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Andy_Copland

*sigh* Another nutbar

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So today is another scorching hot day and im waiting for a train at my station. This place has glass shelters and no buildings as its a tiny red neck kinda place. Anyway. I decide to walk to the only shade which is under a bike shed.

This dude is standing there with his little battery clock radio and starts talking to me about....enzyms. Yes hes got something called the "sprouters handbook" or something. So i try my best to be polite and he procceeds to show me highlighted pages about the benfits of this shit, im not kidding the book looked like it was as old as the cold war.

He then starts talking about radiotion from phones and how on a "bald persons head you can see the radiation making the veins swell to the brain." In the end i get bored and start reading my BPA mag to which he says "Oh yes would love to skydive, all that fresh air, your getting 100% oxygen that must be good for you"

I started feeling hypoxic and rode out the rest of the time in the sun.
1338

People aint made of nothin' but water and shit.

Until morale improves, the beatings will continue.

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As long as they don't seem violent or smell too incredibly bad, I'll listen to whatever they have to say.

In Barnes&Noble the other day, browsing around, and this fairly normal looking woman started asking me what I did for fun. First thought is it's a pickup line, since I am such a jaw-droppingly handsome example of pure manhood, but it's weird because she appears to be older than my mother.

So I talk to her for a little bit, and she follows me around the store while I shop. Apparently the slightest polite word from me unlocked the gates to her brain, and she started this non-stop stream of consciousness narrative about her job, her home, the neighbors who she likes but who hate her, the good-for-nothing bum who she's dating every once in a while but she actually despises, all mixed in with comments about various books that I'd pick up and consider.


Then she told me there's a secret code built into all bowling alleys.


I tried to get her to talk about the bowling alley code, but she refused to say anything else about it, and eventually left to find somebody else to talk to. I think she was disappointed that I wasn't going to put out.

So I considered the conversation worthwhile, because buried under all that mundane daily life trivia, there was this utterly fascinating revelation about bowling alleys. A bowling alley conspiracy, people. Just imagine the possibilities.

Matt

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THAT'S IT!!!! A conspiracy!!

Now why didn't I think of that????

So THAT'S where all those 6-10 splits come from...freakin' sabateurs....>:(. I say hang 'em all by the balls or pin 'em to the wall...er, no puns intended...well maybe just a little.

:D:D>:(:D:D
My reality and yours are quite different.
I think we're all Bozos on this bus.
Falcon5232, SCS8170, SCSA353, POPS9398, DS239

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If you own a pair of bowling shoes, I think that makes you very suspect. Six pairs!? You are undoubtedly part of the Bowling Alley Code cabal, and I shouldn't even be talking to you, 'cause you could have me whacked just for what I know!:o

Matt

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I actually encountered a real live British redneck once in Oklahoma. He was born and raised in G.B., moved to the U.S., and somehow fell into the whole pickup driving, country music listening, tobacco chewing, hunting and fishing redneck lifestyle. Had a cowboy hat, huge belt buckle, the whole works.

Bizarre hearing that accent butchering a Garth Brooks song.

Matt

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