<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Cheezedawg: Thats "Je ne sais pas". It's French for "I don't know"<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> No Fromage, it is... Je ne sais quoi. French An indefinable quality, esp. of personality. ( Literally: I don't know what). [ August 18, 2001: Message edited by: PinkorBrown69 ]
<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by PimpDaddy: kitana... are you planning to engage in some interesting self-mutilation.. something worthy of all this *ahem hype or are you planning on some bog standard low level cutting and needles under arms...*boring*.... i mean .. if you're gonna post the results on fugly it needs to be visually impactive.. or something that you do now.. but the damage increases over time.. kinda like phil the starving rat.. something that'll last a while.. like inserting uncoated steel shavings under your skin where they will rust and cause interesting skin complaints.. and then you can take a new pic as the wound develops...<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> ...or just cut your fucking head off.
thats why she wants to cut off your other head.. it's her 'thing'.... it's just 'cos of her confusion about her sexual identity.. so she wants to take the symbol of your sexual identity as a trophy... maybe she wishes she were a guy.... penis envy.. (balls envy too)
kitana... are you planning to engage in some interesting self-mutilation.. something worthy of all this *ahem hype or are you planning on some bog standard low level cutting and needles under arms...*boring*.... i mean .. if you're gonna post the results on fugly it needs to be visually impactive.. or something that you do now.. but the damage increases over time.. kinda like phil the starving rat.. something that'll last a while.. like inserting uncoated steel shavings under your skin where they will rust and cause interesting skin complaints.. and then you can take a new pic as the wound develops...
Pimp: fuck you! i have no penis envy or balls envy! shit, i have more balls than all of the guys in fugly put together! (in jars, of course) its b/c the penis and testicles are what matter most to males, take that away and they cry like a baby.
<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by PinkorBrown69: Van Gogh... *shivers* I spent an entire afternoon sitting in front of his Sunflower painting in the museum in Amsterdam tripping my head off! When you see his paintings for real it's pretty mind-blowing stuff! In some places the paint is over an inch thick! And the colours are all so vivid! This is the Pic that mesmerized me... And this one gave me the horrors... <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> I can see how a whole day could be spent looking at these... That must have been a hell of a trip.
<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by kitana: ...i am labeled as suicidial and homicidal at home...<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Only at home? Nowhere else? That indicates to me that the problem lay with your mother and/or other family members, not you. Don't treat the symptom, treat the disease - snuff the offenders.
<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Emetic: LOL, actually, in high school i was labeled that, too, by the counselors, teachers and...shit, i was labeled that by everyone... yeah, my counselor told me that i need to get away from my parents, but i am too scared to leave home...
<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by kitana: but i am too scared to leave home...<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Why?
<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Kitana ...i need to get away from my parents, but i am too scared to leave home...<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> No need to be scared - you just need to move outside your comfort zone, to shake things up and challenge yourself with a new, healthier perspective. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? You get your own apartment and a job to pay for it, then spend spend 20 hours a day either working, attending classes, studying, shopping for food or hitting the laundromat...the toll it takes on your mind and the physical exhaustion of your body induces a psychotic break, leading you to assault one of your neighbors with the stinking corpse of one of your dead snakes in response to an innocuous remark...after which you're locked up in the jail overnight where you're involuntarily introduced to the delights of woman-love by a fat, sweaty, stinking ghetto bitch.....then later arrive home to find an eviction notice tacked to your apt door for failure to pay rent...and by the time the sheriff & deputies arrive to haul your shit out, you have nowhere to go because your parents - overjoyed at having gotten rid of you in the first place - are now pissed at your failure to repay dime one of the money they loaned you for the deposit on the apt....so you trudge aimlessly down the street with your favorite dead animals clutched tightly in your arms...night falls...you're cold...hungry...alone and frightened...when a man approaches and offers you money for sex...you're so hungry and desperate you barely give your preciously-guarded virginity a second thought...the assault of his stinking whiskey breath in your face almost overwhelms the pain from your hymen's tearing and the bloody trickle, then the sticky aftermath when he roughly withdraws and tosses you some bills....you collect yourself and stagger painfully toward the nearest 24-hour fast-food joint but are waylaid by a friendly person of color who kindly offers you a toke on a strange-looking pipe...you're instantly transported into a realm of bliss and awareness you couldn't have imagined...with the remainder of your wits you beg him for more of that stuff, which he gives you in exchange for your prostitution proceeds...you smoke away into the night....within a couple days you're a pathetic, dirty crack whore blowing strangers for $5 to get your rock fix in a perpetual downward cycle until before long your cold, dead body is found face-up in the gutter. Then again, maybe not.
<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Lomotil: Why?<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> i dont know...i am paranoid and sometimes, i dont even want to leave my yard, my house, worse - sometimes i dont even want to leave my room...and if i posted why, you guys would think that i am psychotic, neurotic and out of my mind (more than you already do)
Emetic: Thank you so much for your little story...my parents wouldnt give me money, if i needed a place to stay, it would be either with my mom OR my dad - they are divorced and own their own homes. i dont do drugs and i would never do drugs b/c i take drugs already. I would only exchange sexual favors for information and death pics - and sexual favors wouldnt involve someone getting in my pants...OK, actually i would do it to blue-ball the guy
<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Emetic: No need to be scared......<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Fuckin' poetry, god bless your little white cottons.
Let's get back to Vincent Van Gogh... This is one of my favorites... Hence the song... Vincent Don McLean Starry, starry night Paint your palette blue and gray Look out on a summer's day With eyes that know the darkness in my soul. Shadows on the hills Sketch the trees and the daffodils Catch the breeze and the winter chills In colors on the snowy linen land. Now I understand What you tried to say, to me And how you suffered for your sanity And how you tried to set them free: They would not listen; they did not know how - Perhaps they'll listen now. Starry, starry night Flaming flowers that brightly blaze Swirling clouds in violet haze Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue Colors changing hue Morning fields of amber grain Weathered faces lined in pain Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand. Now I understand What you tried to say, to me And how you suffered for your sanity And how you tried to set them free: They would not listen; they did not know how-- Perhaps they'll listen now. For they could not love you But still, your love was true And when no hope was left inside On that starry, starry night You took your life as lovers often do-- But I could've told you, Vincent: This world was never meant For one as beautiful as you. Starry, Starry night Portraits hung in empty halls Frameless heads on nameless walls With eyes that watch the world and can't forget Like the strangers that you've met The ragged men in ragged clothes The silver thorn, a bloody rose Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow. Now I think I know What you tried to say, to me And how you suffered for your sanity And how you tried to set them free: They would not listen; they're not listening still-- Perhaps they never will. *sniff* I'm getting all whoremoanal.
let's not get back to van gogh eh? WTF?.. are you in competition with IMC nauseous?... to see who can provide the forum with the sickest lyrics?
<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by PimpDaddy: let's not get back to van gogh eh? WTF?.. are you in competition with IMC nauseous?... to see who can provide the forum with the sickest lyrics?<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Shut the fuck up Pimp! I was trying to tap into my 'autistic' side. FYI: In almost any competition involving IMC and myself, I'd win.
