Dominique says:
then what technically literate person would download and install safari?
Dominique says:
so i dont get it
Dominique says:
leave retarded people
Dominique says:
they have an excuse for doing anything
Dominique says:
"why did you do that?"
Dominique says:
"im retarded"
Dominique says:
"oh"
Monday, October 22, 2007
Friday, October 05, 2007
Why IRC sucks
[smiles2] :)
[CruelPanda] hello there
[CruelPanda] Hi, how are You?
[smiles2] I'm fine
[CruelPanda] and how are you?
[smiles2] well thanks
[smiles2] kim, 49, Michigan
[smiles2] divorced, 2 boys
[CruelPanda] hmm
[CruelPanda] I'm younger
[smiles2] yes
[CruelPanda] I'm 22 m, Mauritius
[smiles2] i was in Mauritius once, back when i was in the Navy
[CruelPanda] you were in the navy?
[smiles2] yes, i'm kind of odd
[smiles2] i use to be a Man, had a sex change after the divorce
-
* Added *!*bullxx@adsl-69-209-119-113.dsl.klmzmi.ameritech.net to ignore list
-
[CruelPanda] hello there
[CruelPanda] Hi, how are You?
[smiles2] I'm fine
[CruelPanda] and how are you?
[smiles2] well thanks
[smiles2] kim, 49, Michigan
[smiles2] divorced, 2 boys
[CruelPanda] hmm
[CruelPanda] I'm younger
[smiles2] yes
[CruelPanda] I'm 22 m, Mauritius
[smiles2] i was in Mauritius once, back when i was in the Navy
[CruelPanda] you were in the navy?
[smiles2] yes, i'm kind of odd
[smiles2] i use to be a Man, had a sex change after the divorce
-
* Added *!*bullxx@adsl-69-209-119-113.dsl.klmzmi.ameritech.net to ignore list
-
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Be A Man!
Yukimura: I like white, you see.
Kyo: Red shows so well on it, doesn't it?
I am in absolute awe in front of the man that is Demon Eyes Kyo. His character is not exaggerated - he is no Rambo, yet his cold blood-thirsty look might make the latter crap his pants and run back home whining. I like Kyo not only because of the power and lack of fear that he possesses - but also because of his hidden feelings for Yuya.
This duality fascinates me. To be able to weild the sword, and to be able to truly love. I would be incapable of such a thing - I am either one, or the other. Although I admit that brandishing a Katana would be rather cool, I would never be able to hurt anyone with it - I wouldn't even be able to do it with a regular stick. I hope that will make the people on my hit list feel better.
I wish I were a warrior, fearless before my enemies, never taking a step backwards even when death would smile to me. I wish I could love, and have the courage to fight. I wish I had immense power to protect you, my beloved one.
Power should be granted only to those who can love, and not those who can fight.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
The Lost Treasure
During my quest that would never seem to end, I traveled to many places. Under the sun and in the rain, I kept traveling, with one goal in my mind: find my lost treasure.
One day, tired and desperate, I settled in a lost garden, far, far away. There grew a little flower, singled out from the rest of the blooming plants. Its petals were partly hidden, but anybody could tell how beautiful it would become in the weeks to come.
As if warning me to keep moving, the rain suddenly came. The harsh rain, always reminding me how much my heart longed for my treasure, always forcing me to keep moving. The raindrops were pitilessly bending the little flower, and I thought that life could be harsh at times. I started to walk away, when I heard a voice:
"Please don't leave!"
I turned around and stared at the flower. Had it just spoken to me? I came closer, not sure of what I had heard.
"Please don't leave..."
Her spoken words sounded like a sob, barely audible amidst the raindrops crashing around us.
I was about to protest. I was about to explain that I needed to find my treasure. I wanted to say that I could not stay. I wanted to explain that life was hard... but then a sudden surge of guilt rushed through my heart. Could I be worthy of any treasure if I selfishly left an innocent flower to its death?
And so I sat down, my clothes already wet, and shielded the little flower with my bare hands. For days and days it rained. Raindrops seemed to come from all directions, but I kept my hands frozen over the little flower, protecting her from harm.
The rain was persistent - and was growing harder and harder as the days went by. It seemed to be angry to see me sitting in the same place. I had completely lost count of the days spent in the lost garden, with my arms stretched over my little flower.
One day, tired and sleepy, I closed my eyes for a moment, and tried to forget about my wet clothes. I tried to forget that the rain was here, and that instead warm rays of sunshine were piercing through the clouds, like a divine light bursting through the skies of heaven. I could almost feel it over my hair, I could feel it washing over my face. Birds were singing...
Singing?
I opened my eyes. Something was different. Birds were indeed singing. I was no longer wet - and the rain had disappeared. The garden looked different - it looked even more beautiful than the first time I saw it. Birds were singing, and butterflies were happily dancing around, as if the rain had never been. I felt glad, I felt glad for the other flowers, and for my little flower.
Some flowers seemed to have taken notice of me. Their red luscious petals were screaming for my attention - but I did not take notice. Instead, I started to look for my flower, the flower I had first known, the first flower that had talked to me.
I would never have recognized her, had she not shone every bit of her beauty towards me.
"Thank you," said the little flower.
Her words deeply touched me. I was very glad I had stayed. It felt more than satisfaction for a good action - it was deeper than that. I felt elated, and extremely proud of her.
The other flowers were curiously watching me smile. Suddenly, one of them exclaimed:
"Pick me, pick me! Pick mee!"
The other flowers in the garden did not seem to like it.
"No, don't pick her, pick me! See how beautiful my petals are!"
"No, pick me, pick me, it's me, I want to be your flower!"
"Oh just shut up, I deserve to be picked first! Pick ME!"
All the flowers in the garden seemed to be screaming at the same time. The argument had moved over from whom should be picked first to the beauty of their petals.
My little flower seemed to be quiet, very saddened by the attitude of her friends.
"Won't you pick one of them?" she whispered.
"No, little flower. I will not," I replied.
"Then will you pick me?" she inquired.
"No, little flower. I will not do that either"
Once again, I sat down, ignoring my legs' desire to stretch a little bit more. I smiled at my little flower, and I began to tell her about my treasure.
I had never told anybody about it. I might have said bits and pieces of my story to a few random people, but nobody had ever heard the whole story, from the beginning. I explained how I knew that there was a treasure waiting for me, somewhere. I told her about the fakes I had found, and I told her about my faith - I believed in my treasure, and I knew I would find it someday.
"Then, why don't you go and look for it?"
The question was so simple - yet it made me realize how much I had grown to like this little flower.
"Don't worry about me, little flower. I will stay with you a little bit longer."
The days went by, and we kept talking. I began to worry about her.
"Little flower, what happens to little flowers when they grow older?"
She greeted my question with a moment of silence.
"It depends on how much love they have had."
My little flower did not seem to like this topic of conversation, and we both stayed quiet.
I slept on the ground itself, and she would greet my mornings with her warm petals. Sometimes, at night, I would dream that my flower was gone - I dreamed that she was not there anymore, to greet me in the morning. I would wake up, and there she stood, her petals shining beautifully in the moonlight.
When I woke up on that day, the sun seemed to be shining brighter than usual, and the birds were singing even louder. I smiled and greeted my little flower, like I did every morning.
"Good morning, my beautiful fl..."
My flower was not there anymore.
I felt my heart break. A sudden rush of sadness came over me. I had not known myself to be so sensitive - and so ready to cry. My eyes were already watery with tears which were threatening to pour down to the ground at any moment. I looked on the left and on the right, but there was no little flower - not even a petal left to indicate what had happened. She could not have left - something must have happened to her.
There was somebody else in the garden. I feared for the worse - that person could have picked up my little flower - picked her up to put her in a vase, far away from me. Sadness was quickly replaced by anger.
"Show yourself! What did you do to my flower?"
From nowhere came a beautiful lady, walking with infinite grace, and wearing a dress that seemed to have been woven with petals. She walked towards me, without fear, innocent and fragile. All the flowers turned towards her, and even the birds seemed to be subjugated by her mesmerizing beauty.
"Do you not recognize me? I am your flower, the one you have protected from the rain, and loved so much..."
My heart skipped a beat. My little flower? I looked at her, at her beautiful hair which seemed so much like my little flower's petals.
"Little flower... my little flower, is it..."
My hand gently caressed her face, and I felt the same joy that I felt when I saw my little flower bloom. I came closer, and my lips brushed hers. We kissed - a long-awaited kiss that seemed to last for an eternity in the lost gardens.
I cried a lot on that day. I cried because my little flower had become so beautiful, and I cried even more for I knew I had finally found my treasure.
One day, tired and desperate, I settled in a lost garden, far, far away. There grew a little flower, singled out from the rest of the blooming plants. Its petals were partly hidden, but anybody could tell how beautiful it would become in the weeks to come.
As if warning me to keep moving, the rain suddenly came. The harsh rain, always reminding me how much my heart longed for my treasure, always forcing me to keep moving. The raindrops were pitilessly bending the little flower, and I thought that life could be harsh at times. I started to walk away, when I heard a voice:
"Please don't leave!"
I turned around and stared at the flower. Had it just spoken to me? I came closer, not sure of what I had heard.
"Please don't leave..."
Her spoken words sounded like a sob, barely audible amidst the raindrops crashing around us.
I was about to protest. I was about to explain that I needed to find my treasure. I wanted to say that I could not stay. I wanted to explain that life was hard... but then a sudden surge of guilt rushed through my heart. Could I be worthy of any treasure if I selfishly left an innocent flower to its death?
And so I sat down, my clothes already wet, and shielded the little flower with my bare hands. For days and days it rained. Raindrops seemed to come from all directions, but I kept my hands frozen over the little flower, protecting her from harm.
The rain was persistent - and was growing harder and harder as the days went by. It seemed to be angry to see me sitting in the same place. I had completely lost count of the days spent in the lost garden, with my arms stretched over my little flower.
One day, tired and sleepy, I closed my eyes for a moment, and tried to forget about my wet clothes. I tried to forget that the rain was here, and that instead warm rays of sunshine were piercing through the clouds, like a divine light bursting through the skies of heaven. I could almost feel it over my hair, I could feel it washing over my face. Birds were singing...
Singing?
I opened my eyes. Something was different. Birds were indeed singing. I was no longer wet - and the rain had disappeared. The garden looked different - it looked even more beautiful than the first time I saw it. Birds were singing, and butterflies were happily dancing around, as if the rain had never been. I felt glad, I felt glad for the other flowers, and for my little flower.
Some flowers seemed to have taken notice of me. Their red luscious petals were screaming for my attention - but I did not take notice. Instead, I started to look for my flower, the flower I had first known, the first flower that had talked to me.
I would never have recognized her, had she not shone every bit of her beauty towards me.
"Thank you," said the little flower.
Her words deeply touched me. I was very glad I had stayed. It felt more than satisfaction for a good action - it was deeper than that. I felt elated, and extremely proud of her.
The other flowers were curiously watching me smile. Suddenly, one of them exclaimed:
"Pick me, pick me! Pick mee!"
The other flowers in the garden did not seem to like it.
"No, don't pick her, pick me! See how beautiful my petals are!"
"No, pick me, pick me, it's me, I want to be your flower!"
"Oh just shut up, I deserve to be picked first! Pick ME!"
All the flowers in the garden seemed to be screaming at the same time. The argument had moved over from whom should be picked first to the beauty of their petals.
My little flower seemed to be quiet, very saddened by the attitude of her friends.
"Won't you pick one of them?" she whispered.
"No, little flower. I will not," I replied.
"Then will you pick me?" she inquired.
"No, little flower. I will not do that either"
Once again, I sat down, ignoring my legs' desire to stretch a little bit more. I smiled at my little flower, and I began to tell her about my treasure.
I had never told anybody about it. I might have said bits and pieces of my story to a few random people, but nobody had ever heard the whole story, from the beginning. I explained how I knew that there was a treasure waiting for me, somewhere. I told her about the fakes I had found, and I told her about my faith - I believed in my treasure, and I knew I would find it someday.
"Then, why don't you go and look for it?"
The question was so simple - yet it made me realize how much I had grown to like this little flower.
"Don't worry about me, little flower. I will stay with you a little bit longer."
The days went by, and we kept talking. I began to worry about her.
"Little flower, what happens to little flowers when they grow older?"
She greeted my question with a moment of silence.
"It depends on how much love they have had."
My little flower did not seem to like this topic of conversation, and we both stayed quiet.
I slept on the ground itself, and she would greet my mornings with her warm petals. Sometimes, at night, I would dream that my flower was gone - I dreamed that she was not there anymore, to greet me in the morning. I would wake up, and there she stood, her petals shining beautifully in the moonlight.
When I woke up on that day, the sun seemed to be shining brighter than usual, and the birds were singing even louder. I smiled and greeted my little flower, like I did every morning.
"Good morning, my beautiful fl..."
My flower was not there anymore.
I felt my heart break. A sudden rush of sadness came over me. I had not known myself to be so sensitive - and so ready to cry. My eyes were already watery with tears which were threatening to pour down to the ground at any moment. I looked on the left and on the right, but there was no little flower - not even a petal left to indicate what had happened. She could not have left - something must have happened to her.
There was somebody else in the garden. I feared for the worse - that person could have picked up my little flower - picked her up to put her in a vase, far away from me. Sadness was quickly replaced by anger.
"Show yourself! What did you do to my flower?"
From nowhere came a beautiful lady, walking with infinite grace, and wearing a dress that seemed to have been woven with petals. She walked towards me, without fear, innocent and fragile. All the flowers turned towards her, and even the birds seemed to be subjugated by her mesmerizing beauty.
"Do you not recognize me? I am your flower, the one you have protected from the rain, and loved so much..."
My heart skipped a beat. My little flower? I looked at her, at her beautiful hair which seemed so much like my little flower's petals.
"Little flower... my little flower, is it..."
My hand gently caressed her face, and I felt the same joy that I felt when I saw my little flower bloom. I came closer, and my lips brushed hers. We kissed - a long-awaited kiss that seemed to last for an eternity in the lost gardens.
I cried a lot on that day. I cried because my little flower had become so beautiful, and I cried even more for I knew I had finally found my treasure.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Behind The Mask
Somebody suggested the couch. Instantly, Patrick sent the cushions from the three-seater flying into the air. Nothing there either. The two seater and the corner sofa had already been investigated in vain. They were screwed.
- "Guys, we need to think."
Patrick, Sunny and Tommy rarely deployed any mental effort for whatsoever task. They could go for days without food - but not without cigarettes.
- "Dude, if I had to choose between a cig and a bitch on her fours, I think I'd go for the cig," said Tommy.
Nobody laughed. The three guys sat down on the stripped sofa's hard wood and started to explore the various possibilities available. The lack of money certainly posed a problem.
- "D'you think Jean-Claude would let us have a few ones on credit?"
- "Can't do that. We already owe him two packets dude."
- "Well, I could give it a shot. Lemme go and talk to him. I'll be right back."
At 1 o'clock, Jean-Claude was the only hope for those in need of cigarettes or instant noodles. His shop was on Flic-en-Flac's main road, fifteen minutes away. As Tommy closed the door and walked away, Patrick turned to Sunny with an evil grin on his face.
- "Dude, I have this idea, but it's like real gross you know."
Of the three guys, Patrick was the first one to explore evil possibilities. His plans rarely failed, but usually landed them in trouble a few days later.
- "Can that be worse than the time you stole Shampoo from the Spar supermarket and got caught?"
- "Nah, nah, nothing like that."
- "Spill it dude."
Patrick took in a huge breath. He always did that before explaining extremely evil schemes.
- "We can get a free pack of twenty and a huge bottle of whisky for free, but I think Tommy won't like it."
- "Like, get it right now?"
- "Ya dude, I know a fuck-sure way."
- "We're not going to rob Jean-Claude's, are we? Coz I doubt he'd let us have anything on credit after that."
- "Nah, nah, nothing like that."
- "Are we going to land into trouble?"
- "Yeah, if we screw it up, maybe."
- "Go on, I wanna know."
Patrick folded his arms.
- "D'you remember Roy?"
- "The tramp? That moron died last week dude."
- "Yeah, that's what I'm saying."
Sunny's expression brightened.
- "Shit, you know where he hid his stuff?"
- "Nah, nah, nothing like that."
- "What is it then?"
- "Turned out that his family felt bad about kicking him out of the house and all. They sent him off to the other world with a pack of twenty and bottle of whisky in his coffin."
- "What the fuck man?"
- "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about."
- "Fuck you! You're crazy!"
- "T'was Johnny Walker, the whisky. The black one. In the coffin."
A silence suddenly fell in the room, like a curtain closing after the first act. For Sunny, "Black Johnny Walker" was indeed a strong point, but "coffin" represented an appropriate counter-argument.
An unsuspecting Tommy popped into the room a few minutes later. He stood at the door with a sad look on his face.
- "Guys, bad news. Jean-Claude says we gotta pay him for the two packets we already owe him and..."
- "Nah, never mind about that," said Patrick.
- "We have a plan," explained Sunny.
- "Wow, great guys, I was feeling like we'd never see the end of this."
- "You might not like it though," Patrick announced, while throwing inquisitive looks at Sunny.
- "You tits, I'd do anything to get my hands on a cigarette right now," said a grinning Tommy.
- "That's good news 'cause we're going to dig up a grave," said Sunny in a matter-of-fact voice.
Tommy laughed for a few seconds before getting back to serious mode.
- "No shit, guys, what's the plan?"
- "We're going to dig Roy up, coz there's a pack of cigarettes and a Black Johnny Walker in his coffin."
Tommy's stood frozen, unsure of whether his best friends were serious or not. Patrick got up and disappeared into the kitchen.
- "What? You serious?"
- "Yeah dude, we're going for it," said Sunny.
- "Are you even sure there are cigarettes in his coffin? What if we get caught? Isn't there a cemetary guardian or something? What the fuck guys? How are we going to do that?"
- "Don't worry man, we're gonna be just fine. It's going to work, really," Sunny said in the most convincing tone he could find.
Tommy didn't sound convinced at all. He had his hands on his waist, and looked like he was about to go nuts.
- "Are you fucking out of your minds? I'm not digging Roy up, what the fuck? If we get caught..."
- "That's why you'll stand guard. Stop being a bitch Tommy."
Patrick had reappeared, holding a rope and two shovels.
Flic-en-Flac is a happy town, with vividly-coloured buildings and illuminated hotels. Waiters smile at you when they serve your food, and beautiful bar-tenders always wink when rich, drunk old men ask them out. However, beneath the smiling masks of all happy places lies human sadness, and sometimes lurking evil.
Evil which our three protagonists had already engaged in as the three of them stared at Roy's grave.
- "Guys, I can't believe we're doing this. This is so fucked up."
- "Shut up, Tommy and stand guard. Just whistle if somebody comes round."
Tommy didn't protest at Patrick's command and walked away. His two friends began digging without any idea of how it would all turn out. Fortunately for them, the grass did not seem to pose a big problem on Flic-en-Flac's sandy cemetery ground. A pale moon guided their sweating arms, the both of them looking like mysterious dark demons digging up a long-lost treasure.
Sunny's shovel finally hit wood. It was Roy.
To be continued...
- "Guys, we need to think."
Patrick, Sunny and Tommy rarely deployed any mental effort for whatsoever task. They could go for days without food - but not without cigarettes.
- "Dude, if I had to choose between a cig and a bitch on her fours, I think I'd go for the cig," said Tommy.
Nobody laughed. The three guys sat down on the stripped sofa's hard wood and started to explore the various possibilities available. The lack of money certainly posed a problem.
- "D'you think Jean-Claude would let us have a few ones on credit?"
- "Can't do that. We already owe him two packets dude."
- "Well, I could give it a shot. Lemme go and talk to him. I'll be right back."
At 1 o'clock, Jean-Claude was the only hope for those in need of cigarettes or instant noodles. His shop was on Flic-en-Flac's main road, fifteen minutes away. As Tommy closed the door and walked away, Patrick turned to Sunny with an evil grin on his face.
- "Dude, I have this idea, but it's like real gross you know."
Of the three guys, Patrick was the first one to explore evil possibilities. His plans rarely failed, but usually landed them in trouble a few days later.
- "Can that be worse than the time you stole Shampoo from the Spar supermarket and got caught?"
- "Nah, nah, nothing like that."
- "Spill it dude."
Patrick took in a huge breath. He always did that before explaining extremely evil schemes.
- "We can get a free pack of twenty and a huge bottle of whisky for free, but I think Tommy won't like it."
- "Like, get it right now?"
- "Ya dude, I know a fuck-sure way."
- "We're not going to rob Jean-Claude's, are we? Coz I doubt he'd let us have anything on credit after that."
- "Nah, nah, nothing like that."
- "Are we going to land into trouble?"
- "Yeah, if we screw it up, maybe."
- "Go on, I wanna know."
Patrick folded his arms.
- "D'you remember Roy?"
- "The tramp? That moron died last week dude."
- "Yeah, that's what I'm saying."
Sunny's expression brightened.
- "Shit, you know where he hid his stuff?"
- "Nah, nah, nothing like that."
- "What is it then?"
- "Turned out that his family felt bad about kicking him out of the house and all. They sent him off to the other world with a pack of twenty and bottle of whisky in his coffin."
- "What the fuck man?"
- "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about."
- "Fuck you! You're crazy!"
- "T'was Johnny Walker, the whisky. The black one. In the coffin."
A silence suddenly fell in the room, like a curtain closing after the first act. For Sunny, "Black Johnny Walker" was indeed a strong point, but "coffin" represented an appropriate counter-argument.
An unsuspecting Tommy popped into the room a few minutes later. He stood at the door with a sad look on his face.
- "Guys, bad news. Jean-Claude says we gotta pay him for the two packets we already owe him and..."
- "Nah, never mind about that," said Patrick.
- "We have a plan," explained Sunny.
- "Wow, great guys, I was feeling like we'd never see the end of this."
- "You might not like it though," Patrick announced, while throwing inquisitive looks at Sunny.
- "You tits, I'd do anything to get my hands on a cigarette right now," said a grinning Tommy.
- "That's good news 'cause we're going to dig up a grave," said Sunny in a matter-of-fact voice.
Tommy laughed for a few seconds before getting back to serious mode.
- "No shit, guys, what's the plan?"
- "We're going to dig Roy up, coz there's a pack of cigarettes and a Black Johnny Walker in his coffin."
Tommy's stood frozen, unsure of whether his best friends were serious or not. Patrick got up and disappeared into the kitchen.
- "What? You serious?"
- "Yeah dude, we're going for it," said Sunny.
- "Are you even sure there are cigarettes in his coffin? What if we get caught? Isn't there a cemetary guardian or something? What the fuck guys? How are we going to do that?"
- "Don't worry man, we're gonna be just fine. It's going to work, really," Sunny said in the most convincing tone he could find.
Tommy didn't sound convinced at all. He had his hands on his waist, and looked like he was about to go nuts.
- "Are you fucking out of your minds? I'm not digging Roy up, what the fuck? If we get caught..."
- "That's why you'll stand guard. Stop being a bitch Tommy."
Patrick had reappeared, holding a rope and two shovels.
Flic-en-Flac is a happy town, with vividly-coloured buildings and illuminated hotels. Waiters smile at you when they serve your food, and beautiful bar-tenders always wink when rich, drunk old men ask them out. However, beneath the smiling masks of all happy places lies human sadness, and sometimes lurking evil.
Evil which our three protagonists had already engaged in as the three of them stared at Roy's grave.
- "Guys, I can't believe we're doing this. This is so fucked up."
- "Shut up, Tommy and stand guard. Just whistle if somebody comes round."
Tommy didn't protest at Patrick's command and walked away. His two friends began digging without any idea of how it would all turn out. Fortunately for them, the grass did not seem to pose a big problem on Flic-en-Flac's sandy cemetery ground. A pale moon guided their sweating arms, the both of them looking like mysterious dark demons digging up a long-lost treasure.
Sunny's shovel finally hit wood. It was Roy.
To be continued...
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