- Sep 22, 2009
- Reaction score
Jesus. Apparently they killed Mr. Peanut. He's dead.
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They obviously lack virtue.But before things move on, which one of you Gentleman cosplay freaks is involved in this human rights debacle?
Local officials apologized, but the crackdown on a common — and comfortable — practice has raised a rare outcry over privacy in a country accustomed to surveillance.www.nytimes.com
Deuteronomy 23:1I always remember that line from the Bible:
"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who drives a crappy car to enter the kingdom of God, for he or she may do illegal things to get back in the black. Whether or not it is justified to exclude people based on what they drive, who can say? Let us not judge people based on their exclusionary behavior, advised Jesus."
This is so true. I had to yell at this guy at my office, in front of dozens of people, for a lack of grace and rectitude because he didn't have surgeon's cuffs on his jacket. Worse, he didn't know what I was talking about, it was a ski jacket and that he was just delivering flowers. I can't believe people just wear ski jackets in public now. We used to have standards.Dear mr. VP of HRM
I appreciate your concern regarding my car and financial situation. I can assure you that my situation is perfectly fine but my priorities might be different from yours. After all a car only carries my to and from work. As we now have opened this door to personal concern I would like to express my concern regarding your suits and their buttonholes which clearly are not made by hand. Some might believe that a buttonhole is simply to close your jacket but it can imply so much more. I, with my priorities, am fully aware of the cost of hand made buttonholes. I do not know how much you earn, but given your title and responsibility it must be more than me. If you wish I can give you contact details to a decent coat maker that can adress your issue.
Dear VP of finance.
I would like to extend my concer to your shirts as well. As many of us know your shirt cought fire on the company christmas party. This is a strong indication that it is not made of 100 % cotton. You may be a victim of the simonnot goddard fraud or simply not pay enough attention to your choice of shirts. I would be happy to point you in the direction of a competent shirt maker.
I very much look forward to our meeting and a possibility to discuss our different priorities.
Loving this thread also, has become a daily check-in for me.... Dude please write a new controversial thing this is getting to be a major bummer in my life and I CAN'T STOP CHECKING IN HERE FOR SOME REASON.
Picked them up from the printer’s yesterday.— I mention.I'm surprised this discussion has gone this far without a single mention of American Psycho
Also never drink with a Russian. I met the friend of a then girlfriend in grad school, maybe 135 lbs soaking wet, and not wanting to be shown up, agreed to drink with him. He polished off 20 shots of vodka over the course of a few hours. I tapped out after 10 (I think) in about the same time, and most of the night was hazy, but at some time I was walking down Colorado boulevard in Pasadena with a bunch of Russians singing Russian songs with them - I speak about 10 words of Russian, including the names of countries and cities.Do you have a high heat tolerance?
Not going to lie, my ego was absolutely destroyed after that night. I would normally challenge anyone, but that night really killed me.
Another time, when I was an undergrad, I was invited to a grad student party. I wanted to go to grad school so badly at the time. I thought being an academic was the coolest thing. So I was obviously super, super psyched that these grad students thought I was cool enough to be invited to their party.
Anyway, the two guys I was friends with were of Polish and English descent. They invited me into the kitchen to have drinks, but they kept knocking back these shots. I wasn't going to let myself look dumb in front of all these cool people, so I tried to keep up with them. They kept knocking drinks back and back and back. I normally don't even knock drinks back, I sip gently and slowly like a polite little mouse. But I didn't want to let my hosts down.
I don't even remember what happened, to be honest. My only memory is waking up briefly and finding myself laying stomach down on the host's bed while puking into a bucket. One of the grad students was patting me on the back. The next day, like a schmuck, I went back to that house with a huge hangover and profusely apologized.