Also in real world, somethin a certain @DieGrootHammer may never do again
Hammer carried a whip? That’s a story that needs telling…
I have been sworn to secrecy, I shall never ever reveal that one…
Nope na aah never ever
unless you bribe me
My apologies for missing this post, but yes, I am indeed anti-mastigophorous, as the last time I whipped, I whipped it REAL GOOD. But there was a problem…
It all started one cool spring evening in a quiet, sleeping neighbourhood called Century City. As most of my ill-fated stories go, the tale starts at the bottom of a beer bottle. Nothing overly indulgent, just a little more on the milder side than my younger constitution was used to, but enough to ensure my life choices were on the questionable side.
A younger Hammer rides with people after having enjoyed a beer or two, travelling to a friend’s place. A place I have not been to yet. Upon arrival, many other friends, including @Wyvern, also arrives, and we have a merry time listening to music, playing around with all the cool toys we discover in this strange new friend’s place. It is then that I found it, THE WHIP!! Oh joy of joys, how my heart lept seeing such fine craftsmanship, such high-quality leather, such perfectly formed tip. Without hesitation, I grabbed it and ran outside, ready to cosplay the most badass Indiana Johannes the world has ever seen.
After a quick tutorial and some initial tries, I got my first crack. It filled my underaged heart, and I needed more. More cracks. Louder cracks. I was unstoppable. My arm felt like it would dislodge from my body, but I carried on. It was then when it happened…
My zeal was unrelenting. So where caution was needed for safe handling of such vicious, dangerous weapons, I wielded it like a child without care. But the whip is a fickle mistress and has a lethal bite. So during one attempted crack of the whip, an error in technique caused the whip to suddenly and violently whip back in my direction. It flew through the air at breakneck speeds and cracked right against me. In fact, it proceeded to whip me straight on my dangling dice. In an instant, a pain never before felt by mere mortal shot straight through my body, as I folded my enormous frame in half, crumpled up like a discarded love letter to an old flame. I fell to the ground as the world around me seemed to flicker in and out of existence.
Luckily I have a wonderfully supportive group of people I can call friends, ready to aid me in my hour of need. Only to find the group of jackals also on the floor, but not due to debilitating pain. Oh no, they were on the floor, laughing.
Luckily the damage was more to my ego and masculinity than to my gentleman’s sausage.
Hey! I found you a bag of frozen peas…
After washing my face from all the tears of laughter. I will never forget the sore stomach muscles i had from the laughter… No amount of crunches or othee ab workout worked as well as that laugh.
I did really feel bad for the hammer…
And see i never told a soul what happened there that night, just like i promised
pul·ta·ceous | \ ˌpəl-ˈtā-shəs \
- macerated and softened
- porridge like
- having a soft consistency (medical)
- resembling pap (medical)
- relating to beans (obsolete)
The mucous membrane was soft, pultaceous, and easily removed, tinged with dark green bile.
The cavity of the cyst usually contains a pultaceous mixture of shed epithelium, fluid fat, and hair.
If double boiler be used no water need be added, and thus the rice will be dry and not pultaceous.
- the involuntary and repetitive use of obscene language, as a symptom of mental illness or organic brain disease.
Late 19th century: from Greek kopros ‘dung’ + lalia ‘speech, chatter’.
So coprolalia is literally “shit talk”.
The More You Know…
People with Tourette don’t always blurt out obscenities. Coprolalia only affects about 1 in 10 people with Tourette. Coprolalia is a complex tic that is difficult to control or suppress, and people who have this tic often feel embarrassed by it.
Pretty much every CoD player.
Coprolalia, also known as my normal way of talking in any league race after 3 turns…
Only in Zandvoort
noun: xennial; plural noun: xennials
- a member of an age group born after Generation X and before the millennial generation (specifically in the late 1970s and early 1980s).
- someone born between 1977 (the end of the Generation X period) and 1983 (the beginning of the Millennial period.)
early 21st century: blend of x (as in Generation X) and millennial.
Xennials grew up in a time where landline phones were used to organize catch-ups with friends.
Neglected this thread a bit. Might be due to me being very pre-xennial and now old enough to use “I forgot about it” as a valid reason for my foibles and failings.
So am I millennial or xennial, or perhaps xellenial
| ˈpɛdəɡɒdʒi, ˈpɛdəɡɒɡi |
noun (plural pedagogies)
- the method and practice of teaching, especially as an academic subject or theoretical concept: the relationship between applied linguistics and language pedagogy.
late 16th century: from French pédagogie, from Greek paidagōgia ‘office of a pedagogue’, from paidagōgos (see pedagogue).
| pɪˈl(j)uːsɪd, pɛˈl(j)uːsɪd |
translucently clear: mountains reflected in the pellucid waters.
• easily understood; lucid: he writes, as always, in pellucid prose.
• (of music or other sound) clear and pure in tone: his pellucid singing tone.
“I woke up in the middle of the night, covered in a layer of my own moist pellucid mucus.”
Just the sound of the word makes it fit right in with that sentence
Fixed it for you
Bahahahaha all the better!