serious ass.

Well then, Im forgetting things..Ya pesky youngsters, a veteran needs her rest.

[Monfrox]

We did, and she still kicked serious ass.

Well then, Im forgetting things..Ya pesky youngsters, a veteran needs her rest.

No rest for us.

[Tiltjuice]

I LOVE Theseus' ship!

My work buddies are all super computer nuts. I feel lonely being probably the only former med student in the whole building.

My college buddies are all quiet. As in, I don't talk to them anymore. Different scheds.

[Swith Witherward]

[Highfort]

(Image)

This is proof that computers are self-aware and secretly plotting to destroy humanity.

First, they begin with communications.

[Monfrox]

(Image)

I know that feel all too well

[Swith Witherward]

This is proof that computers are self-aware and secretly plotting to destroy humanity.

First, they begin with communications.

It's a conspiracy. I probably would have rage quit NS for the evening, had it happened.

Mon... the dread is dreadful indeed.

[Giovenith]

Or there's so much trolling in the internet these days, it has just become absorbed into the technology itself and is now one with it's nature. That's how it feels to me sometimes. We share your pain, Swithers.

Giovenith's face twisted in annoyance and tightened her grip on the DVD control as she glared down at the pony convulsing on the ground in hysterical laughter. He'd curled up into a tight grey and black ball, occasionally running out of breath and choking on his own giggles, but managing to continue the fit regardless.

"It's not funny," she growled. "It's sweet!"

"It's hi-lari-ous-s-s-s-s...!" Willow stumbled over the word between laughs, delicately trying to push himself up, but again falling under the weight of sheer amusement. He lightly banged the floor a few times while shaking in giggles.

Frustrated, the godling paused the show and set the remote aside so as to better stare down her roommate.

"Okay, okay," Willow cleared his throat and took a deep breath, holding back anymore laughs so he could sit up and hold up his hooves. "Okay. Wait. Wait. Let's go over this again. In that show, the ponies of that show..."

"Willow," she tried to sound threatening, but failed.

"The ponies of that show," he repeated. "Are born, when two rainbows cross paths...?" He could barely finish the sentence before he started snorting into his hooves again. "What the Tartarus! Ahhhh... it's Rainbow Po-"

"Don't you!"

"Rainbow Por-"

"Don't!"

"Hey, it's more wholesome than the truth." He wiped a tear and grinned. "Oh jeeze, oh jeeze. I don't have to explain where-?"

"No, you don't!" She pouted and crossed her arms, looking to side agitated.

"Oh thank Celestia."

"It's just a cartoon, Willow!" she snapped. "What, do you want them to actually explain the truth to small kids?"

"Mmmm, no," he rested his head in his forelegs, and continued to grin. "But they could have saved themselves the unintentional hilarity and avoided the question altogether. Y'know, instead of making rainbow porn."

"Willow!"

"That's what it is!"

"It is not! It's like, like," she searched for a comparison. "Like a fairy tale! You know, like Thumbelina coming out of a flower. It's whimsical, told through the eyes of a child..."

"Really, really, ugly child," he pouted, squinting at the TV with a frown. "Seriously, those drawings are horrifying. So what, it's not how babies are made there, it's just the commonplace lie they tell them in Ugly-Pony-Verse?"

"Maybe! I don't know!"

"I suppose I've heard worse lies about the origin of infants."

"My mom never had to lie," Giovenith huffed white bangs from her eyes, flopping back on the couch. "Because it's not the same. What were you told?"

Willow hummed, tapping his chin...

-Flashback-

"Daddy, where do babies come from?"

Winning Streaks slammed the newspaper down on the kitchen table as the stallion's whole body suddenly paralyzed at the unexpected chipper behind him. Not wanting to, but knowing he had to, he put on a smile and carefully turned around to look at the little grey foal standing behind his chair looking up at him with big, blue, naive eyes.

"Errm, uh, hey buddy," the bluish-grey pony greeted his son, being careful to sound like nothing was wrong. Hopefully there wasn't. There was still a small chance that he'd simply misheard the child. "Uh, what did you say?"

Willow tried to look up at his father, but as usual, his much too long bangs got in the way, and he was forced to peak meekly from behind them. "Where do babies come from?" he asked again, in a tiny voice. "They can't just come from nowhere."

Oh no.

Okay, okay, don't panic, don't let him see your fear, Winning calmed himself in his head, keeping his face blank on the outside. You're good, you've thought about this, you've planned for this. He'd known this day would come eventually, and in the event that it came sooner than expected, the coach had done some forward thinking in order to keep The Question at bay until a more appropriate time presented itself... or at least until the boy was old enough to do research on his own.

Plan A: Change the subject.

"Oh, hey," the father coughed into his hoof, doing his best to make the transition as natural as he could manage. "Willow, hun, did you ever finish collecting those cereal box tops like you wanted?" He tried to muster as much enthusiasm as he could, turning around in his chair (and partially hiding behind the back, as if it could barricade him from this mess). "You know it expires after a while, so you need to hurry up."

This seemed to stall the child’s attention, as his bright eyes lit up in remembrance of the small quest he had taken up before to win a special children's painting easel (decorated with Daring Do) advertised on the box of his Munch-O's. Seeing his little chin tuck low in thought, Winning breathed a sigh of relief, believing that the conversation had been successfully diverted. That was close! There was a small bit of guilt at taking advantage of his child’s underdeveloped attention span, but honestly, wasn't it all for the greater-

"Yeah, I'll do it," Willow said. "But where do babies come from?"

Damn.

This was bad. Winning had been sure that the implied prospect of losing a chance at winning that easel would have easily been deemed a more worthy endeavor to concentrate on, but evidently, the dreaded question of all parents was lodged deep enough into the little one’s brain to jump the obstacle that had been desperately tossed it's way. It wasn't a passing thought, his foal was determined. They'd gone from green to yellow.

Don't panic, he reminded himself, eyes shifting to the side nervously. You can still do this. Plan B.

Plan B: Make it his mother's problem.

Sorry Saphy, the stallion mentally apologized to his wife, before smiling at his son and turning his back to him in an attempt to cut off the line of nonverbal communication. "Um, well, your mother probably knows more about that than me. Why don't you go ask her about it?" He grabbed his glass of orange juice and took a large sip, perhaps too quickly, in an attempt to dissuade the foal from any follow-up questions or protests.

No such luck. "But Mommy's not here," Willow informed his father, a pitch of concern entering his voice and folding his ears.

"What?" Winning was careful not to choke on the juice. "Where'd she go?"

"The post office," the child pursed his lips in growing frustration. "Daddy, Mommy told me that you were the first one to hold me after her and the doctors. So you got to know where babies come from."

Red alert. Oh sweet Celestia, red alert. There was only one option left now. He hadn't wanted it to come this, finding it a bit distasteful and old fashioned, but the stallion felt cornered and under the head-beating heat of a spotlight. The final plan was the only defense left against the truth.

Plan C: Lie.

"Well, you see Willow," Winning began, leaning back in a more comfortable position to give the illusion of self-reassurance in the things he was about to say. "When a mommy and a daddy fall in love, they get a special visit from the stork." Ah yes, classic.

"What’s a stork?" The boy’s blue eyes grew wide with a sort of relief, at last convinced that he was getting the real story.

"It’s a big white bird with long legs," the father continued to explain. “And when two ponies love each other a whooooooole lot, it brings them a bundle with a foal wrapped up in it, and gives it to them to love and help grow up. That's where you and all the little babies in Equestria came from."

Here, the glow in the boy’s eyes dulled, and a skepticism crossed his brow.

"I was carried in the sky by a... bird?" he asked.

"Of course," Winning shrugged, pretending it made sense.

"But daddy," the boy tilted his head, narrowing his eyes in the same way his mother did when she smelled bullshit. "Where do the storks get the babies?"

"What?" That caught him off-guard.

"Where do the storks get the babies?" the son repeated, looking very exasperated that his father seemed so very inattentive today. He plopped down, crossed his little forelegs in front of him, and pouted at the adult through the curtain of his bangs. "They have to get them from somewhere."

Oh crap. Oh crap! Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap... Did that part of the story actually have an answer? Where DID storks get babies? He didn't know! Dammit, dammit, think fast, think fast. What other baby stories did he know? Did his parents ever tell him anything when he was the child’s age? The clock in the Winning’s mind ticked backward, rapidly raking through dusty old memories to see if there was anything that could possibly save his plot. Childhood, yes, a fine time, full of odd fads like skateboarding, the beginning of rap, pet rocks, Cabbage Patch Foals- of course.

"They grow them in a cabbage patch!" he finally said with a slight tone of victory, grinning as wide as he could to sell it.

"What?" The younger pony hopped to his legs, fluttering backward a bit on his immature wings, looking more flabbergasted than ever.

"Yes," he said, now determined to fill any gaps that may have stretched the subject on any longer. "The storks live in their own kingdom far, far, faaaaaar away from Equestria, where they use their special stork magic to grow cabbages that have babies in them. Whenever a mommy and daddy need a baby, they pluck one out and give it to them."

Willow stared at his dad, trying to process what he had been told.

"... But Daddy..." the foal peeped yet again, voice trembling a bit.

Winning resisted the urge to facehoof. "What, buddy? What is it now?"

"Don’t we eat cabbages?" Little bright eyes grew wide, as he suddenly remembered nearly every dinner he'd ever had. His breathing became rapid and his voice even more high-pitched. "Does that mean, we're, we, we, we're eating babies that aren't born yet?"

Now it was Winning’s turn to stare at the child in disbelief at such a preposterous conclusion. He had finally been rendered into a corner, speechless, with no clue on how to combat such a notion.

"... Well, I..." he began.

Too late, a long, glass-shaking shriek exploded from the tiny pony, causing the stallion to clutch his ears in panic. The scream was a siren, signaling the beginning of the deadly storm of waterworks his son was all too infamous for.

"Daddy, I don't want to eat babies!" Willow screamed at his father, then turned around and ran out of the room before Winning could even attempt to reassure him.

A mere few seconds later, a feminine voice followed the woosh of their front door.

"Willow, boy, what's wrong with you?" he heard his wife ask their son. "Why are you crying?"

"Daddy told me where babies come from!"

Silence. The stallion swallowed hard, mentally preparing for the next brutal interrogation that would be storming his way today. Maybe this time he’d refrain from sugarcoating; ridiculous answers tended to put you in ridiculous situations.

-End of Flashback-

"..." Willow shrugged. "Not rainbow porn, I'll tell you that."

Giovenith made a disgusted sound and facepalmed.

[Swith Witherward]

Or there's so much trolling in the internet these days, it has just become absorbed into the technology itself and is now one with it's nature. That's how it feels to me sometimes. We share your pain, Swithers.

Giovenith's face twisted in annoyance and tightened her grip on the DVD control as she glared down at the pony convulsing on the ground in hysterical laughter. He'd curled up into a tight grey and black ball, occasionally running out of breath and choking on his own giggles, but managing to continue the fit regardless.

"It's not funny," she growled. "It's sweet!"

"It's hi-lari-ous-s-s-s-s...!" Willow stumbled over the word between laughs, delicately trying to push himself up, but again falling under the weight of sheer amusement. He lightly banged the floor a few times while shaking in giggles.

Frustrated, the godling paused the show and set the remote aside so as to better stare down her roommate.

"Okay, okay," Willow cleared his throat and took a deep breath, holding back anymore laughs so he could sit up and hold up his hooves. "Okay. Wait. Wait. Let's go over this again. In that show, the ponies of that show..."

"Willow," she tried to sound threatening, but failed.

"The ponies of that show," he repeated. "Are born, when two rainbows cross paths...?" He could barely finish the sentence before he started snorting into his hooves again. "What the Tartarus! Ahhhh... it's Rainbow Po-"

"Don't you!"

"Rainbow Por-"

"Don't!"

"Hey, it's more wholesome than the truth." He wiped a tear and grinned. "Oh jeeze, oh jeeze. I don't have to explain where-?"

"No, you don't!" She pouted and crossed her arms, looking to side agitated.

"Oh thank Celestia."

"It's just a cartoon, Willow!" she snapped. "What, do you want them to actually explain the truth to small kids?"

"Mmmm, no," he rested his head in his forelegs, and continued to grin. "But they could have saved themselves the unintentional hilarity and avoided the question altogether. Y'know, instead of making rainbow porn."

"Willow!"

"That's what it is!"

"It is not! It's like, like," she searched for a comparison. "Like a fairy tale! You know, like Thumbelina coming out of a flower. It's whimsical, told through the eyes of a child..."

"Really, really, ugly child," he pouted, squinting at the TV with a frown. "Seriously, those drawings are horrifying. So what, it's not how babies are made there, it's just the commonplace lie they tell them in Ugly-Pony-Verse?"

"Maybe! I don't know!"

"I suppose I've heard worse lies about the origin of infants."

"My mom never had to lie," Giovenith huffed white bangs from her eyes, flopping back on the couch. "Because it's not the same. What were you told?"

Willow hummed, tapping his chin...

-Flashback-

"Daddy, where do babies come from?"

Winning Streaks slammed the newspaper down on the kitchen table as the stallion's whole body suddenly paralyzed at the unexpected chipper behind him. Not wanting to, but knowing he had to, he put on a smile and carefully turned around to look at the little grey foal standing behind his chair looking up at him with big, blue, naive eyes.

"Errm, uh, hey buddy," the bluish-grey pony greeted his son, being careful to sound like nothing was wrong. Hopefully there wasn't. There was still a small chance that he'd simply misheard the child. "Uh, what did you say?"

Willow tried to look up at his father, but as usual, his much too long bangs got in the way, and he was forced to peak meekly from behind them. "Where do babies come from?" he asked again, in a tiny voice. "They can't just come from nowhere."

Oh no.

Okay, okay, don't panic, don't let him see your fear, Winning calmed himself in his head, keeping his face blank on the outside. You're good, you've thought about this, you've planned for this. He'd known this day would come eventually, and in the event that it came sooner than expected, the coach had done some forward thinking in order to keep The Question at bay until a more appropriate time presented itself... or at least until the boy was old enough to do research on his own.

Plan A: Change the subject.

"Oh, hey," the father coughed into his hoof, doing his best to make the transition as natural as he could manage. "Willow, hun, did you ever finish collecting those cereal box tops like you wanted?" He tried to muster as much enthusiasm as he could, turning around in his chair (and partially hiding behind the back, as if it could barricade him from this mess). "You know it expires after a while, so you need to hurry up."

This seemed to stall the child’s attention, as his bright eyes lit up in remembrance of the small quest he had taken up before to win a special children's painting easel (decorated with Daring Do) advertised on the box of his Munch-O's. Seeing his little chin tuck low in thought, Winning breathed a sigh of relief, believing that the conversation had been successfully diverted. That was close! There was a small bit of guilt at taking advantage of his child’s underdeveloped attention span, but honestly, wasn't it all for the greater-

"Yeah, I'll do it," Willow said. "But where do babies come from?"

Damn.

This was bad. Winning had been sure that the implied prospect of losing a chance at winning that easel would have easily been deemed a more worthy endeavor to concentrate on, but evidently, the dreaded question of all parents was lodged deep enough into the little one’s brain to jump the obstacle that had been desperately tossed it's way. It wasn't a passing thought, his foal was determined. They'd gone from green to yellow.

Don't panic, he reminded himself, eyes shifting to the side nervously. You can still do this. Plan B.

Plan B: Make it his mother's problem.

Sorry Saphy, the stallion mentally apologized to his wife, before smiling at his son and turning his back to him in an attempt to cut off the line of nonverbal communication. "Um, well, your mother probably knows more about that than me. Why don't you go ask her about it?" He grabbed his glass of orange juice and took a large sip, perhaps too quickly, in an attempt to dissuade the foal from any follow-up questions or protests.

No such luck. "But Mommy's not here," Willow informed his father, a pitch of concern entering his voice and folding his ears.

"What?" Winning was careful not to choke on the juice. "Where'd she go?"

"The post office," the child pursed his lips in growing frustration. "Daddy, Mommy told me that you were the first one to hold me after her and the doctors. So you got to know where babies come from."

Red alert. Oh sweet Celestia, red alert. There was only one option left now. He hadn't wanted it to come this, finding it a bit distasteful and old fashioned, but the stallion felt cornered and under the head-beating heat of a spotlight. The final plan was the only defense left against the truth.

Plan C: Lie.

"Well, you see Willow," Winning began, leaning back in a more comfortable position to give the illusion of self-reassurance in the things he was about to say. "When a mommy and a daddy fall in love, they get a special visit from the stork." Ah yes, classic.

"What’s a stork?" The boy’s blue eyes grew wide with a sort of relief, at last convinced that he was getting the real story.

"It’s a big white bird with long legs," the father continued to explain. “And when two ponies love each other a whooooooole lot, it brings them a bundle with a foal wrapped up in it, and gives it to them to love and help grow up. That's where you and all the little babies in Equestria came from."

Here, the glow in the boy’s eyes dulled, and a skepticism crossed his brow.

"I was carried in the sky by a... bird?" he asked.

"Of course," Winning shrugged, pretending it made sense.

"But daddy," the boy tilted his head, narrowing his eyes in the same way his mother did when she smelled bullshit. "Where do the storks get the babies?"

"What?" That caught him off-guard.

"Where do the storks get the babies?" the son repeated, looking very exasperated that his father seemed so very inattentive today. He plopped down, crossed his little forelegs in front of him, and pouted at the adult through the curtain of his bangs. "They have to get them from somewhere."

Oh crap. Oh crap! Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap... Did that part of the story actually have an answer? Where DID storks get babies? He didn't know! Dammit, dammit, think fast, think fast. What other baby stories did he know? Did his parents ever tell him anything when he was the child’s age? The clock in the Winning’s mind ticked backward, rapidly raking through dusty old memories to see if there was anything that could possibly save his plot. Childhood, yes, a fine time, full of odd fads like skateboarding, the beginning of rap, pet rocks, Cabbage Patch Foals- of course.

"They grow them in a cabbage patch!" he finally said with a slight tone of victory, grinning as wide as he could to sell it.

"What?" The younger pony hopped to his legs, fluttering backward a bit on his immature wings, looking more flabbergasted than ever.

"Yes," he said, now determined to fill any gaps that may have stretched the subject on any longer. "The storks live in their own kingdom far, far, faaaaaar away from Equestria, where they use their special stork magic to grow cabbages that have babies in them. Whenever a mommy and daddy need a baby, they pluck one out and give it to them."

Willow stared at his dad, trying to process what he had been told.

"... But Daddy..." the foal peeped yet again, voice trembling a bit.

Winning resisted the urge to facehoof. "What, buddy? What is it now?"

"Don’t we eat cabbages?" Little bright eyes grew wide, as he suddenly remembered nearly every dinner he'd ever had. His breathing became rapid and his voice even more high-pitched. "Does that mean, we're, we, we, we're eating babies that aren't born yet?"

Now it was Winning’s turn to stare at the child in disbelief at such a preposterous conclusion. He had finally been rendered into a corner, speechless, with no clue on how to combat such a notion.

"... Well, I..." he began.

Too late, a long, glass-shaking shriek exploded from the tiny pony, causing the stallion to clutch his ears in panic. The scream was a siren, signaling the beginning of the deadly storm of waterworks his son was all too infamous for.

"Daddy, I don't want to eat babies!" Willow screamed at his father, then turned around and ran out of the room before Winning could even attempt to reassure him.

A mere few seconds later, a feminine voice followed the woosh of their front door.

"Willow, boy, what's wrong with you?" he heard his wife ask their son. "Why are you crying?"

"Daddy told me where babies come from!"

Silence. The stallion swallowed hard, mentally preparing for the next brutal interrogation that would be storming his way today. Maybe this time he’d refrain from sugarcoating; ridiculous answers tended to put you in ridiculous situations.

-End of Flashback-

"..." Willow shrugged. "Not rainbow porn, I'll tell you that."

Giovenith made a disgusted sound and facepalmed.

viewtopic.php?p=23284538#p23284538

Someone really should post that in the NSG "awesome posts" thread.

You have the best timing for comedy.

[Giovenith]

D'aw, tank ye!

[Tiltjuice]

Or there's so much trolling in the internet]

Funny you should mention that because ARHGHHJGHASKJLDGHLAKDHGSLKSD

It's a DAMN GAME.

[Monfrox]

Or there's so much trolling in the internet]

Funny you should mention that because ARHGHHJGHASKJLDGHLAKDHGSLKSD

It's a DAMN GAME.

Tilt, welcome to the internet. The internet is serious business. Nothing is ever "just a game".

Just like when how you go to battle in Men of War Assault Squad 2 against a guy who says "I'd only ever played it for an hour and that was a year ago" and lies because by "a year ago" he meant "last December" and by "an hour" he meant "I'd also played the first Men of War Assault Squad but I played 23 hours total of that and the only difference between those two games it updated graphics and voices" and you have about as much experience with the games as the next guy does and know even less about what to do because all you've ever played for RTS's is Halo Wars and Company of Heroes and so you get really PISSED OFF when everything you try to attack him with gets wiped out because he counters it so perfectly that you have no units except a supply truck and he's running around with a Panzer III, a scout car, a grenadier squad, and an AT gun and crew and it seems like no matter what you do you can't win and so the only obvious reaction is to shout numerous expletives and insult everyone in his family line because you've been had.

p.s. Giov, 11/10. Will read through latter half when finished with movie.

[Tiltjuice]

Funny you should mention that because ARHGHHJGHASKJLDGHLAKDHGSLKSD

It's a DAMN GAME.

Tilt, welcome to the internet. The internet is serious business. Nothing is ever "just a game".

Just like when how you go to battle in Men of War Assault Squad 2 against a guy who says "I'd only ever played it for an hour and that was a year ago" and lies because by "a year ago" he meant "last December" and by "an hour" he meant "I'd also played the first Men of War Assault Squad but I played 23 hours total of that and the only difference between those two games it updated graphics and voices" and you have about as much experience with the games as the next guy does and know even less about what to do because all you've ever played for RTS's is Halo Wars and Company of Heroes and so you get really PISSED OFF when everything you try to attack him with gets wiped out because he counters it so perfectly that you have no units except a supply truck and he's running around with a Panzer III, a scout car, a grenadier squad, and an AT gun and crew and it seems like no matter what you do you can't win and so the only obvious reaction is to shout numerous expletives and insult everyone in his family line because you've been had.

p.s. Giov, 11/10. Will read through latter half when finished with movie.

I'm not naive.

asdasfas

[Highfort]

Data structures are killing me. Literally, there is a data structure behind me stabbing me in the back repeatedly while I try to debug my code.

[Monfrox]

Tilt, welcome to the internet. The internet is serious business. Nothing is ever "just a game".

Just like when how you go to battle in Men of War Assault Squad 2 against a guy who says "I'd only ever played it for an hour and that was a year ago" and lies because by "a year ago" he meant "last December" and by "an hour" he meant "I'd also played the first Men of War Assault Squad but I played 23 hours total of that and the only difference between those two games it updated graphics and voices" and you have about as much experience with the games as the next guy does and know even less about what to do because all you've ever played for RTS's is Halo Wars and Company of Heroes and so you get really PISSED OFF when everything you try to attack him with gets wiped out because he counters it so perfectly that you have no units except a supply truck and he's running around with a Panzer III, a scout car, a grenadier squad, and an AT gun and crew and it seems like no matter what you do you can't win and so the only obvious reaction is to shout numerous expletives and insult everyone in his family line because you've been had.

p.s. Giov, 11/10. Will read through latter half when finished with movie.

I'm not naive.

asdasfas

I was livid. Absolutely livid. I have never quit a game that fast before.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Data structures are killing me. Literally, there is a data structure behind me stabbing me in the back repeatedly while I try to debug my code.

Well, at least you're not hanging from the root of a tree.

[The BranRiech]

Back from the show!

We went to this upscale Italian place for dinner, and I had some of the best food I'd ever remembered having in a while besides the first time I tried Shawarma. Then the show was 2 1/2 hours long, and he spent them talking about cosmic perspectives.

Tyson has this really good way of speaking to crowds that make us all feel not dumb. It was awesome.

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

Or there's so much trolling in the internet]

Funny you should mention that because ARHGHHJGHASKJLDGHLAKDHGSLKSD

It's a DAMN GAME.

XD
*high threes Tilt*
A game where trolling is not only a legitimate strategy, but the only strategy that works.

Back from the show!

We went to this upscale Italian place for dinner, and I had some of the best food I'd ever remembered having in a while besides the first time I tried Shawarma. Then the show was 2 1/2 hours long, and he spent them talking about cosmic perspectives.

Tyson has this really good way of speaking to crowds that make us all feel not dumb. It was awesome.

So lucky Bran

[Highfort]

Back from the show!

We went to this upscale Italian place for dinner, and I had some of the best food I'd ever remembered having in a while besides the first time I tried Shawarma. Then the show was 2 1/2 hours long, and he spent them talking about cosmic perspectives.

Tyson has this really good way of speaking to crowds that make us all feel not dumb. It was awesome.

Tyson, like Nye and other great science educators, has the ability to be simultaneously interesting and informative without being patronizing. Always assume your audience is ignorant; never assume they are stupid.

You're a lucky man to see the giant himself in person.

[Tiltjuice]

Funny you should mention that because ARHGHHJGHASKJLDGHLAKDHGSLKSD

It's a DAMN GAME.

XD
*high threes Tilt*
A game where trolling is not only a legitimate strategy, but the only strategy that works.

Glonous! *high threes NVE*

[Fvaarniimar]

(Image)

Was working on a factbook yesterday... Guess whose phone logged her out AND deleted clipboard contents?! Sooooooooo made that face...

@ Gio: Oh man, that was a hoot!

@Tilt re: Th's ship: Was a ship part part of the ship when it was owned by Theseus?
If yes: it is a part of Theseus' ship.
If no: it is not.

Also, rough draft of play for IB Theatre: due in a week. Eeeeeeeeeeek!

@Bran: Sounds very cool.

[Tiltjuice]

Oh noes! IB Theatre!

Swithers, if MB sniffs Neste, what will he smell?

[Swith Witherward]

Funny you should mention that because ARHGHHJGHASKJLDGHLAKDHGSLKSD

It's a DAMN GAME.

Tilt, welcome to the internet. The internet is serious business. Nothing is ever "just a game".

Just like when how you go to battle in Men of War Assault Squad 2 against a guy who says "I'd only ever played it for an hour and that was a year ago" and lies because by "a year ago" he meant "last December" and by "an hour" he meant "I'd also played the first Men of War Assault Squad but I played 23 hours total of that and the only difference between those two games it updated graphics and voices" and you have about as much experience with the games as the next guy does and know even less about what to do because all you've ever played for RTS's is Halo Wars and Company of Heroes and so you get really PISSED OFF when everything you try to attack him with gets wiped out because he counters it so perfectly that you have no units except a supply truck and he's running around with a Panzer III, a scout car, a grenadier squad, and an AT gun and crew and it seems like no matter what you do you can't win and so the only obvious reaction is to shout numerous expletives and insult everyone in his family line because you've been had.

p.s. Giov, 11/10. Will read through latter half when finished with movie.

Internet addiction disorder
(redirected from Cyber psychosis)
A maladaptive pattern of Internet use, characterised by psychological dependence, withdrawal symptoms when off-line for prolonged periods, loss of control, compulsive behaviour, and clinically significant impairment of normal social interactions or distress
Adverse effects Cyberaffairs, addiction to online games, violence following financial miscalculations by day traders, and other risky behaviour



EeeeeEEEEEE!

*runs*

[Tiltjuice]

Oh no you di -

I can haz cheezburger!

[Northwest Slobovia]

Tilt, welcome to the internet. The internet is serious business. Nothing is ever "just a game".

Just like when how you go to battle in Men of War Assault Squad 2 against a guy who says "I'd only ever played it for an hour and that was a year ago" and lies because by "a year ago" he meant "last December" and by "an hour" he meant "I'd also played the first Men of War Assault Squad but I played 23 hours total of that and the only difference between those two games it updated graphics and voices" and you have about as much experience with the games as the next guy does and know even less about what to do because all you've ever played for RTS's is Halo Wars and Company of Heroes and so you get really PISSED OFF when everything you try to attack him with gets wiped out because he counters it so perfectly that you have no units except a supply truck and he's running around with a Panzer III, a scout car, a grenadier squad, and an AT gun and crew and it seems like no matter what you do you can't win and so the only obvious reaction is to shout numerous expletives and insult everyone in his family line because you've been had.

p.s. Giov, 11/10. Will read through latter half when finished with movie.

Internet addiction disorder
(redirected from Cyber psychosis)
A maladaptive pattern of Internet use, characterised by psychological dependence, withdrawal symptoms when off-line for prolonged periods, loss of control, compulsive behaviour, and clinically significant impairment of normal social interactions or distress
Adverse effects Cyberaffairs, addiction to online games, violence following financial miscalculations by day traders, and other risky behaviour



EeeeeEEEEEE!

*runs*

*hmph* I'm not addicted! I can ragequit any time I want!