ShneekeyTheLost wrote:Just like the phrase 'When should I knock you up, mum?" simply is inquiring when the wake-up call should be over in the UK. Over in America, however, to knock someone up is to get them pregnant.
FreeFlier wrote:And a british rubber is an american eraser . . . very embarrassing mistake for a lady to make in a business meeting.
DinkyInky wrote:I have also heard rubber used as an English term for a card game.
I believe it's a hand or trick in a card game . . . a specific portion of the game, not the entire game.
I can almost see the faintly amused look on Al's face upon discovering his mannerisms have sparked a conversation on Randy people, rubbers, and knocking people up.
My, what an interesting turn this conversation has taken.
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
Just Old Al wrote:I leave for five lousy minutes and you all wander off the edge of the earth....sigh.
ajr
To be fair, it's been something like nine hours since your last post. A lot can happen in nine hours... Especially with this lot.
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
Just Old Al wrote:I leave for five lousy minutes and you all wander off the edge of the earth....sigh.
ajr
To be fair, it's been something like nine hours since your last post. A lot can happen in nine hours... Especially with this lot.
SOmeone please look up the word hyperbole...
Ahm jus' sayin'...
He's mister GlytchMeister, he's mister code
He's mister exploiter, he's mister ones and zeros
They call me GlytchMeister, whatever I touch
Starts to glitch in my clutch!
I'm too much!
ShneekeyTheLost wrote:Just like the phrase 'When should I knock you up, mum?" simply is inquiring when the wake-up call should be over in the UK. Over in America, however, to knock someone up is to get them pregnant.
FreeFlier wrote:And a british rubber is an american eraser . . . very embarrassing mistake for a lady to make in a business meeting.
DinkyInky wrote:I have also heard rubber used as an English term for a card game.
I believe it's a hand or trick in a card game . . . a specific portion of the game, not the entire game.
--FreeFlier
Sherlock Holmes wrote:"I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket, and I thought that, as we were a partie carree, you might have your rubber after all. But I see that the enemy's preparations have gone so far that we cannot risk the presence of a light.
Yanno how some people have Angels/Devils for a conscience? I have a Dark Elf ShadowKnight and a Half Elf Ranger for mine. The really bad part is when they agree on something.
Just Old Al wrote:I leave for five lousy minutes and you all wander off the edge of the earth....sigh.
ajr
Are you familiar with the phrase "herding cats"?
Mew?
Yanno how some people have Angels/Devils for a conscience? I have a Dark Elf ShadowKnight and a Half Elf Ranger for mine. The really bad part is when they agree on something.
FreeFlier wrote:Ah so . . . a convenience-of-the-government discharge.
For those that don't know, you cannot be promoted from enlisted to officer (at least in the US military) . . . so if that becomes desirable, the person is given a discharge for (or at) "the convenience of the government", then commissioned. So they didn't commission an enlisted person, they commissioned a civilian.
--FreeFlier
That is interesting. I was never aware of that, before. How does that affect length of employment, as far as retirement pension calculations go? Do they calculate from the time the officer was first enlisted, or the time he became a commissioned officer? (Depending on the individual, it might make a big difference... Though knowing nothing on the subject, I don't even know if my statement is even remotely true...)
Another question: why would it matter? Why would it be important to commission a civilian, rather than an enlisted person?
"I can almost remember their funny faces
That time you told him that you gonna be marrying soon
And Jet I thought the only lonely place was on the moon…"
Ari swung the Mustang on to MN-65 freeway ramp. Downtown Minneapolis shone before her on an early September afternoon.
Traffic was quiet for a Saturday afternoon in the Twin Cities; U of M wasn't at home that weekend; the Twins didn't play until Monday night, and the Vikings had wrapped up their preseason the previous night.
As she swung the car onto 3rd Avenue South toward the convention center, she wished she could be attending any of those other options.
She'd had that dream again. Flying around the Twin Cities. Landing outside the door to the Abbott Apartments. Opening the door… and falling. This time, though, she wasn't alone in the dream. This time, Drey and Mori were there with her.
"Was your father as bold as the Sergeant Major,
How come he told you that you were hardly old enough yet,
And Jet I thought the Major was a lady suffragette…"
That lyric by Ari made her smile briefly, but the sound of a honking horn from behind brought her back to reality. She eased the Mustang across the intersection, taking the bridge across I-94 and into the Stevens Square area of Uptown Minneapolis.
The dream had troubled her at first. They were screeching all sorts of obscenities and curses at her – Why did you do this to us? Why did you let this happen? THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT…
She'd called them up earlier in the year to let them know about her new job – that she'd been "re-hired" by Richer Engineering. Drey had been in a foul mood, because she'd been "reassigned" to a different Starbucks store – one all the way out in Wayzata, of all things. Mori wasn't much better; she had been turned down for a promotion to manager at the Super Target in Richfield. According to her, there were rumblings about layoffs because the parent company was "re-thinking their strategy about competing against large-scale discount box stores" – or so they told her.
Her thoughts distracted her enough that she didn't realize she had passed East 18th Street. She shrugged. It was easier getting over there going down to Franklin, anyways.
They hadn't gotten back to her much in the ensuing weeks – and months. She'd tried to invite them to the Memorial Day picnic; both had to work. Same for the Fourth of July picnic. She'd even tried to get them to come out for AHI Day at Target Field at the end of July – figuring that Mori might be able to get off.
Mori had been let go the previous week. She had two job interviews that day, and she didn't have time for something "foolish as a baseball game."
Spending more time on the brake instead of the gas, the 5.0 was like a harnessed tiger as she crept down Franklin. She smiled briefly as she saw the exterior for Mucho Mocha – maybe after she talked to the two, she could stop in for a coffee.
The dream had been the same, repeatedly: the two others screaming as they all fell, but recently, one thing had changed: she saw the other two collide into the ground – not in a pile of limp, dead bodies, but like they had disintegrated on impact. Meanwhile, she braced for impact with the ground…
…And every single time, she woke up.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
Just Old Al wrote:I leave for five lousy minutes and you all wander off the edge of the earth....sigh.
ajr
Are you familiar with the phrase "herding cats"?
Or perhaps butterflies would be a more accurate parallel.
jwhouk wrote:I leave for 16 and this is what I come back to...
I've seen worse . . .
I'd post the "Who wants pie?" emoticon we have on another board if I could figure out how to do it.
--FreeFlier
Get the image on your screen. Right-click on it and copy the location of the image (Firefox calls it "Copy Image Location"). Paste that location between a set of img tags (while you're writing a message there's a button up there to generate the tags, or you can just type 'em).
---
She turned onto 18th after going around the block. Fortunately, there was an open spot in front of the main entrance. When she lived there, she rarely saw an open spot on the street – either on 18th or Stevens. Some nights, if it wouldn't have been for the assigned spots, she would have had to park the old Toyota somewhere near the old Metrodome.
Clicking the power lock for the GT, she walked up to the main entry doors. She admitted to herself a sense of dread about finally doing this, but her hand had been forced a few weeks ago.
She clenched the envelope in her hands, and pressed the button for the unit number. She heard a click – nothing over the intercom, which was a little unusual – and the entry door was opened.
The place still looked like it had the day they'd moved in. If you looked hard enough, you could guess that the place had been a hospital at one time. The stairwell up to the apartment was the same – not ostentatious, but classic. She reached the third floor, opened the door – and was immediately greeted by her two sisters, standing outside the door to the apartment.
"You got the envelope, I see," Mori motioned at what she had in her hand.
"How much back rent do you two owe, anyways?" Ari lifted the letter – a summons to Hennepin County Small Claims Court on behalf of Palanisami Holdings. "This thing wasn't exactly clear."
"Enough," Drey replied. "We're going to have to be out by the 1st of October. We can't afford this place anymore."
"Why didn't you two call me and ask for some help?" Ari was getting angry. "You KNEW I could help with the rent. You KNEW I had a decent job…"
"No, Ari, we didn't," Mori replied angrily. "Any time we tried to call, we either got your voice mail – or we got that weird guy with the accent." Ari closed her eyes for a moment. Al had told her about that little exchange.
"Look, my boss had no idea who you were…"
"Neither do YOU, Ari." Drey was angry. "We have both been out there, working CONSTANTLY at horrid, HORRID jobs… You probably didn't know that Mori had to take a job with Metro Transit, just so we could have food on the table?"
"Metro… Driving the bus?"
"Worse – the Hiawatha Light Rail," Mori explained. "I saw you maybe once or twice, then you stopped taking the train. It was like you'd disappeared."
"I got a car… Did you want to come down and see it?" she offered. Both girls shook their heads.
"We just want out of here. This place has been a nightmare since we set foot in it." Drey stopped for a moment – something she apparently remembered – then continued. "Give this damn apartment to some other hipster couple. We've got a bead on a place over by the U. I'm the one using the car most of the time now… though it's making this grinding noise every so often."
"And what about this?" Ari held the envelope up.
"We don't have the money to pay. You wanna take care of it, fine; we're done with this place."
"Well, I godsdamned guess I'll HAVE to, since my name's still ON THE LEASE!" Ari was getting infuriated. "Fine. Al has some legal connections. I can pay this off, maybe get the rest out of your two skinny hides…"
She looked at the two of them. "I thought we were family. I guess we aren't."
The two of them looked at her, then at each other. They both then slowly turned and walked back into the apartment.
"See you," was the last thing that Drey said to her as they shut the door behind them.
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
---
Tina was slightly taken aback when she saw her wander through the doors of her shop.
"Oh, hi, Miss Majordomo," she greeted Ari with the nickname she'd placed on her. "Is… everything okay?" Tina saw the streaks of tears down the girl's face – and her aura was confirming that nothing was okay.
"I… I just need some cheering up, Tina," she said with a sniffle. "I… had to do something very, very difficult this afternoon."
"Hm. I think I can whip something up for that," she replied, ducking back behind the espresso machine. She peeked back out, even as Ari was trying her best to blot dry her tears. "Family issues, I take it?"
Ari nodded. "Damn sisters didn't pay the rent on their place up on 18th."
"Oh, yeah, I think I remember that – they were up at the Abbott Apartments, right?" Ari nodded in response. "Well, I can only guess at the reasons, but I think there's two things that could help. One is this," she said, handing her a double mocha latte with two shots of espresso – and a mound of whipped cream on top. "The other is sitting right over there in the corner."
Ari looked over to where Tina was pointing. There, in the corner, was Greg Howard and his wife, Annie.
"Thanks, Tina," Ari said, who started to fish out her wallet. Tina waved her off.
"On the house," she said. "Go and talk to them. I think they'd be more than willing to listen."
"Character is what you are in the dark." - D.L. Moody
"You should never run from the voices in your head. That's how you give them power." - Jin
Annie gave Greg a concerned look as Ari walked in their direction- Greg returned it as he stood to pull an extra chair to their table.
"Here, have a sit- what ails you, Ari? I don't believe I have EVER seen you cry,"
"Well.. it happens... oh, I just don't know where to start... my sisters... augh! ... it hurts me to say the word..."
Annie put a hand on her shoulder, "Take a moment... breath... clear ... calm yourself down a bit, otherwise you'll sink that much deeper. If you need a good cry, we don't need details- you're in safe company,"
That was all it took- she bawled shamelessly while Greg and Annie both put a hand on either of her shoulders. Greg immediately went into silent prayer- Annie snaked her free hand into his and joined. In about five minutes, she relented... the fever broke, as it were. A good cry can often clear the mind somewhat, especially in good company. Finally, she spoke,
"My.. two sisters...(sniff)... haven't faired as well as I have... and...(sniff)... and... they are behind in their rent by three months...(she took a tissue from her clutch purse and blew her nose)... sorry... I've covered it for them... but ... it's like they see my success as the reason for their failures... and.... (sniff)... and, well, they're the only family I have... (sniff)... and... and I really... (sniff)... don't know what to do...(sniff)"
"Don't you have any other family?" asked Annie.
"No... not that I...(sniff)... know of,"
Greg suddenly remembered- Annie knew nothing about this woman. He went to tap her foot, but too late-
"Well, where did you grow up?" Annie asked.
The blank stare on Aria's face as she pondered that question told Greg that they had just trespassed into dangerous territory. Ari had no idea where she grew up. She had never pondered that before. Here limited contact with anybody who would be a CLOSE friend had precluded any thoughts about her childhood... and because the fact that she HAD no such memories was NOT included in the spell that turned her human, the thought could not erase!
"I... I have no clue," she finally stated, totally amazed at the fact.
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
The lack of memories . . . careless work on someone's part. Always provide a cover story, even if it's only for why she has no memories . . .
Just Old Al wrote:I leave for five lousy minutes and you all wander off the edge of the earth....sigh.
Sgt. Howard wrote:Are you familiar with the phrase "herding cats"?
Warrl wrote:Or perhaps butterflies would be a more accurate parallel.
Catterflies?
. . .
/shrug/ Better than spigeons, I suppose . . . No, definitely better than spigeons.
jwhouk wrote:I leave for 16 and this is what I come back to...
FreeFlier wrote:I've seen worse . . .
I'd post the "Who wants pie?" emoticon we have on another board if I could figure out how to do it.
Get the image on your screen. Right-click on it and copy the location of the image (Firefox calls it "Copy Image Location"). Paste that location between a set of img tags (while you're writing a message there's a button up there to generate the tags, or you can just type 'em).
Now which emoticon did you want? This one
<driftpie image>
or this one?
Driftpie 'splodie image>
Yep, those are the ones . . . I don't think we're into the limits exceeded one yet, though.
Now I'm going to have to use the wolf emoticons too . . . She likes her emoticons.
Slowly, images unbidden came to Ari's mind- images of winged creatures that could kill without thought or remorse. Images of a younger man than the one before her... but of the same blood... his son?... humiliating her in front of many... of her kind?... something inside her head was unraveling, and in the process it was leaking bits and pieces of images... a drunken woman with a shotgun being hypnotized by a busty teenage girl... and old man playing guitar... an iron chain in a sack.... A WEDDING!!! A WEDDING WHERE SHE WOULD KILL THE BRIDE!!! SHE WANTED THE BRIDE DEAD!!! - no, she HAD wanted the bride dead! But that was... that was not who she is... not now...
Tina had grabbed the last patron and given the poor soul the 'bum's rush' out of the establishment, explaining that "...thisyoungladyhasepisodesofviolenceandyoudon'twanttobeherebutdon'tworrytheOldSgt.canhandleit-BYE!"
Ari stared at Greg... and Greg, terrified by what he was seeing, motioned for Annie to back away. Ari's world had just dissolved before her eyes. She had been living a lie.
"Ari?" Greg asked, cautiously. Over by the counter, Tina was speed-dialing her phone
"Arania... my name is Arania," she spoke as if in a trance, "or it was... but I am not her now, not any more...am I? Am I somebody else now? I want to be somebody else, I don't want to be ... her... she frightens me... but that is not who I am... is it?... tell me I don't have to be her anymore, please... I don't want to be her, I don't want to be what I was, who I was... I am liking what I am now... "
A soft 'Poit' announced the arrival of the Librarian-" ... well then, there's the question- what are you now?" Phix asked.
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
A lot can happen in nine hours... Especially with this lot.
Always provide a cover story, even if it's only for why she has no memories . . .