It's been a long shitty day, can I just hang out over here

Drunken Meat Fist said:
I don't know why I said it was shitty, I bought a group of festive plebeians an oversized sack of peanuts and invitedthem over. This girl kept pretending to stare into my good eye, godblesshershart. I said you're coming over right? I just live down the road over here...ya know, just under the church, no, you're the man, just follow me with your hugs and balloons, don't judge, I got the good shit here, and I know some folks, you're 27 steps away from the real thing.
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Why is this posted in the MMA discussion section of this site? Genuinely curious.
 
When your ex texts you that she misses your parents, does she also miss you?
 
Yes she does.

I went a did a goofy thing and then found my way back here. You're asking a question in my stupid thread so I imagine you're not just completely pissing on me, I don't read things right. I hug some shit. I don't assume you don't know, but you have a Jake Lamotta avatar. I have this for ya brother. Not as a fucking smart ass, you've probably seen it a million times, but for me too. God Bless. The first lines probably ring true.
 
thelittleman said:
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That stung a little bit, you can't always hear what you sound like in your head, that sucks, somebody else from Rumblefish played Bukowski. Work to be done for sure, I'm too tired to give a whole bunch of a shit, I just try to throw out some benevolent intention for an incongruous laugh to one in ten, and let the rocks falls. It genuinely hurts that probably that one in ten gets anything. I kinda open a vein and to hell with it. This place has saved my life for a long time. The obnoxiousness of the forum choice is
 
Drunken Meat Fist said:
That hippo, ahaha. Thank you man. I have too many windows open, it's fucking jarring sonically, I've got innocent when you dream with this shitty cocauphany, boy that spelling looks not right, cacophony, nope, cocophany, fanny.

Hey guess when, I was a younger, smart asser punk fuck piece of shit version of myself, ...if you can stretch your mind about me that way. Picture yours, sitting polite, 9 a.m. in the mall. Been waiting for this for a couple weeks. I'm tucked under my table. I look over to my left, there's a couple cleanshaven little gradeschool motherfucker, .....to my right, some serious gimped nasty mugged old upstreeters positioning the comquats of their mind, yeah that ain't spelled right either, cumquats, thatlooks disgustingly right. You shoulda saw me at the bar, I was talking at group from Sescatchuan, yeah that don't look right, Seschatuan, there we go, we'll I brung over a pitcher of yellow waving introdruction. There's some, i'm sure nice body's and this one. She was really pretty, she was wasn't pretty, she was a generic girl with a generic blouse and kind of a bubbly little ass in stewardess type slacks where you buy in bulk, and and she had a kind of fuck you look like she was sucking on a particularly dated Norwegian carmel her son grabbed of the pavement and shoved in her mouth to stop an argument about the state of the Balinese theater. She was the one. I was sure my physical distractions would light her synapses right up. And I had peanuts. I sat down and distributed my picture and said where you folks from, I'm smelling some working man Pennsylvania armsweat, and some of that perfume you smell across from Victoria's Secret, You're not Victoria are you, honey? With those thigh boots, c'mon. Can I offer you a peanut? Ice queen no smile. Well, what do you do with a dry cunt who doesn't like a warm peanut. You do the thumb joke where you pull your thumb apart, while looking in her dead eye, and that's it, that's always thaws the ice queens.

Back to me at the mall. I couple folks who used to love me are standing behind me at the table, I think there's twentyfive or so of us. Here he come, oh, six one or two, balding a bit, legendary maniac sideburns, death stare, pursed frog lips, eyes that size up furniture for their life span. The Octopus. He played Bobby Fisher, hang on, I didn't give a shit about chess but I know it looks cool to be good at it, like you automatically know someshit your shitty player buddy doesn't. You're smart and he's forever stupid in all thing and there's nothing you can fuckng do about it. Youre the chimp that brings the stick to squeeze out the bugs and gives you his toilet paper.

Well, the Octopus shakes your hand but there's no meaning in it at all. He could be laying your head down as your dying with the same non chalance, goddamn that's spelled right. To cut to the chase, I outlasted a bunch of geriactric retards who thought they were waiting for Frank Sinatra, and some piss squirters who got the day off for chess club and a shot at the paper. You can see my chessboard in the newspaper. I figured if I'm beating dummies or I'm some kind of gifted chess prodigy in a small pond I'll find out. I was taught by two good lifelong poker players. He boxed me in in seven moves. I couldn't do a fucking thing. He fucked me like a cardinal, so instead of playing it out rationally, I knew I was his bitch there were still two kids playing, I went retard, not so was folding shop, but to quote the bard, as one judge said to the other, if you can't be just be arbitrary. He stopped at my board four times and then he looked me in the eye and laughed.

I met him again last year and we talked for a couple hours, I mentioned he dismantled my ego like he was petty a carp, he said he was sorry, he plays chess every now and then at coffee shops and little gatherings. But we yapped about the world, he's not a social guy, and I ain't much to write home about. I said, I played you way back n 91, and I threw the game. He said, I swear to fucking god, you made three moves into five. Why would you do that. Because my kids were watching and who would know the difference.

Anyway, I got rid of my chessboard and haven't played a game ever since. We talked about the world and when he's bored he plays legendary chess games for fun, both sides. He says people don't care anymore. He got kicked out of tournaments as a kid because no one could play with him, a little kid. People are shit.

Anyway, he's coming into town in a few days, We talked about Russian art and political minutiae miasma and the cost of a donut, and the flux of chair, we talked about a hundred thousand things and then he just stared at me forever and held his gaze. He said this to me, Tom, You are Unique. ..what you do with that. I said, considering the source, how many minutes ago did you have me on the line.

He'll be back in a couple days, when you're a schlub, talking to a true shaker, I asked him everything I wanted, so now, in my soul, just pedestrian buddies, architecture, that ain't spelled right, he doesn't watch movies, he's blind in any significant way, but he likes shitty tv as white noise. The few who matter stumbled on our conversation and said, you know that guy, what the fucking hell did you talk about?! WTF? What a horribly belittling thing to ask. The Octopus called me unique. I got that in my pocket, kind of fun personally, it was a good conversation, Just two weird fucking idiots talking about Guadi and Bobby Darin and John Singer Sergeant watercolors, and why Montana is boring, you could watch it all day.
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I've been trying to figure out what's happening here for a number of hours now and all I can come up with is that Thomas Pynchon secretly has an identical twin who was dropped on his head as an infant and now posts on Sherdog.
 
Today I made myself a promise.
"Think before you act, before you think, before you act."

I considered it and then considered it prior to doing so, and then took on the role of King Lear.
 
Kryptt said:
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Am i the only one wondering how this turned out?
 
Dude what if all the posters on here were like real people in real life? That would be weird.
 
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Sometimes when I’ve had a shit day, this kind of thing cheers me up.

There’s a lot of unnecessary butthurt in this thread. At least it’s not about Conor.
 
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