[limpidglitch]

I can do homeostasis.

 

[dj_mocok]

I have herpes

 

[Mitchell.lax]

I'm a Sciences student that works in mental health who does MMA and weightlifting... Thats about all I've got.

 

[krmathis]

I am a one of a kind!

 

[Gatto]

I'm a girl and I can kick your ass in Halo

 

[Duggeh]

Quote:

Originally Posted by Gatto /img/forum/go_quote.gif I'm a girl and I can kick your ass in Halo

I'm a boy and can kick your ass in Red Alert 2.

 

[Audirephilos]

I'm a guy and I can kick your ass...period........jk!

People always say that I have the patience of a saint, or an angel, or something like that........dammit....

......Jk...I do have a lot of patience!!

 

[SR-71Panorama]

my ability for noting failure of internet forum threads.


FAIL

 

[Ttvetjanu]

Quote:

Originally Posted by catachresis /img/forum/go_quote.gif I can wiggle both my ears. One at a time. At will. I frequently do.

I can too. Ownd.

I got accepted into several universities and engineering schools but decided to join a culinary school to become a chef.

 

[thrillmetoo]

On the one hand, I am unquestionably one of the most indecisive people in the world. On the other hand I am absolutely uncertain, I think.

 

[olblueyez]

I can breath through my ears.

 

[TheRobbStory]

I can piss 8 feet.

 

[milkweg]

Quote:

Originally Posted by olblueyez /img/forum/go_quote.gif I didnt turn down the 3 some.

Well...there was a 3rd time...

 

[kelesh7]

Brain tumor, baby!

 

[Wmcmanus]

Trying not to look directly at my belly, or to be too obvious about her dancing eyes as she's checking my grossly unfit body out from head to toe while attempting to assess my age and general level of social retardation after hearing enough about my background in accounting, law, and private banking, not to mention the whole Santa thing that didn't happen to work this time but at least helped to limit the Dough Boy demerits because at least it's good for something and not all middle aged fat guys can say that about their beer drinking, fried chicken eating guts -- it's kind of hit or miss, by the way -- the Santa thing -- and not nearly as effective as taking my neighbor's Pomeranian to the beach, which is a sure winner in the sense that they immediately pay attention to the dog rather than me, but assume that I must be Ok despite my flaws. So anyway, where were we? Oh ya, the conversation...

With a hint of interest, accented by a gentle smile and what I thought might have been a slight twinkle in her eyes, but I couldn't be sure. "So what else do you do for fun?"

I pause briefly for a moment, then decide to go for it. It's my life, damit, and if it's not good enough for her, well then... then... well, then I'll just go home alone again tonight. That's no problem. I know the way, and besides, that leaves more beer and fried chicken for me anyway. "Well, I'm a moderator at Head-Fi.org. I spend a lot of time there. Cool place."

Now I get a really strange look from this young (mid 20s), impressionable, and hot -- extremely hot -- chick I've been trying to impress at a social function. So hot, in fact, that I didn't notice for the longest time that she too was checking out me. Or wait. Maybe that's where the problem began. Do I stare too much? Do I look hungry? All these thoughts as I'm awaiting a verbal response, as though the nonverbal wasn't enough to give me a hint about what she's thinking. But that strange look in her eyes also seems inquisitive, so maybe she really does want to know about Head-Fi.

So I decide to continue with it, but now even more reluctantly, almost apologetically, but still braving the storm that's about to ruin my brief moment with this bronze goddess. But the rain hasn't arrived yet so maybe I can find some umbrella-like words that will somehow stave off the disaster. As I hear the thunder of rejection off in the distance and see bolts of lighting fill the sky of my mind's eye, nearer and nearer they come, I know that it's now or never. I've really got to impress her, so here I go, but as casually and nonchalantly as possible so as to instill in her a sense of normalcy about me and, well... who I am, what I do, and how that can help us to connect. "It's an online thing.. you know, an internet forum."

She slowly but decidedly adds a pair of lifted eyebrows to the strange look she's already giving me which is now held in the form of a eye popping stare, apparently in an effort to punctuate the speechless effect that has now been lingering in the air for a bit too long for me not to have noticed. I think that she was thinking that perhaps I somehow hadn't noticed her combined state of shock and utter disinterest. Seems sensible that she would think this, or so I thought, given that I had braved onward with it in spite of her nonverbal attempts to stop me from doing so.

So I figured it was time for enthusiasm. It's my life, after all, that I'm selling here. So enthusiastically, I continued: "We even have meets!"

"Meeeeeeeeeeeets?" No need to describe her facial expresison, body language or verbal inflection on this one, now is there?

"Yes, yes! Meets. That's what we call them. Meets. M-e-e-t, not m-e-a-t. It's when we all get together to sort of geek out with headphones. Listen to all sorts of music in varying combinations of..."

Suddenly I pause and think "Whoa!" to myself and "Slow down with this. You've got an opportunity here..." So I decide at this point that the only way out is to blame it on Head-Fi, the Americans, and all that is wrong with the people I associate with -- as opposed to, well... me! Afterall, I'm standing this battle alone and nobody else from Head-Fi is living on this Island, so there is nobody here who can confirm or disconfirm my story. "Screw it!", I say to myself -- I'll blame it all on them!!!

So I continue again, but no longer terribly interested in her reaction. I'm just trying now to get a smile, or even some laughter, or better yet that "dumb bronze" tap on the shoulder combined with a "You're so funny!" utterance. Incidentally, we don't have any dumb blondes in the Caribbean so I call them 'dumb bronze' instead.

"Okay, so think of it as being like a Tupperware party, only that it's headphones instead, and nobody is selling anything. So I guess that's another difference. Well, that and the fact that we're not a bunch of housewives."

"Tupperware?"

"Oh, sorry. Cultural reference. I keep forgetting that I haven't lived in the States for a long time. But that's where a lot of my memories are from. I lose track of time as well. I keep writing 1977 on my checks."

"1977?"

Laughs gently, more at himself and the situation he's in, on the hunt again for a "woman child" who just might be half his age and is, of course, gifted with beautiful silky smooth skin multiple shades darker than his own. A worthy notch on the headboard if he's ever seen one... "I'm just messing with you. Tupperware is an American thing. And then -- as I thought about it and saw how confused you looked -- well... uh..." (I continue rather sheepishly, trying to play down our obvious age difference) "It's kind of an age thing as well. My mom and her friends used to have Tupperware parties when I was a kid... so that's what got me on to the 1977 joke. I was a kid then. Well, sort of. More like a teenager. But you know how people write 2008 on their checks even though it's January of 2009? I'm still writing 1977, although even the Tupperware parties were over by then."

"You're so funny!"

"I thought you would say that. Anyway, so we just get together to listen to each others headphones, CD players, and amplifiers. Even those old fashioned turntables sometimes."

"How do you do that?"

Still not knowing where I'm going with this, but at least I have her attention now, and she's starting to make some dumb bronze moves, so why not forge on? "No" (her ultimate power move) seems so far away now that I'm in my comfort zone -- talking about headphones as I like to do. "Well, everyone brings their best gear and sets up headphones-based systems so that other people will get a chance to listen to how well that system reproduces their favorite music!"

"You mean like Walkman's? Don't they all basically sound the same? That's kind of wierd."

In a self-effacing manner to show her that I really do understand how odd my hobby must seem to the uninitiated... "No, it's really weird! Seriously. But there are some amazing headphones out there that make music sound WAY better than you've ever heard it before. You would be totally blown away."

"You mean louder?"

"No, better! It improves the clarity, lets you hear the inner details of the music and let's you close your eye and imagine that you were right there in the recording studio. At the meets we talk about things like instrument separation, sound stage, and simblance."

Having read my self-mocking manner of expression and thus understanding that I'm now using the 'lingo' to show her just how geeky it can become at these strange 'meeeeeeeets', she decides to play along. "So who goes to these meets, just you and a bunch of pimple faced Star Trek geeks?"

"Ya, basically."

"They don't talk about D&D at these meets, do they?"

"Not that I've ever heard, but I don't hang out with the DIY guys, so it's hard to say one way or the other." (No offense to anyone who may now be feeling a sharp pain somewhere just South of the belt region.)

"Whew! You kind of had me scared for a while. So what do you do, fly to the States and then drive to these meets?"

"Ya, exactly. I go in my motorhome."

Stumped again, but suddenly more interested than ever... "You've got a motorhome? You mean like a camper?"

"No, actually, it's a huge rig. I've got a street legal race car that I drag along in the trailer behind the motorhome. The whole thing is 83 feet long."

Bells-a-ding'n, whistles-a-blowin', horns-a-honk'n and all other matters of interest that had previously been floating around in her mind -- grocery lists, hair and nails appointments, whatever it is that hot young women think about when talking to fat old farts -- suddenly suspended. "Oh my God! You must be rich!?!? You've got an awesome life. Can I come with you?" (As she give me the dumb bronze tap on the shoulder I've been waiting for.)

"You mean, to go to a Head-Fi meet with me?"

"No! Just to hang out in the motorhome! I could go shopping while you do that, but I don't think my credit card works in the States..."

"Hey, check this out!" (Pointing to my belly.) "I call them flabs! Get it? Flabs, not abs."

"You're so funny."

"I thought you would say that."

"Really? Why?" (As she leans in and starts to play with her hair in an obvious fake flirt, I'll make you think you can have this, sort of way.)

"Just a hunch. Anyway, ya, I'm cool with that. Just let me know when you want to come and don't forget to bring a couple of bikinis."

"Oh reeeeeeeally now?"

"Yes, reeeeeeealy now! And no fair talking about your boyfriend when you're with me!"

"Okay, but only if you promise to moderate me!"

So there you have it. In case you ever wondered if there were any perks that came with the job of being a Head-Fi moderator...