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Dion
cider
erikhI'm gonna hold off until gogo and Rare have a chance to reply. And you're welcome @TomeBinder, get some rest.
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5 yrs ago
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I haven't updated this in over 7 years.
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11 yrs ago
I'm so happy, found two orphan newborn kittens and was able to put them in with a nursing momma cat and she adopted them right away!
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11 yrs ago
Ladies, come help me defeat the men in the count down game in Spam. They're just asking for it.
11 yrs ago
Free used couch. Only has three legs and missing one cushion, stains minimal. Please pick up from the curb.
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+18 only, I check IDs
Most Recent Posts
@idlehands The Heart of Darkness. I Googled it. Haha
Makes sense. I'm too brain dead to use the tools on hand.
I just had Chris bitch about the jungle and follow orders. I'm helpful.
Nice touch, Heyseuss
Welp. The irony of this post went undetected. The whole point was to see if anyone would say anything about my frequent attention whoring and I should shut my mouth. Then we could have a hearty laugh and then weep later or something. I suppose I should stop doing social experiments.
Just own up to the fact you went full retard with this shit thread. Don't hide behind they 'you didn't get my irony/social experiment bullshit'.
<Snipped quote by Halo>
I feel like I've missed something here.
You're a terrible spy.
<Snipped quote by Awson>
Change it for me
EDIT: And yes, I thought she said I could change it myself at first. Luckily my responses also match what she actually said.
No. Keep it, Aw
hey OP how did you manage to get so shitty
She's been here less than a month, makes her an expert, yo.
Chris shifted his pack, standing up as the all clear was sounded. No casualties among them, other than the dead in the choppers. It was a relief because there was no time to call for help, like the Sarge said and they were humping it out of there. Through the jungle. He hated the fucking jungle with all the shit in it that could kill a man. If it wasn’t a booby trap or a VC ambush then it was snakes, poisonous ones that could drop a man with one bite before he could take seven steps. And tigers. Fucking tigers, man. Then there was the black ants that stung like fire and leeches the size of his palm even monkeys throwing their own shit. Fuck this place. Fuck Charlie and fuck LBJ.
Keeping himself slightly behind and aside from Bobby D., Chris scanned the vegetation for any movement, the slight breeze hardly stirring the humid air. His glasses slid down on his sweating face and he had to scrunch his nose to push them back, keeping his hands on his rifle. His radio was still silent, no one had tried to raise their platoon, no one seemed to be missing them yet. He glanced at his watch, wondering just how long it take for them to do something about the downed choppers. He was glad to have the Sarge at his back, someone who had been through the shit longer than anyone.
As they entered the forest, the chirruping of jungle birds that flitted among the higher branches and the buzz of insects filled the hot, damp air. “Fuck you! Fuck yoooou!” the infamous lizard started up its call as the soldiers shouldered their way through the brush, the hooked claw like thorns snagging at his fatigues and exposed skin. It seemed like even the wildlife resented the American presence in this primeval land. He would he more than happy to leave, fuck you very much. He had waves to ride and beer to drink and a pretty girlfriend back home. He did not need this shit though apparently Uncle Sam felt otherwise.
Chris was thirsty but he was wired too tight to pause and drink, blinking through the sweat that stung his eyes. He would glance at the ground, around the forest floor for any wires or strange mats of leaves that might mask a tiger trap. Those were nasty things lined with shit smeared sharpened bamboo stakes. The young man kept his head on the swivel, as Sarge told them too, watching the jungle as it closed in around them.
Keeping himself slightly behind and aside from Bobby D., Chris scanned the vegetation for any movement, the slight breeze hardly stirring the humid air. His glasses slid down on his sweating face and he had to scrunch his nose to push them back, keeping his hands on his rifle. His radio was still silent, no one had tried to raise their platoon, no one seemed to be missing them yet. He glanced at his watch, wondering just how long it take for them to do something about the downed choppers. He was glad to have the Sarge at his back, someone who had been through the shit longer than anyone.
As they entered the forest, the chirruping of jungle birds that flitted among the higher branches and the buzz of insects filled the hot, damp air. “Fuck you! Fuck yoooou!” the infamous lizard started up its call as the soldiers shouldered their way through the brush, the hooked claw like thorns snagging at his fatigues and exposed skin. It seemed like even the wildlife resented the American presence in this primeval land. He would he more than happy to leave, fuck you very much. He had waves to ride and beer to drink and a pretty girlfriend back home. He did not need this shit though apparently Uncle Sam felt otherwise.
Chris was thirsty but he was wired too tight to pause and drink, blinking through the sweat that stung his eyes. He would glance at the ground, around the forest floor for any wires or strange mats of leaves that might mask a tiger trap. Those were nasty things lined with shit smeared sharpened bamboo stakes. The young man kept his head on the swivel, as Sarge told them too, watching the jungle as it closed in around them.
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