I have no idea what is going on. Is that supposed to be amichele?
I went back through the thread to try to find if her real name was mentioned, gave up looking pretty quick, but reading through the early parts of this thread I did see a lot of EvilSteve posts and noted that I never see him post anymore.
Since he was one of my all-time favorite 2+2 posters, I clicked on his name to see if he has been posting recently. Well, he requested a perma-ban a little under a year ago and his most recent posts before that were all him saying how depressed he was about his life and even mentioning jumping off a bridge.
So, F-amichile, I'm really worried about EvilSteve.
Night was just a joke because the inside of her apartment looked so similar from the Wangstas vid.
Well at least two people. I'm a big fan of as many light sources as possible in a room - so I can think of a lot worse choices.
I lived in a place in SF which for some reason had one nasty flourescent light in the center of the living room. We had plenty of floor and table lamps as well. But still I'd come home to my roommate watching TV with just that ungodly light bathing the room in Room 101 fluorescent hell. I wanted to slap him. How can you do that to yourself?
I basically forbade the house from ever turning that thing on. Some things are just wrong and it's not debatable.
This saga is impossible to ignore. Terrible that such a dramatic and tragic love story can only be summed up with a ****ed-slack cliche, but it is like watching a train wreck. I've tried to close it out and ignore it. I've tried to stay away. I've really tried not to like either character and just focus on the funny snark. But that's not the way the world works. The futility I feel about knowing these people, knowing they're out there, and knowing I can do nothing about the way they're shot from end to bouncy end of the pinball machine that loosely mimics what most of us call life... it haunts me.
WVU bought the farm apparently. Cut short by the apathy that replaced "take your child to work day" within the looming nothingness of our functionally fatherless society. What else to do but lose oneself in the glittered escapism of collapsing synapses?
Amichelle. I'd pound your parts to dust, but more than that I'd like to be a little voice in your head encouraging you and reinforcing normative boundaries that help you find a more comfortable and balanced place in society (and then put it in your butt ldo).
This story so joltingly evokes wild, nearly emotional responses ranging from nurturing to fetishism. I'm withered by a great tsunami, baked in the sun-blazed calm after the storm.
If words were something appropriate to use as a response to the wrenching reality that people like you two exist in the same world I myself have the indignity to call a struggle, three perfect words uttered by one of your own are the obvious choice.