m1lk

No. The weightlifting thread is only important if it be for men. Otherwise its 20 on the floor if it be for home.

no gym for home

As so many things do, it all started out innocently.

My Internet Service Provider used to have offices in a shopping center before they moved to their (comparatively) lush accommodations elsewhere. There was a drop box at that original location. The monthly bill was due, and thus, there but for the Grace of the Net I went.

It was about 9:30 p.m. when I left. From my relatively isolated apartments, it's about 10-15 minutes or so to downtown (Abilene has a population of about 110,000).

Right next to Camalott Communications' old location is a $1.50 movie theater. At the time, the place was featuring that masterwork of modern film, Mortal Kombat. I drove by the theater on the way into the center proper and pulled into an empty parking space.

Using the glow of the marquee to write out my check, I was startled to hear a knock on the driver's-side window of my car.

I looked over and saw two children staring at me from street. I need to describe them, with the one feature (you can guess what it was) that I didn't realize until about half-way through the conversation cleverly omitted.

Both appeared to be in that semi-mystical stage of life children get into where you can't exactly tell their age. Both were boys, and my initial impression is that they were somewhere between 10-14.

Boy No. 1 was the spokesman. Boy No. 2 didn't speak during the entire conversation -- at least not in words.

Boy No. 1 was slightly taller than his companion, wearing a pull-over, hooded shirt with a sort of gray checked pattern and jeans. I couldn't see his shoes. His skin was olive-colored and had curly, medium-length brown hair. He exuded an air of quiet confidence.

Boy No. 2 had pale skin with a trace of freckles. His primary characteristic seemed to be looking around nervously. He was dressed in a similar manner to his companion, but his pull-over was a light green color. His hair was a sort of pale orange.

They didn't appear to be related, at least directly.

"Oh, great," I thought. "They're gonna hit me up for money." And then the air changed.

I've explained this before, but for the benefit of any new lurkers out there, right before I experience something strange, there's a change in perception that comes about which I describe in the above manner. It's basically enough time to know it's too late.

So, there I was, filling out a check in my car (which was still running) and in a sudden panic over the appearance of two little boys. I was confused, but an overwhelming sense of fear and unearthliness rushed in nonetheless.

The spokesman smiled, and the sight for some inexplicable reason chilled my blood. I could feel fight-or-flight responses kicking in. Something, I knew instinctually, was not right, but I didn't know what it could possibly be.

I rolled down the window very, very slightly and asked "Yes?"

The spokesman smiled again, broader this time. His teeth were very, very white.

"Hey, mister, what's up? We have a problem," he said. His voice was that of a young man, but his diction, quiet calm and ... something I still couldn't put my finger on ... made my desire to flee even greater. "You see, my friend and I want to see the films, but we forgot our money," he continued. "We need to go to our house to get it. Want to help us out?"

Okay. Journalists are required to talk to lots of people, and that includes children. I've seen and spoken to lots of them. Here's how that usually goes:

"Uh ... M ... M ... Mister? Can I see that camera? I ... I won't break it or anything. I promise. My dad has a camera, and he lets me hold it sometimes, I guess, and I took a picture of my dog -- it wasn's very good, 'cause I got my finger in the way and ..."

Add in some feet shuffling and/or body swaying and you've got a typical kid talking to a stranger.

In short, they're usually apologetic. People generally teach children that when they talk to adults, they're usually bothering them for one reason or another and they should at least be polite.

This kid was in no way fitting the mold. His command of language was incredible and he showed no signs of fear. He spoke as if my help was a foregone conclusion. When he grinned, it was as if he was trying to say, "I know something ... and you're NOT gonna like it. But the only way you're going to find out what it is will be to do what I say ..."

"Uh, well ..." was the best reply I could offer.

Now here's where it starts to get strange.

The quiet companion looked at the spokesman with a mixture of confusion and guilt on his face. He seemed in some ways shocked, not with his friend's brusque manner but that I didn't just immediately open the door.

He eyed me nervously.

The spokesman seemed a bit perturbed, too. I still was registering something wrong with both.

"C'mon, mister," the spokesman said again, smooth as silk. Car salesmen could learn something from this kid. "Now, we just want to go to our house. And we're just two little boys."

That really scared me. Something in the tone and diction again sent off alarm bells. My mind was frantically trying to process what it was perceiving about the two figures that was "wrong."

"Eh. Um ...." was all I could manage. I felt myself digging my fingernails into the steering wheel.

"What movie were you going to see?" I asked finally.

"Mortal Kombat, of course," the spokesman said. The silent one nodded in affirmation, standing a few paces behind.

"Oh," I said. I stole a quick glance at the marquee and at the clock in my car. Mortal Kombat had been playing for an hour, the last showing of the evening.

The silent one looked increasingly nervous. I think he saw my glances and suspected that I might be detecting something was not above-board.

"C'mon, mister. Let us in. We can't get in your car until you do, you know," the spokesman said soothingly. "Just let us in, and we'll be gone before you know it. We'll go to our mother's house."

We locked eyes.

To my horror, I realized my hand had strayed toward the door lock (which was engaged) and was in the process of opening it. I pulled it away, probably a bit too violently. But it did force me to look away from the children.

I turned back. "Er ... Um ...," I offered weakly and then my mind snapped into sharp focus.

For the first time, I noticed their eyes.

They were coal black. No pupil. No iris. Just two staring orbs reflecting the red and white light of the marquee.

At that point, I know my expression betrayed me. The silent one had a look of horror on his face in a combination that seemed to indicate: A) The impossible had just happened and "We've been found out!"

The spokesman, on the other hand, wore a mask of anger. His eyes glittered brightly in the half-light.

"Cmon, mister," he said. "We won't hurt you. You have to LET US IN. We don't have a gun ..."

That last statement scared the living hell out of me, because at that point by his tone he was plainly saying, "We don't NEED a gun."

He noticed my hand shooting down toward the gear shift. The spokesman's final words contained an anger that was complete and whole, and yet contained in some respects a tone of panic:

"WE CAN'T COME IN UNLESS YOU TELL US IT'S OKAY. LET ... US .... IN!"

I ripped the car into reverse (thank goodness no one was coming up behind me) and tore out of the parking lot. I noticed the boys in my peripheral vision, and I stole a quick glance back.

They were gone. The sidewalk by the theater was deserted.

I drove home in a heightened state of panic. Had anyone attempted to stop me, I would have run on through and faced the consequences later.

I bolted into my house, scanning all around -- including the sky.

What did I see? Maybe nothing more than some kids looking for a ride.

And some really funky contacts. Yeah, right.

A friend suggested they were vampires, what with the old "let us in" bit and my compelled response to open the door. That and the "we'll go see our mother" thing.

I'm still not sure what they were, but here's an epilogue I find chilling:

I talk about Chad a lot. He's still my best friend, my best ghost-hunting companion and an all-around cool guy. He recently moved to Amarillo, but at the time this happened was still living in San Angelo of Ram Page fame.

I called him and talked to him briefly. He had two female friends with him at the time, both professing some type of psychic ability.

I started telling him the story, leaving out the part about the black eyes for the kicker. One of the women (we were on a speakerphone) stopped me.

"These children had black eyes, right?" she asked. "I mean, all-black eyes?"

"Er ... Yes." I said. I was a bit taken aback.

"Hmmm," she said. "One night last week, I had a dream about children with black eyes. They were outside my house, wanting to be let in, but there was something wrong with them. It took me a while to realize it was the eyes."

I hadn't even gotten as far as them wanting to come in.

"What did you do?" I asked.

"I kept the doors and windows locked," she said. "I knew if they came in, they would kill me."

She paused.

"And they would have killed you, too, if you had let them into your car."

wheres the trim shots?

love it. the shoes and the hoodie especially

lol. thats why i never wear this hat

shit, so the HP pavilion had a faulty battery/powersupply, and tech support hindus gave me the typical runaround trying to fix it.... so i exchanged it for a sony vaio for $400 more

no regrets. thanks for nothing hp

Jesus. Shut up. Everytime to post, nonsense just comes out of your mouth.

lawl, typical jap ways. i suppose nanking was created in a movie studio, too, right?

It seems to me like you have a lot of problems with me. If you don't like my registration date, my lack of an av, and my post count I would suggest you keep it to yourself because I really don't give a mother fucking rats ass. Got it? I have a problem with someone such as yourself with over fourty fucking thousand posts, an admitted sufu addict, and aren't you one of those faggots who has had marijuana in his avatar? You don't see me making posts about my problems with you so I would suggest you give me the same respect. Thanks.

you really don't know what the fuck your talking about.

You think this is a joke?

If you want to talk like that to me why dont you come here and say it to my face so that I can answer your insults with a swift fist to your nose. Yea you have a lot to say from 432 miles away from me but I bet if my fists were in reach of your face you would be like a tv stuck on mute with no volume button. So do yourself a favor and keep your mouth shut unless you want to die.

Next time you think about saying something like that to me I want you to remember one thing

I know the guy that created google maps and I can locate you in the time it took me to type all of this up. Dont want anymore problems? I didnt think so......

its funny how your sweet, beloved, cute&cuddly japan is in reality nothing more than a literal thug-state like North Korea. what a great nation, to be economically and politically run by a bunch of oganized criminals, ones who set up crack labs all over asia , constantly violate UN Human Rights laws with constant illicit human trafficking for the uses of prostitution. and yet the government and police do nothing but turn the other cheek, willingly allowing this to happen, while in the meantime pump so much rainbow colored shoes and anime up your asses that yall are just oblivious to this. its funny as how all this is going on they constantly divert their atrocities away from themselves and point their finger at North Korea saying that theyre the "bad guy", then calling the chinese liars. japan is nothing more than a giant criminal element, and frankly i cant wait till the great kim jong il gives em their just desserts and nukes those cock suckers to waste.

so i guess my question is, are you prepared?

Once trying to dress like a Japanese person trying to dress like an American from becomes mainstream in America, will Japanese people then dress like Americans, trying to dress like Japanese, trying to dress like Americans?

its already happening.

who on this board, hates the "japs?"

i meant in real life.

obviously im not talking about people on this board since 97% of ppl here are japanophiles....

why does everyone hate the japs yet continue to sackride their shit?

the japanese men's hair catalogs

kinokuniya bookstore nyc

It's always been a fantasy of mine to be a sex slave for 2 bears, male and female, pleasing the male when she's tired, and vice versa.

Slowly sliding my lips up and down his thick shaft, tasting his pre-cum on my toungue. Once he's had enough of that, he rolls over onto his back, lifting me up as though I weighed nothing. Gently placing me on his cock, I guide him in, feeling him stretch me wide open.

I moan with pleasure, feeling him fill me up. He growls softly, I feel it rumble deep in his chest, vibrating all the way down his body and through mine. He continues to lift me up and then pull me down. He's doing all the work for me, it feels so good, the warmth of the fur, his paws either side of my waist. He is in total control, I'm just nothing comapared to his vast size and strength, but I have total trust in him, I know he won't hurt me.

I feel the pace quicken, almost imperceptibly. I slowly stroke myself, feeling myself nearing the point of no return coming closer with every stroke.

I can hear the growl getting louder now, he speeds up even more, forcing me further and further down onto his thick cock. If it wasn't for the fact I my body is reasing so many endorphines, I would probably be screaming in agony. Except I am panting and whining, just like a bitch, begging her mate to fill her up.

His claws dig in deeper, the pain, it's excsquisite. It sends me over the edge. My head goes back, I let out a short grunt, I feel my cock explode, covering his chest fur in my seed. I keep stroking, it looks as though I'm trying to rip my cock out. I let out another grunt, another torrent flows forth, then another and another. A drop lands on the beasts muzzle.

He seems confused for a moment. That's what I think. He digs his paws in even harder now and slams me onto his cock, I feel his grumble turn into a roar. He's cumming, oh my god. I can feel in, filling me up. It's undescribable. He's mating with me, he's claimed me.

I feel him slow, his cock still throbbing within me, it seems as though there's no more room for his cum. It's dripping out of me, onto his fur. I reach down, then bring my hand up, tasting him. It's more than I ever expected. It's heaven.

there are sweatshops in the us.

unpossible

ok. if thats how you want it to be, your choice. do you honestly think i cant bribe minya for your ip adress? everyone has a price. im on 2 grams of test a week and a gram of tren. do this a couple months back, ok, i mightve let it slide, now, someone so much as looks at me the wrong way an theres gonna be probs, lucky for me they always back the fuck down so i dont gotta get my hands dirty. i know youll try the same when shit hits the fan but dont think ill be so linient, cause i wont.

dont say i didnt warn you.

you gonna bark all day, little doggy

or are you gonna bite

K for your information, asshole, I have seen a lion. And not one of your crap ass queen of the jungle homoerotic pussy-cat lions. A real lion, with fangs and horns and wings and shit. Don't pull your fucking wierd ass african voodoo hypnosis crap on me when you don't even know wtf you're talking about.

unless you are referring to choki choki, those catalogs / books

aren't fashion magazines, per se.

i know.

but a good hairstyle is always a plus.

Is it just me, or is that whole rant there just seething with latent homosexuality?

When I was about 15 years old I was very sexually curious so I went into my parents bathroom and started playing with my moms tampons. Being a guy and not having a vagina I stuck one up my butt. After a little pain I was able to get it out, but unfortunantly it had a little poo on it. I didnt want to get caught playing with tampons so I cleaned it up a much as possible and put it back in the applicator. A few weeks later my mom went to the doctor and when i asked what for she paused nervously and said "for feminine reasons" I felt really bad cuz i think she used the poo tampon I put back.

so i have a pretty big walk in shower and i usually sit down naked and let the water hit me. i know it def has enough room for 2 people. so im sitting down taking a shower and this big ma fucker almost goes on my thigh. im sorry but my dick is exposed and i do not want any spider on it, or biting it or whatever. god that was sooo nasty

darude - sandstorm

p diddy - stairway to harlem

Is 20 pound for the weight like 30 pounds if a guy lifts?

No gym for home, work out floor with 30, but is it for 20 like 30 lb when you no lift it to be for men, for 30 lbs instead? or half is 10 for 20 pounds? Thanks.

I have a morning ritual that I need to share. I call it 'the terminator'. First I crouch down in the shower in the classic 'naked terminator traveling through time' pose. With my eyes closed I crouch there for a minute, visualizing either Arnold or the guy from the second movie (not the chick in the third one because that one sucked) and I start to hum the terminator theme. Then I slowly rise to a standing position and open my eyes. It helps me to proceed through my day as an emotionless, cyborg badass. The only problem is if the shower curtain sticks to my terminator leg. It ruins the fantasy.

nigga

(is this long enough, motherfucker?)

leahs not even half jap, stop frontin bitch.