[QUOTE=Poketama;24787380]I take it you're a "bicycler" not a biker in the common sense of the word?[/QUOTE]
Who the hell says bicycler?
[QUOTE=Poketama;24787380]I take it you're a "bicycler" not a biker in the common sense of the word?[/QUOTE]
To tell you the truth idk. I do it on almost a daily basis, but does that make me hardcore?
Let's not focus on you, let's focus on your friend. You're pathetic and lame and he's probably cooler than you are, so let's focus on how you can get back at your friend for being better than you.
First, you want to make his life a living hell. You don't want to kill him, you just want the pain to sink in. Here's a list of things you could do:
[LIST]
[*] Put cat shit in his yogurt
[*] Burn his house down
[*] Stick saran wrap over his toilet seat
[*] Buy methylene blue dye to turn his urine blue
[*] Get a scalpel, use it to carefully tear out pages of a book he's reading
[*] Kill his family
[*] Grind more cat shit into his coffee
[*] Rub your junk in his face
[*] For psychological torture, sand down a leg of his desk, bit by bit, over several weeks. Just one leg
[*] Break his coffee mug and put it back together so when he takes a sip it'll fall apart in his hand
[/LIST]
Now, that probably sounds random, but bear with me.
Six weeks from today. Mac walks into his cubicle at his summer job. He's tired and it's early, so he goes to get some coffee. He takes a sip, and WOW THAT TASTES TERRIBLE. He recoils with such force that the coffee cup breaks and the shit coffee spills into his lap. Well, fuck. Now he has to go clean it up. So he goes to the bathroom, cleans up. Well, now he's in the bathroom, might as well take a leak. So he does. No sooner does his neon blue piss disorient him than the stream ricochets off an invisible force field in every direction, soaking him again as well as the rest of the bathroom.
Already, he's in for a bad day.
He finishes cleaning up again. And goddamn, time to get that coffee taste out of his mouth, that probably tastes terrible. Hey, I should get some yogurt. I love yogu-OHMYFUCKWHATISTHISBLAHHHVOMITEW. He flinches and withdraws from his desk, throwing the yogurt away. He is overwhelmed. He rests his head on his desk. [I]Wobble wobble.[/I] That is the final straw, he is a broken man. He takes the rest of the day off to try to get his head around his bad luck, he just needs to get away from this place.
So he drives home, right? He gets out of his car, locks the door, then walks inside. He drops his suitcase on the floor, loosens his tie, and hangs up his coat. "Mom, I'm home. I'm just going to make some chocolate milk, if that's okay with you." [I]Silence.[/I] "Mom? You here?" [I]No answer.[/I] "Mom? Are you ok-"
He is cut short by the pool of blood he sees running under the kitchen door. The words die in his throat. He slowly approaches the door, unsure of what he will find. He opens the door and sinks to his knees. There, in front of him, his family lies. Throats cut, all of them. A cold shiver runs down his back. Who could have done this, he wonders? Who is so godless and evil they would do such a thing?
At the front door, you light a cigarette. The light of the burning tobacco is reflected off the blood pooling from his little sister's throat. You walk up to him, slowly. He doesn't notice you. You grab his head, yank him around, and rub your junk in his face. [I]It's you.[/I] Realization hits him, as does your balls.
You look at his face. He is a broken man. you laugh and walk down the hallway, leaving him to his guilt. You reach the door, you turn back. He is watching you, helpless. You laugh, flick open your lighter, and drop it on the floor. He watches you leave as he is steadily engulfed in the flames of his memories.
[B]Cut to three months later.[/B] He's in your local hospital's burn unit. The best doctors in the country have been flown in to work on his skin grafts. He has new skin on 98% of his body and is utterly unrecognizable. His nurse, Nurse Julie, has been reading him a book. The standard book read in hospitals to those who have survived terrible accidents. A book called "Dealing with Grief".
She reads aloud. [I]"...you hold the keys to your future. You deserve to be happy and are stronger for what you've been through. You have the power. All you need to remember is this. The key to getting on with your life again is..."[/I]
She looks at the book, a confused expression on her face.
"Huh. That's unusual. A page is missing."
And that is how he will remember you.
[QUOTE=TheUltimateHam;24787432]To tell you the truth idk. I do it on almost a daily basis, but does that make me hardcore?[/QUOTE]
Biker means you're a whoremongering alcoholic with a Harley and a sawn-off shotgun.
Or just that guy from the village people...
[QUOTE=SomeRandomGuy18;24787430]Who the hell says bicycler?[/QUOTE]
A biker is someone who rides a motorcycle, typically a harley hurrrrr
My god I have problems.
No one will ever read your post :(
[QUOTE=TheUltimateHam;24787012]Well, what's the coolest way I can die then?[/QUOTE]
As soon as possible.
[QUOTE=Poketama;24787471]A biker is someone who rides a motorcycle, typically a harley hurrrrr[/QUOTE]The proper term for someone riding a bicycle is cyclist. Is English your first language?
[QUOTE=Zinayzen;24787466]Let's not focus on you, let's focus on your friend. You're pathetic and lame and he's probably cooler than you are, so let's focus on how you can get back at your friend for being better than you.
First, you want to make his life a living hell. You don't want to kill him, you just want the pain to sink in. Here's a list of things you could do:
[LIST]
[*] Put cat shit in his yogurt
[*] Burn his house down
[*] Stick saran wrap over his toilet seat
[*] Buy methylene blue dye to turn his urine blue
[*] Get a scalpel, use it to carefully tear out pages of a book he's reading
[*] Kill his family
[*] Grind more cat shit into his coffee
[*] Rub your junk in his face
[*] For psychological torture, sand down a leg of his desk, bit by bit, over several weeks. Just one leg
[*] Break his coffee mug and put it back together so when he takes a sip it'll fall apart in his hand
[/LIST]
Now, that probably sounds random, but bear with me.
Six weeks from today. Mac walks into his cubicle at his summer job. He's tired and it's early, so he goes to get some coffee. He takes a sip, and WOW THAT TASTES TERRIBLE. He recoils with such force that the coffee cup breaks and the shit coffee spills into his lap. Well, fuck. Now he has to go clean it up. So he goes to the bathroom, cleans up. Well, now he's in the bathroom, might as well take a leak. So he does. No sooner does his neon blue piss disorient him than the stream ricochets off an invisible force field in every direction, soaking him again as well as the rest of the bathroom.
Already, he's in for a bad day.
He finishes cleaning up again. And goddamn, time to get that coffee taste out of his mouth, that probably tastes terrible. Hey, I should get some yogurt. I love yogu-OHMYFUCKWHATISTHISBLAHHHVOMITEW. He flinches and withdraws from his desk, throwing the yogurt away. He is overwhelmed. He rests his head on his desk. [I]Wobble wobble.[/I] That is the final straw, he is a broken man. He takes the rest of the day off to try to get his head around his bad luck, he just needs to get away from this place.
So he drives home, right? He gets out of his car, locks the door, then walks inside. He drops his suitcase on the floor, loosens his tie, and hangs up his coat. "Mom, I'm home. I'm just going to make some chocolate milk, if that's okay with you." [I]Silence.[/I] "Mom? You here?" [I]No answer.[/I] "Mom? Are you ok-"
He is cut short by the pool of blood he sees running under the kitchen door. The words die in his throat. He slowly approaches the door, unsure of what he will find. He opens the door and sinks to his knees. There, in front of him, his family lies. Throats cut, all of them. A cold shiver runs down his back. Who could have done this, he wonders? Who is so godless and evil they would do such a thing?
At the front door, you light a cigarette. The light of the burning tobacco is reflected off the blood pooling from his little sister's throat. You walk up to him, slowly. He doesn't notice you. You grab his head, yank him around, and rub your junk in his face. [I]It's you.[/I] Realization hits him, as does your balls.
You look at his face. He is a broken man. you laugh and walk down the hallway, leaving him to his guilt. You reach the door, you turn back. He is watching you, helpless. You laugh, flick open your lighter, and drop it on the floor. He watches you leave as he is steadily engulfed in the flames of his memories.
[B]Cut to three months later.[/B] He's in your local hospital's burn unit. The best doctors in the country have been flown in to work on his skin grafts. He has new skin on 98% of his body and is utterly unrecognizable. His nurse, Nurse Julie, has been reading him a book. The standard book read in hospitals to those who have survived terrible accidents. A book called "Dealing with Grief".
She reads aloud. [I]"...you hold the keys to your future. You deserve to be happy and are stronger for what you've been through. You have the power. All you need to remember is this. The key to getting on with your life again is..."[/I]
She looks at the book, a confused expression on her face.
"Huh. That's unusual. A page is missing."
And that is how he will remember you.[/QUOTE]
[IMG]http://cardcaptor.moekaku.com/files/code-geass-r2-22/lelouch-wtf-face.jpg[/IMG]
[QUOTE=SomeRandomGuy18;24787352]I Am Legend[/QUOTE]
good job, i was thinking nobody would get it
[QUOTE=TheUltimateHam;24787600][IMG_thumb]http://cardcaptor.moekaku.com/files/code-geass-r2-22/lelouch-wtf-face.jpg[/IMG_thumb][/QUOTE]
Have a box or seven.
[QUOTE=Poketama;24787471]A biker is someone who rides a motorcycle, typically a harley hurrrrr[/QUOTE]
Not where I live
Biker = someone who rides a bicycle
[QUOTE=Sgt Doom;24787578]The proper term for someone riding a bicycle is cyclist. Is English your first language?[/QUOTE]
I didn't meditate over the correct term for a cyclist before I posted. Don't be a douchebag, everyone forgets words.
[QUOTE=Sgt Doom;24787578]The proper term for someone riding a bicycle is cyclist. Is English your first language?[/QUOTE]
In England maybe. We in America call bicycles bikes and bicyclers bikers.
[QUOTE=SomeRandomGuy18;24787763]Not where I live
Biker = someone who rides a bicycle[/QUOTE]
You must live in a pretty white town.
Riding your hog while playing a manga game, playing the French Horn. Then, you have a spontaneous orgasm from the manga, causing you to swerve, hitting the side rail and your horn impales you.
Anyway, back to the topic.
Edit: HNNNNNNNNGGGG AUTOMERGE!
[QUOTE=Tukimoshi;24787219]It's already been decided that hanging yourself with Razor Wire after gluing your hands to your head so it looks like you ripped off your own head is the most epic way to die.
Another good way would be to stab yourself with a chainsaw.[/QUOTE]
that would be fucking amazing, i cant believe how awesome that sounds
[QUOTE=TheUltimateHam;24787817]You must live in a pretty white town.[/QUOTE]
79.7% white
[QUOTE=Zinayzen;24787466]Let's not focus on you, let's focus on your friend. You're pathetic and lame and he's probably cooler than you are, so let's focus on how you can get back at your friend for being better than you.
First, you want to make his life a living hell. You don't want to kill him, you just want the pain to sink in. Here's a list of things you could do:
[LIST]
[*] Put cat shit in his yogurt
[*] Burn his house down
[*] Stick saran wrap over his toilet seat
[*] Buy methylene blue dye to turn his urine blue
[*] Get a scalpel, use it to carefully tear out pages of a book he's reading
[*] Kill his family
[*] Grind more cat shit into his coffee
[*] Rub your junk in his face
[*] For psychological torture, sand down a leg of his desk, bit by bit, over several weeks. Just one leg
[*] Break his coffee mug and put it back together so when he takes a sip it'll fall apart in his hand
[/LIST]
Now, that probably sounds random, but bear with me.
Six weeks from today. Mac walks into his cubicle at his summer job. He's tired and it's early, so he goes to get some coffee. He takes a sip, and WOW THAT TASTES TERRIBLE. He recoils with such force that the coffee cup breaks and the shit coffee spills into his lap. Well, fuck. Now he has to go clean it up. So he goes to the bathroom, cleans up. Well, now he's in the bathroom, might as well take a leak. So he does. No sooner does his neon blue piss disorient him than the stream ricochets off an invisible force field in every direction, soaking him again as well as the rest of the bathroom.
Already, he's in for a bad day.
He finishes cleaning up again. And goddamn, time to get that coffee taste out of his mouth, that probably tastes terrible. Hey, I should get some yogurt. I love yogu-OHMYFUCKWHATISTHISBLAHHHVOMITEW. He flinches and withdraws from his desk, throwing the yogurt away. He is overwhelmed. He rests his head on his desk. [I]Wobble wobble.[/I] That is the final straw, he is a broken man. He takes the rest of the day off to try to get his head around his bad luck, he just needs to get away from this place.
So he drives home, right? He gets out of his car, locks the door, then walks inside. He drops his suitcase on the floor, loosens his tie, and hangs up his coat. "Mom, I'm home. I'm just going to make some chocolate milk, if that's okay with you." [I]Silence.[/I] "Mom? You here?" [I]No answer.[/I] "Mom? Are you ok-"
He is cut short by the pool of blood he sees running under the kitchen door. The words die in his throat. He slowly approaches the door, unsure of what he will find. He opens the door and sinks to his knees. There, in front of him, his family lies. Throats cut, all of them. A cold shiver runs down his back. Who could have done this, he wonders? Who is so godless and evil they would do such a thing?
At the front door, you light a cigarette. The light of the burning tobacco is reflected off the blood pooling from his little sister's throat. You walk up to him, slowly. He doesn't notice you. You grab his head, yank him around, and rub your junk in his face. [I]It's you.[/I] Realization hits him, as does your balls.
You look at his face. He is a broken man. you laugh and walk down the hallway, leaving him to his guilt. You reach the door, you turn back. He is watching you, helpless. You laugh, flick open your lighter, and drop it on the floor. He watches you leave as he is steadily engulfed in the flames of his memories.
[B]Cut to three months later.[/B] He's in your local hospital's burn unit. The best doctors in the country have been flown in to work on his skin grafts. He has new skin on 98% of his body and is utterly unrecognizable. His nurse, Nurse Julie, has been reading him a book. The standard book read in hospitals to those who have survived terrible accidents. A book called "Dealing with Grief".
She reads aloud. [I]"...you hold the keys to your future. You deserve to be happy and are stronger for what you've been through. You have the power. All you need to remember is this. The key to getting on with your life again is..."[/I]
She looks at the book, a confused expression on her face.
"Huh. That's unusual. A page is missing."
And that is how he will remember you.[/QUOTE]
:golfclap:
Would read again
Watch too much anime, weeaboo yourself to death
What about my fascination with computers and video games? Not many people touched that.
Beat him to death with a playstation.
Chainsawing Your head off
Viagra Overdose.
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