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Everything posted by JamesBrown

  1. Hmm, interesting. I don't think I'll be telling 144 people about this game. I'm not sure I know that many people. I'm not in love with my best friend in the eighth grade, whom I've not seen or spoken to since the eighth grade. The name for number seven is eerily spot on. I've got to stop thinking about that person. Number four? Nailed it. I can't figure out what "Gabriel's Oboe" says most about myself. Oh well, fun game.
  2. I think DJ's three for three on that round. For number three ("In this country, people believe it is good luck for a bird to poop on you.") is the answer, Brazil?
  3. Absolutely, DJ. Assuming I can still walk after sampling everything on these tables. Goodness!
  4. Interesting facts, Maera. Good research on your part. Based on year, month, and hour, I'm a Monkey, a Monkey, and a Rabbit.
  5. Good for you, Lily. (I would have pegged you as a sweet tea drinker, personally.) Brown-bagging lunches saves money. Figure a fast-food lunch is about ten bucks, versus two or three dollars for something brought from home. Call it forty bucks a week back into your pocket. If it were me, I'd set up a reward system. Every day I pack a lunch, I transfer eight dollars into a designated savings account for something fun. At the end of a year, I'd have up to two thousand dollars plus interest, enough to take a very nice vacation, or make a down payment on a new car, or get super gifts for the family, or...
  6. Wow! What a spread. Don't mind me. I'm just a Warder who happens to love sweeping pretty women off their feet on the dance floor.
  7. It is indeed, Lily. Too bad that our poor decisions affect others, like innocent kids.
  8. Okay, my Warders and Guests. Here's an opportunity for reflection, confession, and direction. Describe a day in your life that you'd like to re-live, knowing what you do now. I'll begin... When my son was about eight years old, he had been pestering me to take him to Chuck-E-Cheese. For those who don't know, Chuck-E-Cheese is an establishment created by arcade game designers who figured out they can make more money getting people to feed quarters to their games rather than sell them. So they invented an entertainment complex filled with arcade games, cranes, ball pits, animatronic mice singing show tunes--all things to make eight-year-old kids deliriously giddy. I personally don't care for the place--it's expensive, serves mediocre pizza, is noisy--but I'm not an eight-year-old kid, am I. So I relented and took my son. I forced him to eat a half a piece of pizza, then shoved some game tokens in his hand and told him to go away. Meanwhile, I parked myself in a corner booth and buried my nose in a book--a WoT novel, if memory serves. I kept one eye on my son, and he didn't seem to be having the fun fun FUN that he thought he would have. He'd been to Chuck-E-Cheese before with friends his age, at a birthday party, say, and during those times he ran around with a permanent grin. But this time, with only himself for company, he seemed low-key. He was reluctant to plunk down his finite supply of tokens on games he didn't know, and of course 'competitive' games like air hockey and skeeball are no fun played alone. So he wandered around from one area to another, watching other kids shriek and shout, but he was merely an observer. Meanwhile, his old man is planted in a booth, tight-lipped with frustration and wishing he was anywhere else. After about an hour, he finally worked through his allotted tokens, and we went home. Absolutely shameful, no? So that's a day that I would relive, and I would leave the damn book at home. I would divvy up the tokens between the two of us, and I would play with my son the way a father is supposed to. If he was undecided how to spend his tokens, I would give subtle pushes of direction--"Let's try this one! How about giving that one a go?" Years later I apologized to my son for neglecting my parental duties like that, and he said he didn't remember that day at all. So I suppose I should be grateful for that. But I missed the chance to form a father-son bond with him that he should remember.
  9. Cool. thanks @Arie I'll put the infinity symbol by your name.
  10. Welcome @Jacen al'Miere This will be your personal class as you become acquainted with the White Tower. Your mentor, @LilyElizabeth will guide you as you explore both the Tower and yourself. Best regards, JamesBrown Sword Captain
  11. Thanks to @Liitha and her suggestion, Kaylee and I would like to know how many newbies you are willing to mentor at one time. That way you won't get overwhelmed. @Arie @LilyElizabeth @Dar'Jen Ab Owain @Cross @Taymist @Cairos
  12. @LilyElizabeth , we have a new mintee that could use a warm, benevolent, yet "tough-but-fair" Mentor. They go by the name of Jacen al'Miere. Thank you, dear.
  13. Welcome, @Jacen al'Miere Mother has requested that you also read the following DragonMount Code of Conduct post here. Once done, we'll get you a Mentor shortly to help you get settled in.
  14. Yeah, the barest wisping of dust is all we got. Given that the temperatures the day before were in the seventies, you can be sure that it didn't last long.
  15. Every five days we have a morning of cold rain. Even a spot of sleet. And last week--gasp!--actual snow!
  16. A Tarantula, definitely. Would you rather know the manner of your death? Or the exact date of your death?
  17. Whoah. Good luck, Lily. I'm sure you'll be impressive.
  18. I wrote this review for another site, and I thought I'd share it here. read “The Last Pirate of New York: A Ghost Ship, A Killer, and the Birth of a Gangster Nation," by Rich Cohen (228 pages). Many people enjoy stories of gangsters, and modern-day gangsters swap stories of their forefathers like Al Capone and Lucky Luciano. But there’s one man whom even the famous historical gangsters look back on with admiration and awe: Albert Hicks. In 1860, just before the American Civil War, a small cargo boat was found adrift in New York Harbor. On board was a horror of blood and slaughter, the crew of four missing, presumed dead. But one of the crew, Albert Hicks, was later found at the end of a trail of booze, debauchery, and lavish spending. New York detectives arrested him and charged him–but with what? Murder? Where are the bodies? Theft? Too light a crime given the butchery found. Finally, he was charged with Piracy on the High Seas, despite the crime taking place in sight of New York, if for no other reason than because piracy still carried the death penalty. The public became fascinated with the case, the Crime of the Century, and hundreds crowded the courthouse to get a glimpse of the infamous man with the handsome face. Hicks denied any wrongdoing, and remained calm and taciturn during the trial. But the evidence was too great, and he was found guilty, sentenced to be hanged in short order. In his final days, Hicks opened up to reporters, wanting to sell his story so that his Irish bride and young son could have some means after his execution. And what a story. He recounted his life growing up on a farm, quickly tiring of the soil, and running off to sea. He sailed around the world developing a regular pattern. Finding work aboard a whaler or cargo ship, he would charm his mates with his handsome face and winsome personality. But boredom would set in, and he would convince the crew to mutiny, or he would murder the captain for his sea chest and take off onto a tropical isle. Hicks ran hotels and casinos in South America, robbing his wealthier clients after they checked out. He smuggled rum and slaves in the Caribbean. He killed Polynesian natives because it amused him, always staying one step ahead of the law or his vengeful shipmates. Until finally, while wanting to make some money for his wife and son, he boarded an oyster boat in New York with the intention of killing the crew, stealing $150, and escaping to freedom. Except his luck ran out. His hanging was attended by roaring thousands, come to see the stoic antihero in his final throes. Thus a legend was born, a man who both thrilled and terrified a populace that already lived in a dangerous and horror-filled city. His legend continued–PT Barnum made a wax dummy to show off the monstrous Hicks, and he even made an appearance in a Twilight Zone episode. Hicks felt he had been wronged by the world, and he wanted to take his revenge on the world–something with which many men on both sides of the law can sympathize. Author Rich Cohen tells a terrific tale of gruesome crime, thrilling adventure, and infamous legends. I highly enjoyed it.
  19. There are few phrases more pregnant with possibility than... Once Upon a Time.
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