[12:19:53] B.D. Lovecraft: LEADER ROXANNE would like to battle.
[12:19:56] B.D. Lovecraft: LEADER ROXANNE sent out GEODUDE.
[12:20:02] B.D. Lovecraft: Go, MUDKIP!
[12:20:09] Amirudward James Olmos: Roxanne's gonna get raped.
[12:20:27] B.D. Lovecraft: What should MUDKIP do? FIGHT>BAG>POKeMON>RUN
[12:20:32] Amirudward James Olmos: FIGHT
[12:20:48] B.D. Lovecraft: TACKLE, GROWL, MUD-SLAP, WATER GUN?
[12:20:52] Amirudward James Olmos: GROWL
[12:21:03] B.D. Lovecraft: I'm not taking suggestions from you anymore.
Showing posts with label Friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friends. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
Rafiq & Mimie: The Married Life
Rafiq Razali, and Mimie Kamaruddin are as of today, Friday, the 11th of December 2009, married!
Many congratulations, and many years and years and years of happiness wished!
Many congratulations, and many years and years and years of happiness wished!
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Mr. Holland's Magical Scarf & Pants
Brian Holland, of Melbourne, Australia, is a very lovely person, fond of using strange 'Strine colloquialisms ("YOU FAGGOT BOGAN, POST THESE PICS ON FACE"). We back-and-forth on Facebook — this is indeed the 'Face' he refers to—, and one time he even added my mom. My mom very clearly rejected his friendship.
Yesterday, we webcammed. He wanted to show me his fancy new scarf, made by a mutual friend, the awesome Nikki. It really is nice, so, yeah, why not? I wanted to show him my trenchcoat, too. My trenchcoat is just as awesome, even if it weren't made by mutual friends.
He showed me this.
It is quite a nice scarf.
Then things get weird. He wants to take his pants off and show me his Australian — what's the 'Strine word for it? 'Willy'? — willy.
Yeah.
This is the only safe-for-work picture. Hi, Mom! Do you see what you're missing?
Stranger still, once he was done flashing me, he invited his dad to speak to the funny sounding guy in Malaysia. It wasn't in the least awkward, and I managed a "O hai Mr. Holland." (This Mr. Holland isn't the same as the Mr. Holland on the title of this post.) On 'Face', though, he posted better photos. Here they are. Peruse them at your own risk.
Yes, that's freaking Ari Gold on his shirt. We hugged it out.
Oh, and this is me in my trenchcoat.
Yesterday, we webcammed. He wanted to show me his fancy new scarf, made by a mutual friend, the awesome Nikki. It really is nice, so, yeah, why not? I wanted to show him my trenchcoat, too. My trenchcoat is just as awesome, even if it weren't made by mutual friends.
He showed me this.
It is quite a nice scarf.
Then things get weird. He wants to take his pants off and show me his Australian — what's the 'Strine word for it? 'Willy'? — willy.
Yeah.
This is the only safe-for-work picture. Hi, Mom! Do you see what you're missing?
Stranger still, once he was done flashing me, he invited his dad to speak to the funny sounding guy in Malaysia. It wasn't in the least awkward, and I managed a "O hai Mr. Holland." (This Mr. Holland isn't the same as the Mr. Holland on the title of this post.) On 'Face', though, he posted better photos. Here they are. Peruse them at your own risk.
Yes, that's freaking Ari Gold on his shirt. We hugged it out.
Oh, and this is me in my trenchcoat.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
RELOADING!: Or, How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Pipe Bomb
I made Roslyn play Left4Dead with me this evening when she was supposed to be studying. We played the No Mercy campaign. She was a horrible teammate: statistics at the end of each round would show that she healed less people than Bill or Zoey (both bots) or Louis (me). She also hid away the most, dodging any major gunfire action as seen with her low offense and defense score. Ironically, despite this she took the most damage of us all.
"Wait, wait wait wait wait wait!" I called out, shouting to her ear - she was sitting beside me, but my headphones blasted the sound effects straight into my eardrums. "That's a Wit--"
My words were cut by her rushing and shooting straight at the crying white- and blood-clad whore. "ARGHARGHARGH," I eloquently challenged my sister, waiting as she got knocked down and incapacitated, needing my immediate assistance. Bill and Zoey, hanging out at the back, emptied their clips into Madam Witch's face. It took about five full M4 clips, total, to take that bitch down.
We went on. Past the gas station, past the warehouses, into the hospital.
At the very final showdown on the hospital roof we positioned ourselves for the incoming horde. The Tank came. The Tank knocked us down dead. The hordes of Infected ran and ran and clawed and killed. The Tank knocked Zoey straight off the hospital roof. A Hunter pinned Bill, and I had no way of getting to Bill in time. So time was mostly spent shouting, "GET TO BILL, GET TO BILL, HE'S BEING PINNED DOWN". She was being attacked by too many zombies to care. Oh well. We all died and restarted.
We all died and restarted.
We all died and restarted.
And then, one time, the chopper made its landing, waiting for us to get there. We were separated by about 150 meters of distance, and three times that number of zombies. This was bad. This was bad, bad, bad. Roslyn ran straight for the chopper but got intercepted by a Hunter. I got knocked flat off and fell straight down.
We all died and restarted.
The next time, though, we came to success! Nobody died. As the chopper touched down, Zoey and Roslyn (in case your powers of deduction fail you, this would make her Francis) ran straight to it, saved and safe in the News 5 helicopter. I saw the Tank coming. "EVERYBODY GET ON!" I shouted, the point moot mainly because it was only Bill who had dumbly decided to stay on to fight the horde. "I'LL COVER YOU!"
It was a heroic last stand kind of thing.
Then I threw a molotov. The flames struck me, and that was a bad thing. Worse was that the Tank was coming straight for me, and it knocked me, yet again, straight off the building.
As I fell down I saw the helicopter rise away. I felt horrified, watching the chopper leave! Then, probably empathizing with the character persona I was playing... I realized that he must've felt pretty proud that the other three Survivors made it. Even the noob that was my sister.
Even if I hadn't. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--
"Wait, wait wait wait wait wait!" I called out, shouting to her ear - she was sitting beside me, but my headphones blasted the sound effects straight into my eardrums. "That's a Wit--"
My words were cut by her rushing and shooting straight at the crying white- and blood-clad whore. "ARGHARGHARGH," I eloquently challenged my sister, waiting as she got knocked down and incapacitated, needing my immediate assistance. Bill and Zoey, hanging out at the back, emptied their clips into Madam Witch's face. It took about five full M4 clips, total, to take that bitch down.
We went on. Past the gas station, past the warehouses, into the hospital.
At the very final showdown on the hospital roof we positioned ourselves for the incoming horde. The Tank came. The Tank knocked us down dead. The hordes of Infected ran and ran and clawed and killed. The Tank knocked Zoey straight off the hospital roof. A Hunter pinned Bill, and I had no way of getting to Bill in time. So time was mostly spent shouting, "GET TO BILL, GET TO BILL, HE'S BEING PINNED DOWN". She was being attacked by too many zombies to care. Oh well. We all died and restarted.
We all died and restarted.
We all died and restarted.
And then, one time, the chopper made its landing, waiting for us to get there. We were separated by about 150 meters of distance, and three times that number of zombies. This was bad. This was bad, bad, bad. Roslyn ran straight for the chopper but got intercepted by a Hunter. I got knocked flat off and fell straight down.
We all died and restarted.
The next time, though, we came to success! Nobody died. As the chopper touched down, Zoey and Roslyn (in case your powers of deduction fail you, this would make her Francis) ran straight to it, saved and safe in the News 5 helicopter. I saw the Tank coming. "EVERYBODY GET ON!" I shouted, the point moot mainly because it was only Bill who had dumbly decided to stay on to fight the horde. "I'LL COVER YOU!"
It was a heroic last stand kind of thing.
Then I threw a molotov. The flames struck me, and that was a bad thing. Worse was that the Tank was coming straight for me, and it knocked me, yet again, straight off the building.
As I fell down I saw the helicopter rise away. I felt horrified, watching the chopper leave! Then, probably empathizing with the character persona I was playing... I realized that he must've felt pretty proud that the other three Survivors made it. Even the noob that was my sister.
Even if I hadn't. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--
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