Depends on the situation.
Currently? 40 pound box of cake mix I’m probably going to launch at my store manager.
Depends on the situation.
Currently? 40 pound box of cake mix I’m probably going to launch at my store manager.
Being pedantic, but it’s beyond that.
To grok is to know or understand so completely, it becomes a part of yourself. To know something fully. You can understand the concepts of astrophysics, but you might not grok the concept.
If you can Raiden your sword, don’t let this picture stop you.
Hold that sword with your foot. Do big spins, and swap which foot midair. You can hold a sword with your foot. You are your own master now.
I didn’t realize pelicans had figured out how to type. The last time I tried to teach them, they ate the keyboard.
I’ve played too much Gaige. It’s now instinct to rebind my reload key to somewhere far, far away from everything else, no matter what game I play.
Why, yes, I do hate myself, what gave it away?
First, abandon your spoon. You only need a fork and a tac-knife.
Second, kill and eat at least one of every species you come across, and rank how delicious it is.
Third, get in the box. You can think. In the box. You’ll feel free. In the box. Everything is better… In the box.
Fourth, stock up on glowing mushrooms. They’ll recharge your batteries.
You know he’s never going to give it to you.
Embrace the Rot by Endless Tavern.
Backpacks are also an option. It’s been my preference, also handy if I need to lug anything larger around for some reason.
Bonus points: Lotta space to put pins for decoration. Downside: Damn, enamel pins get expensive.
Except for a few times.
Like the island full of zombies.
Or K.I.S.S dealing with interdimendional threats by riding on a giant guitar ship powered by rock, and that Gene Simmons may be a literal demon, not just an abhorrent human being.
“Lifeless black eyes, like a dolls eyes”.
Just avoid Australia, you’ll be fine.
But he’s fully functional!
His crippling meatball addiction. She can never know he fell off the wagon. I’ve seen it before. You think it’s a safety food, the easy pick off the menu. Then you hear something messing with the trash cans late one night, go out to check, and there’s your neighbor, in their underwear, six cans deep into a Chef Boyardee overload.
We need to normalize platonic vulnerability sessions. Just having a nice cuddle with friends, feeling open and okay.
I prefer when my burger heals thyself.
Infinite burger.
This is what happens when you take things away. Used to be you’d just levitate yourself wherever you needed to go.
Then there’s Fallout. Who needs horses? Courier can carry themself and 400 pounds of Sunset Sarsaparilla up a damn near vertical cliff face if you do the side-to-side.
I wish I could read hieroglyphs to tell you! I just happen to love that particular tale, and any time someone posts Hieroglyph Loss, it’s where my brain goes.
Not with Trek, but I’m a former stagehand and I’ve done amateur stagework. Spent a lotta time building and maintaining sets and props. I’ve been there.
You’re backstage, you’ve got how everything should look memorized, it’s all set up, and for a moment, while it’s just you and that dry run, you forget yourself. You’re a part of the show.
Eventually you step back, remember it’s all fake. You notice the little flaws, notice the floor isn’t just right under your feet. You were tired, trying to get something done. A lapse.
I genuinely believe in the magic of the stage. Not in the sense of a spell, but of the ritual. No matter if it’s on a screen, or in person, if you do it right, we let go. For a moment, we forget our world and step into another.
Same thing that always happens, I got asked where something was in a store I don’t work at.
Doesn’t matter what I wear, apparently I just scream “retail employee”. It’s gotten depressing, kinda.