Sleep bansticking, the new fad.
kamap said:I have mumble aswell but no one is ever one when I am.
Been dropping by Community to keep an eye on things lately (haven't done that in years).
Now, being a green dude, I have no heart but if I did, the realization that things are still chugging along nicely and that the company is as friendly as it's always been would make it beat with joy. Heck, my ancient rules thread is still pinned in spite of it being out-of-date.
Every single one of us (past and present) has sleepbanned at one point or another; some of us do it fairly regularly. I don't think such an act can be classed as a 'fad' if it's SOP.
I'll trade my Skype account for your Mumble. You'll like all the chit-chat and I'll like the peace and quiet. It's win/win. Hopefully your friends are more low-key and don't all have screaming banshee children that like to randomly send me text messages like "bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb" and "joweyvnohovneownl48rcmv", yell in close proximity to the microphone and randomly disconnect and unplug things. Erm, I mean this stuff is sooocuteandadorable and you'll love it, scout's honor!
My therapist told me today that I need to stop talking to inanimate objects, but I mean he's just a lamp so what does he really know anyway?
You flee the country and change your nameWhat happens when the lamp goes out?
I'm not. I can sort quicker than most people, I have some knack of languages and appearantly I am very good at breathing (this is not a joke and it'll be interesting to figure out what makes me good at it) but my jokes are stolen, lame, or lame stolen jokes.
So you are one of those that still believe that the earth is flat, stop living in the medieval age and get to the present!
Cause if you stay in medieval times you might have a medieval bush problem:
Come, fair lady to mine bed, we go,
And verily sweet pleasures we shall know,
Yet, where thy belly meets thy limb,
I beseech thee give a trim,
For thy bush doth overflow,
Milady doth have a 70's muff,
A 1470's muff hmmm,
Zounds, it's as prickly as a Christmas wreath,
Think, it might hide some baby birds, beneath,
Pray, shave it off to make a coat,
There are fur balls down mine throat,
Short and curlies twixt my teeth,
I sayeth not thy vagina is hirsute,
But it looketh like thou hast buckwheat in a leg lock hmmm,
But soft, what hair through yonder girdle grows,
To be or not to be put in corn rows,
Oh, it is beastly and unruly,
And it smelleth of patchouli,
And that offends my nose,
I sayeth not thou art furry down there,
But it doth resemble Fidel Castro eating a London broil hmmm.
Pra la la la la la la la la la la la la
Pra la la la la la la la la medieval bush
What kind of sand are we talking about?
I'd use quick sand no need to do any digging nor hard work, just toss kegs on it, the sand will do the rest.
I do not mean to say Kestegs is part of my nightmares. I'm glad he's not. My nightmares are bad. It's like all the horrible things that happened in the past try to cram themselves into every night.
And it's a lot.
What happens when the lamp goes out?