[QUOTE]Depends on which side of the country you are from.
Ik woon in zuid Limburg.[/QUOTE]

figures.

ik woon in zuid-holland

Ik woon in zuid-Californien.

Californië*

anyway I knew you must be from down there I saw that train station thing in the newspaper

[QUOTE=bunit9488;16828460]somehow i knew you were going to say this[/QUOTE]

:lol:
Is that a bad thing?
I'm a very self concious man, As above, so wil it happen below.
A hairy chin deserves to be complimented by a hair ballsack.


[QUOTE]figures.

ik woon in zuid-holland [/QUOTE]
Limburgisprettybut poope if you need to go anywhere inland.
I went to de Baroeg last week for Dutch Doom Days, which is like a 2,5 hour train trip.

[QUOTE]anyway I knew you must be from down there I saw that train station thing in the newspaper [/QUOTE]
Yup. Het mooie Maankwartier in ons 'prachtige' Heerlen. haha.

[QUOTE=the2stranger;16828457]Nope.
I'm all natural.
:cool:[/QUOTE]

how cute.

Indeed.

Anyway: I think we could come up with some formula.
Every once in a while we have ball shaving/pubic hairdressing convos.

np: Aethenor - I
hmmmm creepy noise like music.

sounds good. or we could meet up and bring pics and have some fun discussions.

listen to burial chamber trio. now. s/t.

[QUOTE]:lol:
Is that a bad thing?
I'm a very self concious man, As above, so wil it happen below.
A hairy chin deserves to be complimented by a hair ballsack.
[/QUOTE]

your logic serves you well

It does.
And it would serve me well if I'd go and read and hit the sack afterwards.
Responsibilities in the morning. :(

Night MX!

[IMG]http://i36.tinypic.com/4smiwp.jpg[/IMG]

is dis siqq

s'alright

i need to talk to jake about dolla billz because im broke as ****

do you accept hugs as payment?????????

mr ron this isnt kindergarten

so me eating paste right now is a bad idea then

[QUOTE=Mr. Ron;16829114]do you accept hugs as payment?????????[/QUOTE]

lol wut

you heard me you sexy bitch

ony from u mr ron

ok so I'm writing a short story. This is all that I have so far. Its rough and unedited.

its a zombie apocalypse in England in 1895. Tell me wut u tink





Mr. Harrington’s head felt as though it had been cast into a foggy ocean, causing him to feel dizzy and off balanced; his stomach convulsing in sick knots of nausea. The revolver, the cold implement he used in his disturbing devices just a few moments ago, dangled mockingly in his pale, quaking hand. It had four out of six empty shell casings in its cylinder. MONSTER! SCOUNDREL! You sick perverted dog! You deserve worse than them! How could you? Your own wife…your own childr- no…it was the only thing I could do! You had to put them to sleep, to save them from….them….those blasphemes….those putrid creatures from the abyss of hell!


Thick streams of vomit poured from his mouth and out onto the wood paneled floor.


Brought now to his knees, Mr. Harrington wept uncontrollably; coughing up phlegm and mucus in a dazed fury. He’d been a simple man all of his days; lifelong owner of Harrington and Sons drug co., father of two daughters and one son, husband to his beloved Gloria…all of which were now dashed and broken. Like old, fading pictures in twisted, broken frames; mere afterthoughts of some violent calamity. I have nothing! I’m a tireless beast! An embarrassment that must be put down for good!


The muffled cries and screams of the condemned from outside echoed softly into his drugstore.


“It’s almost like music…”


People were being chased down the cobble road in front of his business on the corner of Williams and Hutherby, where Harrington and Sons drug co. resided, and where Mr. Harrington lived above it with his model British family. The year was 1895, the time was 6:30 AM, and the moment was surreal. People were crushing others underfoot, scrambling over belongings and some even sitting down in desperate prayer; pleading to their respective deity, accepting their grisly fate…most of which were the elderly, incapable of fleeing fast enough.


“They haven’t found me out just yet.”


The front of his store, facing the corner, was thin plate glass; it was only a matter of time. One of “them” ran past, with a terrible howl, and bumped into the front entrance, leaving behind an offal of red and black liquid which slowly ran down the glass in a sick pattern of gore to which Mr. Harrington equated to the branches of a crimson tree, splattered and ghastly. “God…please….no, no no no! No, there is no god here! ABANDONED!”


He weakly got back on his feet, wary stilts supporting the dying structure of a broken man. Mr. Harrington stumbled almost drunkenly over to the crucifix on the finely wallpapered west wall of his store and tore it down from its nail. “HEAR ME CHRIST! Why have you left us!? Don’t leave me here to these….these things! I swear to you! I swear I will…I-I will….”


No reply. No help would come streaming out of the heavens for him and his family…for anyone. The damned were alive, being devoured by the deceased. Mr. Harrington was officially alone. He flung the holy symbol across the room, shattering some medicine bottles and scattering apothecary supplies across the front counter.
The chaotic din beyond the store’s front door was unceasing.



Strong tremors coursed through his entire body, urging him to sit down. Mr. Harrington shuffled impotently over to the staircase that led up to his above store apartment and flopped down on the dusty bottom step. His hands covered his face, hiding himself and pretending when he took them away, this would all just be some fantasy, some twisted lamentation dreamed up a psychopath that somehow found itself into reality through some unknown path that crossed through Mr. Harrington’s reality.

so yeah my girlfriend's boss was talking to me about music today... and he asked me what my band sounded like, i was like like we have a lot of brand new and dredg influences my friends tell me and he was like you need to grow up and start listening to music that's not whiny. so i was a little pissed at this point, and was like alright well what do you listen to and he was like "kings of leon"

i proceeded to laugh in his face for a good 30 seconds.

I try to avoid talking about music to people as much as possible

I'd be embarrassed if I listened to deathcore, too.

good thing I don't

[QUOTE=asdemonsburn;16829564]I try to avoid talking about music to people as much as possible[/QUOTE]

Yeah mang it's hard for people to understand I listen to mostly underground from other countries.

hahahaa

[QUOTE=asdemonsburn;16829567]good thing I don't[/QUOTE]

LOL

asdemonsburn - 508 posts in the deathcore thread....hmmmm

[QUOTE=Txus;16829573]LOL

asdemonsburn - 508 posts in the deathcore thread....hmmmm[/QUOTE]

3/4 of that is arguing w/ mappy

[url]http://www.last.fm/user/asdemonsburn[/url]

there u go

Your musical compatibility with asdemonsburn is Very Low

Music you have in common includes Cynic, Sigh, Protest the Hero, Blotted Science and Gorod.

then he started like knocking my band and he hadnt even heard what we sound like. i was like lolwhut. it took all my willpower to not sucker punch the **** out of him.

I talked about music once to my manager, he said I looked emo, then I said I like death metal and he called me goth. Meh. One day he played some sepultura and asked me if I liked it, I just said, "yeah its ok"