"Temporary" Venting Thread

[BeardofPants]

It's a hair straightener, moron.
It's a ceramic iron that you heat up, and it tames down those kinky annoying flyaway hair bits, I couldn't live without mine.

[trolls' bane]

Originally Posted by BeardofPants

It's a hair straightener, moron.
It's a ceramic iron that you heat up, and it tames down those kinky annoying flyaway hair bits, I couldn't live without mine.

But, does it work for short hair? I have real short hair...
What's a hair straightener? Is it like a welder or something? (don't ask)

[BeardofPants]

They're kinda like tongs? And they have ceramic or metal hot-plates on the end. You plug it in, wait for the metal/ceramic to heat up, and then you run it through your hair. As for hair length, it depends on how short. The ghd straightener comes in a really small size, so would probably be okay on quite short hair, as long as it wasn't buzz cut short. Hmm, I have a picture up around here somewhere with super-straight hair ...
*goes off to look at the picture thread
Ah! here it is GHD hair
Anyhoo.... that's way more info than you prolly wanted.

[Rev. Justin Timberlake]

Bored, and early at work, so I thought I'd post a two month old rant, complete with pics.

The Dumbness of Pigeons
By RJT

So I'm at my desk, hard at work. It's almost 8pm. The sun's dying rays filtering through the blinds, casting an aesthetically pleasing orange glow upon the walls. I look up for a moment, marvelling at the sight and subsequently, the widespread beauty to be beheld in nature and the universe--if only in thought.

I'm all alone. My co-workers have long since left the office for the comforts of their homes; their mundane lives somehow calling them away from the battlefield that is the workplace, as if family interaction and preventative malnutrition maintenance carries a higher priority than the collective goal of the grinding corporate machine...

And then I hear it.
Not again, I think.
This can't be happening. Not now. Not like this.

Let's go back in time.

It's now somewhere in October. I'm alone in my office again, the only sounds being the tapping of the keyboard, the clicking of the mouse, and the sultry, distorted groans of Dave Gahan in his Barrell of a Gun.

But over the orchestra of noise I hear something whining. It's faint, but loud enough to divert my attention from the spreadsheet I'm working on.

Where is it coming from? I wonder.

I get up and walk (stealthily) to a window. I look down, and what do I see? A pigeon. It's young, and female from what I can make out. (In truth, I am no expert in pigeon gender determination, but I base my assumption--perhaps erroneously--on the visual differences between it and it's nemesis, and on it's actions (and of course, the type of thinking behind said actions).

That's right: nemesis. For this small female pigeon is not alone on the Balcony of Ill-perceived Sanctury. There is another. Similar in size, yet with red rings encasing it's soul-less eyes, and a slightly darker plummage. I judge this specimen to be of the male variety. The “war paint” seems conveniently appropriate too.

Why?

It is hunting. It is hunting the similar-sized yet fair and non-menacing-looking female pigeon. I work this out by watching the proceedings for a short while.

What is happening? Well, remember that whining I had heard (and was hearing continuously)? It was the desperate call for help, or perhaps plea for mercy, of a traumatised winged creature on my office balcony, of course.

I watch as the male, the hunter, the relentless predator launches his repeat attacks on foot, running up to the female and pecking furiously at her innocent-looking head, after cornering her.

I watch as she cries and raises her wings in half-hearted defiance of his malice, but he is a machine, not yet mature, but well trained in the way of pigeon-attack-on-foot strategy.

This goes on for a while. He runs, she runs. He pecks at her eyes, she whines and raises her wings. Is she injured? WTF doesn't she just fly away? Damn female pigeons don't know what's good for them.

But then I begin to empathise with the female, my own emotional state projected onto the bird, through identification with it's current vicarious experience.

I lean forward and wave my arms in an attempt to intimidate the ruthless pigeon-fiend. Works for a second or two. But soldier pigeons are intelligent tools of fowl warfare. Not even opening the overlooking window with sudden ninja-like immediacy distracts the male from his goal, the violent domination of fleeing maiden poultry.

I watch from the safety of my corner office as the aggressor chases his victim around with single-minded intent. Finally, my long-dormant anger explodes in the form of an ethernet cable being violently whipped in the direction of the Battle of the Birds.

And then something happened. Something at once beautiful and confusing. The pigeons flew away! Both of them, in separate directions.

This--understandably--leaves me in a state of intellectual and emotional chaos. Uncertainty as to my own identity; questioning my place in the world; rationalizing the oft proclaimed co-existance of an omnibenevolent deity and such utterly evil fowl-play, unchecked.

But as the days wore on, I forgot about it.

Fast-forward to present day.

I spring into action. I dart towards the window, my silhoette nothing but a blur against the wonderfully orange hue of the filing cabinets.

I raise the blinds on that side of the office, and with a startling ferocity never before witnessed by Man, an adult pigeon comes crashing into the window.

OMG HOLY CAWKGOBBLINS ON WOBBLY STILTS WTF!

It is safe to say that I got a fright. I am not afraid to admit that.

The pigeon drops to the ground, but jumps straight up, it's wings fapping loudly against the glass. Behind it, looking up from the balcony are two more adult pigeons.

And then it hits me. The first bird, now sitting against the wall, looks oddly like a bigger version of the original female target. Both of the onlookers look oddly like larger versions of the original male.

OMG oh no, it's happening again!

And as true as Prison Break is engrossing, the two males continue their vicious onslaught. One by one, they run towards the female (who was whining as per normal) and peck at her head.

My comically exaggerated arm-flapping serves only to stop the attack for a few seconds while the terrible twins size me up and determine my pseudo-threat to their well-being.

Time and again, the female runs, the males corner. Around the corner they run, while I clamber around my colleague's desk to gain a better viewpoint.

Fly away you dumb ****ing pigeon!

My heart cries out to her desperate pleas, but my well-wishes have always been strangely inefficient in the defence of birds against fellow birds in these brutal bird-bird battles.

Finally, I snap. Empathy and volcanic rage combine in a pairing of epic proportions as I open my window and launch myself onto the balcony. If it hadn't been for the airconditioning unit, it would have been a clean, fluid jump. Alas, not the neatest of landings, but nobody was watching. I doubt it will leave a scar.

The attackers have cornered their victim on the opposite side of the building. I take it upon myself to rescue the fair maiden rat-with-wings, and exact terrible vengeance upon her persuers.

But it is not to be.

Once again, the birds fly off, their hasty escape routes perpendicular to eachother.

I fight back the tears while staring solemnly into the distance. Why, oh why are pigeons such dumb ****s?

After these two parallel insights into the uncharted psyche of pigeon, I am forced to conclude that pigeons are idiots. Especially the women-kind.

My understanding and thus position on the intellectual prowess of the pigeon will never be the same.

The End.

PS. This is probably the longest post written on a cell phone in the history of the universe.

*******

The next day:

This is the window against which the lady pigeon was fapping her wings.



This is where the battle went down.





This is what my shin looks like after falling off the chair while attempting to take the first pic:



My left wrist and elbow seem to have been sprained in the fall. I'm typing with one hand, since doing so with both would cause unneccesary pain. Pretty damn sore anyway.

Two and a half hours later:

WTF.

Just got back from the hospital. Turns out I fractured my arm or something. Oh well. Funniest part was when one of the nurses asked what had happened. "Damn pigeons," I answered. I was laughing a lot, to myself, in Radiology.

********

One month later:

OMG shr1nkag3.

[Rían]

Vent - My inner Grammer Nazi is having issues with the rash of its/it's and your/you're mixups on the Moot lately ... Nurv, help calm me down!!

its, yours = possessive

it's = it is
you're = you are

[Jonathan]

Rev, that pigeon sure looks evil.

[littleadanel]

That pigeon story is just... *headdesk* At last, someone who agrees with me that pigeons are DUMB and EVIL.

*remembers a pigeon getting stuck in her granny's window - err, between the two windowpanes - and what it took to take it out*

*shudders*

And one of my friends keeps calling them "cutesywootsy birdies". Insane.

Oh, and BoP... my hair is almost that straight by genetics. Funny how they make money of each and every one of us eh? selling hair straighteners and hair curlers.

I like my hair, though. Doesn't require anything but washing and drying.

[Lief Erikson]

Originally Posted by littleadanel

That pigeon story is just... *headdesk* At last, someone who agrees with me that pigeons are DUMB and EVIL.

A pidgeon pooped on me, once.

[Jonathan]

You pooped back, of course? Can't let a pigeon get away with such a thing.

[trolls' bane]

Originally Posted by Jonathan

You pooped back, of course? Can't let a pigeon get away with such a thing.

Last time a pidgeon did that to me, I ignored it. If it did that to my uncle, we'd be having dinner.

[BeardofPants]

I like to chase pigeons, that count? ::hmm::

anti-vent - just cos.

[Tamuril Sirfalas]

Originally Posted by Lotesse

I'm sorry to hear you've got this cancer demon afflicting your family, Tamuril; that is absolutley horrible. My thoughts go out to you & yours.

thankyou very much i appreciate it...damn crows

[Tamuril Sirfalas]

Originally Posted by littleadanel

Migraine people - feel better soon.

And Tamuril... *hugs*

Thoughts going out to you.

thankyou...may elbereth protect you and may her stars shine apon you...i will type it in elvish...i dunno where it is though...sounds better in elvish

[Rev. Justin Timberlake]

Congrats, woman, on scratching my car in your unsuccessful attempt at reversing out of your parking space. Silly, silly woman.

[Spock]

dang headache just hangs on, although at a lower level, that the Universe.....think I'll go sit in the cafe for a bit and rest.

[Lotesse]

Justin-heem, that pigeon story is so good! I really, really enjoyed that. I want to e-mail it to my Dad; he'll love it. He's a writer, too, and a keen critic, but I know for a fact he'll really love your writing style. That story is the bomb! Hilarious and fascinating. You're an excellent imagist.

[Rev. Justin Timberlake]

Thanks, Lotsy.

I still think the funniest and saddest part is that I took an hour to write it on my cell phone...

[Butterbeer]

heart warming really!

Did you enjoy writing it? Yeah cool and funny story - maybe she was a pigeon whore? Or a pigeon jezebel?

Maybe you inadvertantly ruined ... RUINED! their pigeon S&M session???

[trolls' bane]

Originally Posted by Butterbeer

heart warming really!

Did you enjoy writing it? Yeah cool and funny story - maybe she was a pigeon whore? Or a pigeon jezebel?

Maybe you inadvertantly ruined ... RUINED! their pigeon S&M session???

You did all that on a cell phone!? *hasn't read and is saving reading it for later on 'cause he knows it will always be there and because he is afraid of losing all of his unread posts if he tries to now*

[Rev. Justin Timberlake]

Originally Posted by trolls' bane

You did all that on a cell phone!?

Yup. I was watching a very boring movie when inspiration struck and I grabbed my phone. Hadn't planned on it being so long though.