DamnYankee
Loyal to the end
Who's your "personal stalker"?
Surgery :(
- Thread starter /MSG/
- Start date
Who's your "personal stalker"?
Awww come on billy, don't get all bent; you are still plenty young enough to get it all back.
What with your personalizing crap from way back in that stupid gun thread you'd think you would not have posted that facebook link...remember you threated to go all irl.
You all start threads about SM or Dixie and get personal all the time. I guess like you he just joins in the milieu of taking shots where they present themselves...eh?
DamnYankee
Loyal to the end
Yeah the lyrics are pretty appropriate. All those "star athletes" in high school that never realized that they would have to do something after graduation.
The second verse is just as good:
I knew a girl that fits this exactly. She was stunning back then, and guys would swoon all over her. She ended up marrying this guy who played on the football team and looked like John Travolta in "Welcome Back Cotter". He also had the IQ of Travolta's character. I saw them both at a party 10 years later and they were completely trashed out. They were the saddest looking pair in the room.
DamnYankee
Loyal to the end
Yeah, I have had the same kind of experience, but sometimes it's also just in the genes you are born with that keep you looking good in your jeans
Well, it'll be good for ya...in all seriousness good luck with the surgery and consider where heavy drinking eventually leads~
charver
You lookin' at my pint?
Look on the bright side, Billy.
At least you're not about to be butchered by a doctor working under the auspices of the horrendous limb-hacking behemoth that is "socialised medicine".
And i'm pretty sure shots don't count as drinking.
/MSG/
Uwaa OmO
I never said whether or not the VA was going to the preform the surgery.
Hm.... I don't think the doctor would agree. But what do doctors know?
Mott the Hoople
Sweet Jane
He had to. Someone had to go fight the war you chickenhawks got us into but were to big a pussies to go fight yourself.If you had spent your formidable years like I did building your brain instead of your muscles you would be better off. Too bad for you.
Minister of Truth
Practically Perfect
He's also implying that I didn't invest in education.
GT: 123
EL: 122
MM: 124
CL: 110
ASVAB: 76
My ASVAB was 80, but only because I got like a 92 on Administrative. I was in the 40s on Electrical and Mechanical, and was decent in the General category. If there was another category, I forget what it was off the top of my head.
My SAT was only a 980, after two attempts (it didn't budge at all, with my math increasing and writing decreasing to cancel out any possible change), and somehow I've never attempted to off myself, but I consider it one of the greatest failures of me, as a person.
I graduated high school with a 3.197 and from college undergrad with a 3.88. It will have dropped to about 3.80 when I finish my master's, though...
Minister of Truth
Practically Perfect
DamnYankee
Loyal to the end
The brain has more power than some douchebag's biceps.
DamnYankee
Loyal to the end
I think stress has a lot to do with it. Take a look at an old liberal; the stress of lying to themselves causes them to get butt-ugly as they age.Yeah, I have had the same kind of experience, but sometimes it's also just in the genes you are born with that keep you looking good in your jeans
DamnYankee
Loyal to the end
Holy shit I never applied myself in high school and I got a 680 just in math alone. :eek3:
W
WinterBorn
Guest
I lettered in Varsity Track and Field three years in a row, played every sport imaginable, hiked the Presidential Range several times, and am still a great athlete in excellent physical condition. As usual, you don't know what the fuck you are talking about.
You learned to run fast. I can see where that would be handy for you.
W
WinterBorn
Guest
You stole personal pics from his FaceBook page? Dude, that is beyond creepy.
DamnYankee
Loyal to the end
Yes, I've dealt with big dumb guys many times who resort to violence when they fail to defend themselves intellectually. As early as elementary school I learned to use my natural speed and superior intellect not simply to avoid them but to torment them even more.
In third grade a sixth grader wanted to beat me up because I made him look like a fool in front of his friends during morning recess, and he vowed to "get me later" because he was too much of a coward to try anything at school. So he chased after me on the way home later that day. I got a good 50 feet in front of him and looked behind to see him tiring, so I slowed down and let him get within 10 feet or so, on the main road with a paved sidewalk. After a half mile or so I led him down a side street with no sidewalks and I ran on the grass which I knew would be wet and slippery since it had rained earlier. After another half-block I headed straight for a large briar bush that I knew was there, slowed up a little bit to get him closer, then did a 90 degree turn right in front of the bush. Big dummy couldn't turn or stop on the wet grass so slid into the bush with a face-plant at his full speed. I ran around the bush and hardly breathing, put my face within a foot of his and laughed at his scratched up, panting face. Then I slapped him and walked home.
Fat Cap'n Billy gets the same treatment here.
In third grade a sixth grader wanted to beat me up because I made him look like a fool in front of his friends during morning recess, and he vowed to "get me later" because he was too much of a coward to try anything at school. So he chased after me on the way home later that day. I got a good 50 feet in front of him and looked behind to see him tiring, so I slowed down and let him get within 10 feet or so, on the main road with a paved sidewalk. After a half mile or so I led him down a side street with no sidewalks and I ran on the grass which I knew would be wet and slippery since it had rained earlier. After another half-block I headed straight for a large briar bush that I knew was there, slowed up a little bit to get him closer, then did a 90 degree turn right in front of the bush. Big dummy couldn't turn or stop on the wet grass so slid into the bush with a face-plant at his full speed. I ran around the bush and hardly breathing, put my face within a foot of his and laughed at his scratched up, panting face. Then I slapped him and walked home.
Fat Cap'n Billy gets the same treatment here.
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