The new forums will be named Coin Return (based on the most recent vote)! You can check on the status and timeline of the transition to the new forums here.
The Guiding Principles and New Rules document is now in effect.
Than is a [Chat]ass
Thanatos
Registered User regular
Registered User regular
This discussion has been closed.
Posts
No, fuck, what happened?
And here's the reply from last thread:
Cheese festival?
Anyway, I just found out that our game master for our planned PnP RPG evening isn't even southern Germany today. So... I'm currently trying to get something else going for tonight.
Ouch Than.
http://www.seattlecheesefestival.com/event/guide/index.html
And with that, I'm off to bed. G'night [chat].
I see. "Cheese" festival. It's called wine festival over here. :P
Edit: Night, Squirmi.
A wine festival in Seattle would be as redundant as a coffee festival.
At this point, being pretty much utterly devoid of any sort of masculine dignity, I begin shouting over and over again "help me! Help me! Heeeeeelp! Help me!" at the top of my lungs (my voice is hoarse right now). He starts beating on me. Swinging fists, punching, saying "gimme your fucking money! Gimme your fucking money!" trying to rip my messenger bag off my soldiers. Given that he's beating on me without really letting up, I couldn't give him my money even if I wanted to (and at this point, I probably would have, given the option). So, we wrestle around a bit, him hitting me, throwing me into a car, me giving maybe half as good as I got, until I get my legs under me and throw him into the wall a couple of times, then shove his head back into it (this particular wall being covered with gravel, I can't imagine it felt good). I continue screaming, we continue fighting until he finally lets go. We look at each other (still screaming; I really kept screaming for a very long time), he bends down to pick up his shoe which he lost in the fight. We look at each other some more, he walks off. Finally, a couple of my upstairs neighbors come downstairs as I'm standing in front of my door. One of them calls 911, I give the operator a pretty good description of the guy. The third time she asks me if I want medical attention, I say "okay, yeah, go ahead and send someone by just to make sure I'm okay," which I figure I should do since the guy hit me in the head a few times. The fire department comes by, checks me out, I tell them I feel fine other than my eye (which you can see) since I got a look at myself in the mirror.
So, they roll out, I go back inside to wait for the cops. I'm checking myself, cleaning out a scrape on my hand, icing my face/eye, and all of a sudden I just pass out, convulsing a bit (according to my roommate, anyway). I'm only out for a few seconds, but immediately after I do that, the cops show up. They're like "the firefighters let you go like this!?" since I was about five shades paler than my normal hue. The firefighters come back (they're literally two blocks away, so I don't feel too bad), take my blood pressure while I'm giving the cops a description. My blood pressure is pretty fantastically low (something over 80, should be something over 127 at my age, probably higher than that at my weight), they say "you should really go to a hospital." I ask "how much is that going to cost me?" They say "an ambulance ride is $600." I say "in that case, I'm fine." We go back and forth about approximate costs for an emergency room visit, how much I've had to drink, etc., finally I say "I'm gonna stand up, if I can't, I'll go to the hospital" (I've been sitting on the floor this whole time). I stand, almost throw up in the sink, but make it. Get some gatorade in me, I start looking a lot better.
The cops take a look around outside and find a fucking tire iron. They take some pictures, leave me with a business card and case number, ask me a bunch of questions about what exactly went on. I describe it all to them in detail, including the guy (slightly taller than me, about my size; it's worth noting, I am not a small man). So, I get to find out later whether or not they get any prints off the thing.
tl;dr: I think I fought off a large man with a tire iron who wanted my money.
Hello good morning howdy!
Oh, also, a "lucky" quarter.
It does me good to read that the firefighters were faster than the cops, by the way.
Fair enough. Still, firefighters>crimefighters!
I know we go on about it incessantly, but you gotta love the NHS. Emergency medical care shouldn't require financial negotiation.
Goddamn right I haven't. Not for lack of trying, though.
Then I went out and jogged, meaning this is the first time in some 18 months that I move without having any place I intend to travel to.
I jogged a whopping 800 meters total.
Then I got back inside, felt horribly ill and promptly threw up said breakfast. Which was why I just had something light in the first place. I knew exactly what to expect and how my body would react to this sudden torture.
Well, got to start somewhere. As long as I can keep doing it on a regular basis (minus the throwing up part) I'll get used to it.
And now I think I shall go collapse in the bath tub.
Bye!
Hahhahaha.
Seriously Than, youch. Sucks that nobody came earlier. Though to be expected I suppose.
I'm actually probably going to run a bottle of wine up to them tomorrow.
--
What's the post-release verdict on the mighty Wolfram|Alpha stuff?