• Xenforo Cloud is upgrading us to version 2.3.8 on Monday February 16th, 2026 at 12:00 AM PST. Expect a temporary downtime during this process. More info here

Social War Room Lounge v.231: Frodo Pack Edition

Favorite cut of steak

  • Total voters
    26
Status
Not open for further replies.
hug that yellow you clown pussy
 
So guess who showed up a half hour ago crying on my ass?

Here's the thing about this woman. Timing. When Brady hit Scotty Miller for the td against Green Bay homegirl was standing in front of the the tv talking to me. Then the video game thing where I was cussing out the developers calling them cunts and cigarettes -she just happen to be in the next room. Her timing has been uncanny recently. So I figure it's worth a controlled relapse. And she shows up. Walks in, because she still had the key and almost gave me a heart attack. Immediately I had pretend six different things to her. I haven't slept, teeth chattering, jangly, not fit for human interaction. Now I have to Gregory Hines on no sleep all day. I was content to come down listening to Boards of Canada, maybe go to bed at 9pm. Now I have to play it way beyond situational Uncle Tomming. I told her I was sleep deprived because of that cloud of estrogen she spit in my face like Kendo Nagasaki. She kind of just blinked at me. I left out pertinent info, but this woman is skittish. You can get away with certain things with white women, but not being emotionally present isn't one of them. Aside from weed, she's never seen me high before. Now of course I could be honest with her and tell what's occurred, but after the video game thing I'm not sure what the parameters are anymore. She's all smiles across the room and I'm hiding behind a tablet tapping the Sherdog while trying not to grind my teeth. Horny as fuck, but the thought of laying a hand on her in this state, without her knowing is borderline sickening. Yet alls the mores the impulse.

The Word of God is Eternal. Whenever I break with that Holy Consult I pay dearly. She tried to hug me and it jangled me pretty bad. Tactile Blues. I planned this as a controlled relapse but who the fuck in this world can control their their relapses? Maybe this Lenten represents an instruction on patience and impulse control? Or maybe this is a controlled burn the psyche commits upon it's own self. A necessary self-sabotage?
 
salamander said:
So guess who showed up a half hour ago crying on my ass?

Here's the thing about this woman. Timing. When Brady hit Scotty Miller for the td against Green Bay homegirl was standing in front of the the tv talking to me. Then the video game thing where I was cussing out the developers calling them cunts and cigarettes -she just happen to be in the next room. Her timing has been uncanny recently. So I figure it's worth a controlled relapse. And she shows up. Walks in, because she still had the key and almost gave me a heart attack. Immediately I had pretend six different things to her. I haven't slept, teeth chattering, jangly, not fit for human interaction. Now I have to Gregory Hines on no sleep all day. I was content to come down listening to Boards of Canada, maybe go to bed at 9pm. Now I have to play it way beyond situational Uncle Tomming. I told her I was sleep deprived because of that cloud of estrogen she spit in my face like Kendo Nagasaki. She kind of just blinked at me. I left out pertinent info, but this woman is skittish. You can get away with certain things with white women, but not being emotionally present isn't one of them. Aside from weed, she's never seen me high before. Now of course I could be honest with her and tell what's occurred, but after the video game thing I'm not sure what the parameters are anymore. She's all smiles across the room and I'm hiding behind a tablet tapping the Sherdog while trying not to grind my teeth. Horny as fuck, but the thought of laying a hand on her in this state, without her knowing is borderline sickening. Yet alls the mores the impulse.

The Word of God is Eternal. Whenever I break with that Holy Consult I pay dearly. She tried to hug me and it jangled me pretty bad. Tactile Blues. I planned this as a controlled relapse but who the fuck in this world can control their their relapses? Maybe this Lenten represents an instruction on patience and impulse control? Or maybe this is a controlled burn the psyche commits upon it's own self. A necessary self-sabotage?
Click to expand...
Didn’t read lol
 
salamander said:
So guess who showed up a half hour ago crying on my ass?

Here's the thing about this woman. Timing. When Brady hit Scotty Miller for the td against Green Bay homegirl was standing in front of the the tv talking to me. Then the video game thing where I was cussing out the developers calling them cunts and cigarettes -she just happen to be in the next room. Her timing has been uncanny recently. So I figure it's worth a controlled relapse. And she shows up. Walks in, because she still had the key and almost gave me a heart attack. Immediately I had pretend six different things to her. I haven't slept, teeth chattering, jangly, not fit for human interaction. Now I have to Gregory Hines on no sleep all day. I was content to come down listening to Boards of Canada, maybe go to bed at 9pm. Now I have to play it way beyond situational Uncle Tomming. I told her I was sleep deprived because of that cloud of estrogen she spit in my face like Kendo Nagasaki. She kind of just blinked at me. I left out pertinent info, but this woman is skittish. You can get away with certain things with white women, but not being emotionally present isn't one of them. Aside from weed, she's never seen me high before. Now of course I could be honest with her and tell what's occurred, but after the video game thing I'm not sure what the parameters are anymore. She's all smiles across the room and I'm hiding behind a tablet tapping the Sherdog while trying not to grind my teeth. Horny as fuck, but the thought of laying a hand on her in this state, without her knowing is borderline sickening. Yet alls the mores the impulse.

The Word of God is Eternal. Whenever I break with that Holy Consult I pay dearly. She tried to hug me and it jangled me pretty bad. Tactile Blues. I planned this as a controlled relapse but who the fuck in this world can control their their relapses? Maybe this Lenten represents an instruction on patience and impulse control? Or maybe this is a controlled burn the psyche commits upon it's own self. A necessary self-sabotage?
Click to expand...
I just talked to jesus he told me you need to put down the pipe and open all the windows.
 
salamander said:
So guess who showed up a half hour ago crying on my ass?

Here's the thing about this woman. Timing. When Brady hit Scotty Miller for the td against Green Bay homegirl was standing in front of the the tv talking to me. Then the video game thing where I was cussing out the developers calling them cunts and cigarettes -she just happen to be in the next room. Her timing has been uncanny recently. So I figure it's worth a controlled relapse. And she shows up. Walks in, because she still had the key and almost gave me a heart attack. Immediately I had pretend six different things to her. I haven't slept, teeth chattering, jangly, not fit for human interaction. Now I have to Gregory Hines on no sleep all day. I was content to come down listening to Boards of Canada, maybe go to bed at 9pm. Now I have to play it way beyond situational Uncle Tomming. I told her I was sleep deprived because of that cloud of estrogen she spit in my face like Kendo Nagasaki. She kind of just blinked at me. I left out pertinent info, but this woman is skittish. You can get away with certain things with white women, but not being emotionally present isn't one of them. Aside from weed, she's never seen me high before. Now of course I could be honest with her and tell what's occurred, but after the video game thing I'm not sure what the parameters are anymore. She's all smiles across the room and I'm hiding behind a tablet tapping the Sherdog while trying not to grind my teeth. Horny as fuck, but the thought of laying a hand on her in this state, without her knowing is borderline sickening. Yet alls the mores the impulse.

The Word of God is Eternal. Whenever I break with that Holy Consult I pay dearly. She tried to hug me and it jangled me pretty bad. Tactile Blues. I planned this as a controlled relapse but who the fuck in this world can control their their relapses? Maybe this Lenten represents an instruction on patience and impulse control? Or maybe this is a controlled burn the psyche commits upon it's own self. A necessary self-sabotage?
Click to expand...
:eek:
 
tonni said:
I read the whole thing. It's seriously good. Dude is tripping balls and his landlord just walked in. He thinks it's his gf and he dipped his semi into a bowl of cereal to cool down.
Click to expand...

I read "semi" as "senri"
 
tonni said:
I read the whole thing. It's seriously good. Dude is tripping balls and his landlord just walked in. He thinks it's his gf and he dipped his semi into a bowl of cereal to cool down.
Click to expand...

Aside from mild tracer effect. I'm not tripping shit. I'm coming down or whatever.

Naw it's emotional vomit. And with this place being simultaneously a toilet and a source of news and discourse, I don't see a problem in spewing it here. The energy has to go somewhere, and this pandemic has been gnawing away at my traditional sounding boards. So a brother had to make do.

The important thing is I felt better having wrote whatever the fuck I wrote. Sure there may have been drool on it, but the act of writing it at that particular moment was balm.
 
Status
Not open for further replies.

Latest posts

Forum statistics

Threads
1,281,621
Messages
58,379,807
Members
176,017
Latest member
KTFOPerformance

Share this page

Back
Top