Welcome back Scotty!

[DV81]

HeadlessBarbie. Scotty's ex. He smashed up her place. As far as I know, there's still a warrant out for him in CO.

now if only you took care of your own life instead of pathetically living vicariously through others here.

btw, I didn't do damage to her place, her nightmarish kids fucked up the place and she tried to pin it on me.
as for the warrant, I guess that's another lie the hag told you.

 

[Sean]

Is that based on a passage from 1984?

Alice in Wonderland.

she likes your type- toothless and alcoholic.

No, I live in an apartment with my gf. Are you coming onto me?

I still have all my own teeth, thanks, Scotty. And I like a drink on a Friday night to unwind from a hard week's work. You remember work, don't you?

As for the apartment and gf, does she have a multiplicity of higher degrees, too?

 

[Byron In Exile]

Alice in Wonderland.

No, Through the Looking Glass, Chapter V.

 

[Sean]

now if only you took care of your own life instead of pathetically living vicariously through others here.

btw, I didn't do damage to her place, her nightmarish kids fucked up the place and she tried to pin it on me.
as for the warrant, I guess that's another lie the hag told you.

My life is going swimmingly, atm, thanks for asking.

And as for lies, hmm, I wonder who has more verisimilitude, you or her. Shall we have a poll?

 

[DV81]

Alice in Wonderland.


I still have all my own teeth, thanks, Scotty. And I like a drink on a Friday night to unwind from a hard week's work. You remember work, don't you?

As for the apartment and gf, does she have a multiplicity of higher degrees, too?

I work harder than your ass ever has and my gf does have a degree in nursing and if you wondered into the hospital after pissing off the wrong person, she would refuse to help you. She is smart like that.

so, did you fuck HB? The two of you are meant for each other.

 

[Sean]

No, Through the Looking Glass, Chapter V.

I'll take your word for it, it's been decades since I read either of them.

 

[Sean]

I work harder than your ass ever has and my gf does have a degree in nursing and if you wondered into the hospital after pissing off the wrong person, she would refuse to help you. She is smart like that.

so, did you fuck HB? The two of you are meant for each other.

ROFL. I've never met her, Scotty boy.

And if your imaginary gf refuses to treat people when they "wonder" in, she won't have a job very long. Then she'll be just like you!

 

[DV81]

ROFL. I've never met her, Scotty boy.

And if your imaginary gf refuses to treat people when they "wonder" in, she won't have a job very long. Then she'll be just like you!

been working since I was 14, troll.

oh no! a spelling mistake! whatever shall I do? Fuck off, you alkie twat.

 

[Byron In Exile]

I'll take your word for it, it's been decades since I read either of them.

I submit as evidence:

She caught the shawl as she spoke, and looked about for the owner: in
another moment the White Queen came running wildly through the wood,
with both arms stretched out wide, as if she were flying, and Alice very
civilly went to meet her with the shawl.

'I'm very glad I happened to be in the way,' Alice said, as she helped
her to put on her shawl again.

The White Queen only looked at her in a helpless frightened sort of way,
and kept repeating something in a whisper to herself that sounded like
'bread-and-butter, bread-and-butter,' and Alice felt that if there was
to be any conversation at all, she must manage it herself. So she began
rather timidly: 'Am I addressing the White Queen?'

'Well, yes, if you call that a-dressing,' The Queen said. 'It isn't MY
notion of the thing, at all.'

Alice thought it would never do to have an argument at the very
beginning of their conversation, so she smiled and said, 'If your
Majesty will only tell me the right way to begin, I'll do it as well as
I can.'

'But I don't want it done at all!' groaned the poor Queen. 'I've been
a-dressing myself for the last two hours.'

It would have been all the better, as it seemed to Alice, if she had got
some one else to dress her, she was so dreadfully untidy. 'Every
single thing's crooked,' Alice thought to herself, 'and she's all over
pins!--may I put your shawl straight for you?' she added aloud.

'I don't know what's the matter with it!' the Queen said, in a
melancholy voice. 'It's out of temper, I think. I've pinned it here, and
I've pinned it there, but there's no pleasing it!'

'It CAN'T go straight, you know, if you pin it all on one side,' Alice
said, as she gently put it right for her; 'and, dear me, what a state
your hair is in!'

'The brush has got entangled in it!' the Queen said with a sigh. 'And I
lost the comb yesterday.'

Alice carefully released the brush, and did her best to get the hair
into order. 'Come, you look rather better now!' she said, after altering
most of the pins. 'But really you should have a lady's maid!'

'I'm sure I'll take you with pleasure!' the Queen said. 'Twopence a
week, and jam every other day.'

Alice couldn't help laughing, as she said, 'I don't want you to hire
ME--and I don't care for jam.'

'It's very good jam,' said the Queen.

'Well, I don't want any TO-DAY, at any rate.'

'You couldn't have it if you DID want it,' the Queen said. 'The rule is,
jam to-morrow and jam yesterday--but never jam to-day.'

'It MUST come sometimes to "jam to-day,"' Alice objected.

'No, it can't,' said the Queen. 'It's jam every OTHER day: to-day isn't
any OTHER day, you know.'

'I don't understand you,' said Alice. 'It's dreadfully confusing!'

'That's the effect of living backwards,' the Queen said kindly: 'it
always makes one a little giddy at first--'

'Living backwards!' Alice repeated in great astonishment. 'I never heard
of such a thing!'

'--but there's one great advantage in it, that one's memory works both
ways.'

'I'm sure MINE only works one way,' Alice remarked. 'I can't remember
things before they happen.'

'It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,' the Queen
remarked.

'What sort of things do YOU remember best?' Alice ventured to ask.

'Oh, things that happened the week after next,' the Queen replied in a
careless tone. 'For instance, now,' she went on, sticking a large piece
of plaster [band-aid] on her finger as she spoke, 'there's the King's
Messenger. He's in prison now, being punished: and the trial doesn't
even begin till next Wednesday: and of course the crime comes last of
all.'

'Suppose he never commits the crime?' said Alice.

'That would be all the better, wouldn't it?' the Queen said, as she
bound the plaster round her finger with a bit of ribbon.

Alice felt there was no denying THAT. 'Of course it would be all
the better,' she said: 'but it wouldn't be all the better his being
punished.'

'You're wrong THERE, at any rate,' said the Queen: 'were YOU ever
punished?'

'Only for faults,' said Alice.

'And you were all the better for it, I know!' the Queen said
triumphantly.

'Yes, but then I HAD done the things I was punished for,' said Alice:
'that makes all the difference.'

'But if you HADN'T done them,' the Queen said, 'that would have been
better still; better, and better, and better!' Her voice went higher
with each 'better,' till it got quite to a squeak at last.

Alice was just beginning to say 'There's a mistake somewhere--,' when
the Queen began screaming so loud that she had to leave the sentence
unfinished. 'Oh, oh, oh!' shouted the Queen, shaking her hand about as
if she wanted to shake it off. 'My finger's bleeding! Oh, oh, oh, oh!'

Her screams were so exactly like the whistle of a steam-engine, that
Alice had to hold both her hands over her ears.

'What IS the matter?' she said, as soon as there was a chance of making
herself heard. 'Have you pricked your finger?'

'I haven't pricked it YET,' the Queen said, 'but I soon shall--oh, oh,
oh!'

'When do you expect to do it?' Alice asked, feeling very much inclined
to laugh.

'When I fasten my shawl again,' the poor Queen groaned out: 'the brooch
will come undone directly. Oh, oh!' As she said the words the brooch
flew open, and the Queen clutched wildly at it, and tried to clasp it
again.

'Take care!' cried Alice. 'You're holding it all crooked!' And she
caught at the brooch; but it was too late: the pin had slipped, and the
Queen had pricked her finger.

'That accounts for the bleeding, you see,' she said to Alice with a
smile. 'Now you understand the way things happen here.'

'But why don't you scream now?' Alice asked, holding her hands ready to
put over her ears again.

'Why, I've done all the screaming already,' said the Queen. 'What would
be the good of having it all over again?'

By this time it was getting light. 'The crow must have flown away, I
think,' said Alice: 'I'm so glad it's gone. I thought it was the night
coming on.'

'I wish _I_ could manage to be glad!' the Queen said. 'Only I never
can remember the rule. You must be very happy, living in this wood, and
being glad whenever you like!'

'Only it is so VERY lonely here!' Alice said in a melancholy voice; and
at the thought of her loneliness two large tears came rolling down her
cheeks.

'Oh, don't go on like that!' cried the poor Queen, wringing her hands in
despair. 'Consider what a great girl you are. Consider what a long way
you've come to-day. Consider what o'clock it is. Consider anything, only
don't cry!'

Alice could not help laughing at this, even in the midst of her tears.
'Can YOU keep from crying by considering things?' she asked.

'That's the way it's done,' the Queen said with great decision: 'nobody
can do two things at once, you know. Let's consider your age to begin
with--how old are you?'

'I'm seven and a half exactly.'

'You needn't say "exactually,"' the Queen remarked: 'I can believe
it without that. Now I'll give YOU something to believe. I'm just one
hundred and one, five months and a day.'

'I can't believe THAT!' said Alice.

'Can't you?' the Queen said in a pitying tone. 'Try again: draw a long
breath, and shut your eyes.'

Alice laughed. 'There's no use trying,' she said: 'one CAN'T believe
impossible things.'

'I daresay you haven't had much practice,' said the Queen. 'When I was
your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I've
believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. There goes
the shawl again!'

The brooch had come undone as she spoke, and a sudden gust of wind blew
the Queen's shawl across a little brook. The Queen spread out her arms
again, and went flying after it, and this time she succeeded in catching
it for herself. 'I've got it!' she cried in a triumphant tone. 'Now you
shall see me pin it on again, all by myself!'

'Then I hope your finger is better now?' Alice said very politely, as
she crossed the little brook after the Queen.

* * * * * * *

* * * * * *

* * * * * * *

'Oh, much better!' cried the Queen, her voice rising to a squeak as she
went on. 'Much be-etter! Be-etter! Be-e-e-etter! Be-e-ehh!' The last
word ended in a long bleat, so like a sheep that Alice quite started.

She looked at the Queen, who seemed to have suddenly wrapped herself up
in wool. Alice rubbed her eyes, and looked again. She couldn't make out
what had happened at all. Was she in a shop? And was that really--was it
really a SHEEP that was sitting on the other side of the counter? Rub as
she could, she could make nothing more of it: she was in a little dark
shop, leaning with her elbows on the counter, and opposite to her was
an old Sheep, sitting in an arm-chair knitting, and every now and then
leaving off to look at her through a great pair of spectacles.

'What is it you want to buy?' the Sheep said at last, looking up for a
moment from her knitting.

'I don't QUITE know yet,' Alice said, very gently. 'I should like to
look all round me first, if I might.'

'You may look in front of you, and on both sides, if you like,' said the
Sheep: 'but you can't look ALL round you--unless you've got eyes at the
back of your head.'

But these, as it happened, Alice had NOT got: so she contented herself
with turning round, looking at the shelves as she came to them.

The shop seemed to be full of all manner of curious things--but the
oddest part of it all was, that whenever she looked hard at any shelf,
to make out exactly what it had on it, that particular shelf was always
quite empty: though the others round it were crowded as full as they
could hold.

'Things flow about so here!' she said at last in a plaintive tone, after
she had spent a minute or so in vainly pursuing a large bright thing,
that looked sometimes like a doll and sometimes like a work-box, and was
always in the shelf next above the one she was looking at. 'And this one
is the most provoking of all--but I'll tell you what--' she added, as a
sudden thought struck her, 'I'll follow it up to the very top shelf of
all. It'll puzzle it to go through the ceiling, I expect!'

But even this plan failed: the 'thing' went through the ceiling as
quietly as possible, as if it were quite used to it.

'Are you a child or a teetotum?' the Sheep said, as she took up another
pair of needles. 'You'll make me giddy soon, if you go on turning round
like that.' She was now working with fourteen pairs at once, and Alice
couldn't help looking at her in great astonishment.

'How CAN she knit with so many?' the puzzled child thought to herself.
'She gets more and more like a porcupine every minute!'

'Can you row?' the Sheep asked, handing her a pair of knitting-needles
as she spoke.

'Yes, a little--but not on land--and not with needles--' Alice was
beginning to say, when suddenly the needles turned into oars in her
hands, and she found they were in a little boat, gliding along between
banks: so there was nothing for it but to do her best.

'Feather!' cried the Sheep, as she took up another pair of needles.

This didn't sound like a remark that needed any answer, so Alice said
nothing, but pulled away. There was something very queer about the
water, she thought, as every now and then the oars got fast in it, and
would hardly come out again.

'Feather! Feather!' the Sheep cried again, taking more needles. 'You'll
be catching a crab directly.'

'A dear little crab!' thought Alice. 'I should like that.'

'Didn't you hear me say "Feather"?' the Sheep cried angrily, taking up
quite a bunch of needles.

'Indeed I did,' said Alice: 'you've said it very often--and very loud.
Please, where ARE the crabs?'

'In the water, of course!' said the Sheep, sticking some of the needles
into her hair, as her hands were full. 'Feather, I say!'

'WHY do you say "feather" so often?' Alice asked at last, rather vexed.
'I'm not a bird!'

'You are,' said the Sheep: 'you're a little goose.'

This offended Alice a little, so there was no more conversation for a
minute or two, while the boat glided gently on, sometimes among beds of
weeds (which made the oars stick fast in the water, worse then ever),
and sometimes under trees, but always with the same tall river-banks
frowning over their heads.

'Oh, please! There are some scented rushes!' Alice cried in a sudden
transport of delight. 'There really are--and SUCH beauties!'

'You needn't say "please" to ME about 'em,' the Sheep said, without
looking up from her knitting: 'I didn't put 'em there, and I'm not going
to take 'em away.'

'No, but I meant--please, may we wait and pick some?' Alice pleaded. 'If
you don't mind stopping the boat for a minute.'

'How am _I_ to stop it?' said the Sheep. 'If you leave off rowing, it'll
stop of itself.'

So the boat was left to drift down the stream as it would, till it
glided gently in among the waving rushes. And then the little sleeves
were carefully rolled up, and the little arms were plunged in elbow-deep
to get the rushes a good long way down before breaking them off--and for
a while Alice forgot all about the Sheep and the knitting, as she
bent over the side of the boat, with just the ends of her tangled hair
dipping into the water--while with bright eager eyes she caught at one
bunch after another of the darling scented rushes.

'I only hope the boat won't tipple over!' she said to herself. 'Oh, WHAT
a lovely one! Only I couldn't quite reach it.' 'And it certainly DID
seem a little provoking ('almost as if it happened on purpose,' she
thought) that, though she managed to pick plenty of beautiful rushes as
the boat glided by, there was always a more lovely one that she couldn't
reach.

'The prettiest are always further!' she said at last, with a sigh at the
obstinacy of the rushes in growing so far off, as, with flushed cheeks
and dripping hair and hands, she scrambled back into her place, and
began to arrange her new-found treasures.

What mattered it to her just then that the rushes had begun to fade, and
to lose all their scent and beauty, from the very moment that she
picked them? Even real scented rushes, you know, last only a very little
while--and these, being dream-rushes, melted away almost like snow, as
they lay in heaps at her feet--but Alice hardly noticed this, there were
so many other curious things to think about.

They hadn't gone much farther before the blade of one of the oars got
fast in the water and WOULDN'T come out again (so Alice explained it
afterwards), and the consequence was that the handle of it caught her
under the chin, and, in spite of a series of little shrieks of 'Oh, oh,
oh!' from poor Alice, it swept her straight off the seat, and down among
the heap of rushes.

However, she wasn't hurt, and was soon up again: the Sheep went on with
her knitting all the while, just as if nothing had happened. 'That was
a nice crab you caught!' she remarked, as Alice got back into her place,
very much relieved to find herself still in the boat.

'Was it? I didn't see it,' Said Alice, peeping cautiously over the side
of the boat into the dark water. 'I wish it hadn't let go--I should
so like to see a little crab to take home with me!' But the Sheep only
laughed scornfully, and went on with her knitting.

'Are there many crabs here?' said Alice.

'Crabs, and all sorts of things,' said the Sheep: 'plenty of choice,
only make up your mind. Now, what DO you want to buy?'

'To buy!' Alice echoed in a tone that was half astonished and half
frightened--for the oars, and the boat, and the river, had vanished all
in a moment, and she was back again in the little dark shop.

'I should like to buy an egg, please,' she said timidly. 'How do you
sell them?'

'Fivepence farthing for one--Twopence for two,' the Sheep replied.

'Then two are cheaper than one?' Alice said in a surprised tone, taking
out her purse.

'Only you MUST eat them both, if you buy two,' said the Sheep.

'Then I'll have ONE, please,' said Alice, as she put the money down on
the counter. For she thought to herself, 'They mightn't be at all nice,
you know.'

The Sheep took the money, and put it away in a box: then she said 'I
never put things into people's hands--that would never do--you must get
it for yourself.' And so saying, she went off to the other end of the
shop, and set the egg upright on a shelf.

'I wonder WHY it wouldn't do?' thought Alice, as she groped her way
among the tables and chairs, for the shop was very dark towards the end.
'The egg seems to get further away the more I walk towards it. Let me
see, is this a chair? Why, it's got branches, I declare! How very odd to
find trees growing here! And actually here's a little brook! Well, this
is the very queerest shop I ever saw!'

* * * * * * *

* * * * * *

* * * * * * *


So she went on, wondering more and more at every step, as everything
turned into a tree the moment she came up to it, and she quite expected
the egg to do the same.

 

[Sean]

been working since I was 14, troll.

oh no! a spelling mistake! whatever shall I do? Fuck off, you alkie twat.

What were you working at in CO, Scotty?

And it seems an odd mistake to make from someone with your exalted English qualifications.

 

[Byron In Exile]

oh no! a spelling mistake! whatever shall I do? Fuck off, you alkie twat.

Scott... seriously.

"Her wonton desires spoke volumes" is probably the most quoted line of poetry on Lit.

Face it. Your mistakes are what have made you famous, man.

 

[Luk]

Scott... seriously.

"Her wonton desires spoke volumes" is probably the most quoted line of poetry on Lit.

Face it. Your mistakes are what have made you famous, man.

That is a thing of mystical beauty right there.

 

[Byron In Exile]

That is a thing of mystical beauty right there.

Seven years have not dimmed its glory.

 

[Luk]

Seven years have not dimmed its glory.

Holy fuck, that's from 7 years ago and it still gets quoted here?

 

[Sean]

Seven years have not dimmed its glory.

I still reckon the great American novels sketch is funnier.

 

[Byron In Exile]

Holy fuck, that's from 7 years ago and it still gets quoted here?

What did I just say?

 

[Luk]

What did I just say?

Sorry, that's just too precious to be believable even though I know it to be true.

 

[pointless]

noob.

 

[DV81]

Scott... seriously.

"Her wonton desires spoke volumes" is probably the most quoted line of poetry on Lit.

Face it. Your mistakes are what have made you famous, man.

what I find amusing is that many here point out minor mistakes I have made,spending their precious time looking for any typo or a joke that they don't understand.

What makes me famous are my followers who have no life.

 

[butters]

Scott... seriously.

"Her wonton desires spoke volumes" is probably the most quoted line of poetry on Lit.

Face it. Your mistakes are what have made you famous, man.

oh. my!

wonderful.

 

[pink]

Scott... seriously.

"Her wonton desires spoke volumes" is probably the most quoted line of poetry on Lit.

Face it. Your mistakes are what have made you famous, man.

MMMMMMMMM That sounds delish. Now i want some wonton soup, dammit.