nate has shown us that the male platypus has poisonous spurs for defense. what do you have?

Horrible smoker's & coffee drinker's breath.

My stunning personality and rugged good looks.

the amazing ability to be a complete brat, asshole, and snob rolled into one.

Biter. That's my ability too. 'Cept I'm a bastard, not an asshole.

people tell me that i'm brave for going all over town by myself. and others enjoy the surprises that i pull from my purse. bubbles, anyone? however, obsessions are easy to create.

people tell me that i'm brave for going all over town by myself. and others enjoy the surprises that i pull from my purse. bubbles, anyone? however, obsessions are easy to create.

i tickle everyone all the time.

lies. i'm mad at dave right now, but i'm sure i'll get over it. sometimes his pessimism overwhelms me and makes me angry.

biteme

That's a southern expression,to say you tickle someone means you amused them.

enormous biceps, rock solid pectoral muscles, and a rick james soul (minus the jerry curl).

My all too wonderful ability to analyze, parse, alienate and aggravate without even knowing it. But with certain folk who might have a hankering for me, I just keep on running faster and faster. Until the intensity breaks someone's spirit. Usually mine, and then I retreat further and further from view. The best offense is absence

I don't open up to people easily. I guess it comes across kinda snobby. Sometimes a little sarcasm doesn't help. Or does depending on the way you read the situation.

I don't open up to people easily. I guess it comes across kinda snobby. Sometimes a little sarcasm doesn't help. Or does depending on the way you read the situation.

oh crap. And my repetitve problem.

With trusted friends, there is no need for defense; you can be yourself. That, to me, more than anything else, is what friends are for. At work, and elsewhere, the best defense is a disingenuous offense. Saccharine good nature all conditions. (Never let 'em see you sweat.) A little sincerity goes a long way. (Even if you have to fake it!) Friendly to everyone, even enemies. (Never let 'em see where you really stand.) If nobody can figure out the real you, then nobody can get to you.

fuck you, nate. i don't even do that. the problem was that i felt a desire to post when i had nothing to say.

i think he was just showing that his defense is to be an ass

Another one of my defenses is to swim up your urethra and erect my spines. Then I die and rot there.

jesus, i'm expectorating christmas this morning. red and green. heather has me pegged. pez, you have no defenses. you're like a little girl.

Not true. If you hit back, back, up, then forward while pressing kick and punch simultaneously, she's got this wicked spinning demonflame eye gouge. Use on the boss in Level 8, Waffle Bastard.

i have a +8 jeweled glove of lubrication.

I possess Merkin's Amulet of Skank Repulsion.

The goats protect me whereever I go. The reindeer are too cute and strangers walk up to them and me and bother the shit out of them and me; but the goats, the goats they are just plain ornery. And then there is the invisibility I have been practising, by running through the woods in the dark not getting my long braid caught in the trees and jumping over that which is higher than my shoulders and crawling under that which is beneath my knees. Good practise indeed to avoid the unsavory.

defenses...hmm i have a good looking face. that's about where it stops, but that's all anyone sees anyway and by the time i get them in the sack, it's too late for them to say no anyway. but it's amazing...the edge that a little aesthetic can give you. add to that, a slight authoritorial tone, and nine times out of ten, you're in, or out, depending on the situation. a friend taught me over the span of a few years that most people are easily manipulatable, you just have to get over twisting the knobs and thinking it's wrong. it's not. of course, you don't make a habit of it. and you save it for the morons. if you try it on worthwhile people, they know and write you off, and that's not what you want. so i guess that's my parachute...a mixer of good looks, faked authority, and some lies. always with an olive.

I'm just a bitch.

heck, according to most people, i AM a little girl. so sheltered, so uncorrupted, so innocent... so WHAT? the world's not as fun once you're jaded. and as for defences, i kick and bite and scratch and wiggle. the last time i had someone call me names, i dropped everything on the ground and chased him down. caught him. he was so scared that i was going to beat him up and everything. all i did was tell him to quit, and then i let him go. never called me names again.

the trick is between innocent and jaded. shit, damn, motherfucker.

everybody gets served. i like to serve it up hot. it's all porkchops and razorblades. one minute-- high on the hog. the next-- shanked in the night. i'm a karmic chew-toy; i have cosmic dust in my pants and primordial goo oozing out of open wounds. last night in the city it was dished out, served up, and eaten straight from the trough. sometimes i tell myself these things happen because i'm a conduit for the universe. other times i simply believe i'm a bad man. cuz like everybody knows, bad men do bad things. i'm sitting on the corner down the block- away from it all- drinking beer and making shiny happy people out of gutter muck and bubble gum. lump of dirt for a head, lollipop body, pebble for a heart, candy wrapper for a smile. i smash it up and throw it away like i always do. thirty years. i didn't notice her, she just kind of appeared. she bends over and says to me: "just because it's a stupid lump of clay doesn't mean you should stop trying to shape it into something beautiful."

read "the mysterious stranger" by mark twain. good book, slightly relevant to this thread, and satan is involved.

"it's all porkchops and razorblades." My god, swine. That's a gem!

i don't get it.

It's a masterfully quixotic juxtaposition.

did you just have a birthday, swine? we're the same age. my friends are all too busy dealing with their personal catastrophes to care about my birthday just gone by. oh well.

The older I get teh less I care about my birthday (may 17th). I am at the point where I panic slightly when my parents ask me what I want. I may ask for help getting my left rear speaker in my car replaced, it's buzzing and driving me nuts. I am in danger this birthday of getting royally trashed, as it happens to fall during fieldwork. The crew will likely be buying me shots, if I know them.

yeah? you're 30? i always thought you were much younger. when was your birthday? my birthday was a fucking mess. friends arranged to have everyone meet up at the karl denson tiny universe show at irving plaza. i head out to buy tickets. my sister calls and tells me not to worry-- she'll take care of it. so i go out to greenpoint to take care of some unfinished business. saturday night rolls around, she forgets to buy the tickets, the show sells out, and twenty people are in irving plaza celebrating my birthday while i'm out on the sidewalk getting gassed. i guess it all worked out in the end. i hadn't hung out with my sister in months. we did shots up and down the east side, over to the west side, and somehow ended up in the basement of wetlands smoking pot with this canadian band called jazz pharmacy. i got chased around by some martha stewart clones from connecticut who kept trying to force tequila slammers down my throat. people with Serious Hygiene Issues reminded me how bad "peace, love and happiness" can smell. some band called Max Creek was on stage fucking up my serenity while i damn well should've been across town at irving plaza checking out karl denson and melvin sparks instead. fucking wack. i guess it didn't really work out in the end after all. how old are you gonna be, sem?

i'll do shots with ya semmy. oh, speaking of which, looks like I'll be getting into D.C. last late Wed night...so I'll get in touch with you Thursday morning? The zoo has groundhogs too. I swear. Last time I went with Rex it rained. I think it's supposed to be nice all week tho.

Next thursday, right, the 10th, remember. I'll be 29 the thursday after that.

29? damn. my parents stopped asking me what i wanted for my birthday when i turned 18. i just had to go to webster's to find out what "quixotic" meant. kept thinking it had something to do with peyote. now it all makes sense.

happy birthday, swine. the pack of smokes are in the mail. sorry it took so long. if i ever get a donkey, i'm gonna name it ho-tay.

the family only started asking me what i wanted when i turned 18. before that it was completely up to the buyer. faced with the responsibility of choosing my own gifts, i put it back on them by saying i didn't care or i didn't want anything. a few years ago my grandmother bought be a purple windsuit with pink flowers. now i make out a detailed list.

keep the smokes. go to the critters buggin/robert walters/dj logic/charlie hunter show at the showbox on 6/27. i'm gonna be in seattle that week to pick up the rest of my shit before double d throws it all in a pile and makes a bonfire in the middle of the street. hard to believe it's already been 4 years.

you going to be at that showbox show? I'll buy you a beer. yeah, 30 now. turned a couple weeks ago. I went to d.c. I celebrate my birthdays the way animals die, by going as far away from home as possible and finding some dark hole to crawl into. (this time around, the big hunt in dupont circle.) I may have seemed younger because I didn't grow up until about nine months ago. if you ask me, adulthood doesn't really have much to recommend it. last night I decided I would ask my parents for a sonicare toothbrush for my birthday. I may go to portland this weekend to pick it up.

bet. i'll buy you some crack. how is downtown seattle after the quake, anyway? is that bed and breakfast in belltown still open?

belltown sustained no major damage. only a few places in pioneer square got shut down, mostly as a result of developers using a few fallen bricks as an excuse to tear down the beautiful old buildings to make room for highly profitable new parking garages and condos or whatever. see you then. send me your e-mail address.

i won't be able to make it. not on a weeknight. unless i leave kelsey here. hmmmm.

Birthdays. Mine always sneaks up on me bad. It's a month from today. It'll be May 30th, and I won't realize that my birthday is the following day because my birthday is in June, and it's May. I'll be 21. I'd better figure out something to tell the parents. They get pretty fidgety if I don't let them know what I want. I think it's because I was an ungrateful bastard of a kid 10 years ago. I probably still am.

yeah? i thought all of first avenue got screwed by that quake. that's fucked up about pioneer square. if it weren't for that historical district, the whole place would probably look like it was put together two weeks ago. when i went back on business in '99, i thought i was in california. they plowed over my "2 steaks for $10.99" spot and turned it into a parking lot for some planet hollywood/nike/cinemahole bullshit. and my old low-rent apartment building was reborn as a high-dollar haven made exclusively for yuppies. i dunno. that place scares me. money in my pocket or not, between getting arrested for jay-walking on my first day out there in '94 and seeing the brand-new 99 and 44/100% sterilized downtown in '99... seattle pretty much makes my spine twitch. anyway-- my plans are based on music right now, and seeing critters buggin is a priority. i wanna see those cats do that shit live, without electronic sequencing. everybody should come. first round is on me.* *round of water, motherfucker. you gotta pay for your own vices. i'm going to sleep.

im a dummy. im a week ahead of myself. heh. anyone wanna play in dc with me thursday? heh.

the showbox is good about water. big tanks with stacks of plastic cups nearby. serve yourself.