Discussion in 'Odds & Ends' started by J011yroger, Mar 31, 2013.
Oh man you have to see how ridiculous this shirt looks with my skinny corduroys and yellow sneakers
Time for a shameless selfie?
There is always time for shameless self-promotion.
Battle gear has sustained critical damage.
Good, now you have to throw them out for the good of mankind.
Once more unto the hot tarmac we strode, our packs newly burdened by supplies. Guided by shady directions, and maps from google mainframe we made haste for the nearest tennis courts.
I kept my optical receptors scanning for a coffee dispensary as we marched to no avail. We crossed a major lightpath, and with a single statement Pickle3PO vindicated his entire existence. "Look! 7-11!" He proclaimed.
My heart lurched into my throat, and I could hear the songs of angels as I saw the green and red sign that signified my salvation.
With no explanation needed, I broke into a trot leaving my companions to find their own way to the courts.
I'm smitten. She is as dumb as toast, but I would kill for her.
Most enjoyable stuff J011y. Pickle3PO.
By the way, I've been meaning to ask, who is the Immortal? Is it Dennis, or somebody else? Why is whoever is the Immortal called the Immortal? Should I be asking such questions, or just shut up and read the thread?
The Immortal is the greatest 4.5 of all time.
An Epic Immortal Tennis God. (EITG)
Yea, Tom and I need to know WHO "The Immortal" is...
The Immortal is the guy who you served to you and played the points out, the brown gentleman walking next to me in the picture, and the guy who is neither me, Dennis, nor Pickle.
Joel dubbed him 'The Immortal' after facing him in battle years ago.
Oh OK. Thanks. Yes, he's a really good player, and a very nice person. It was fun to try to play a few points with him but really I was still way too weak when you guys were here. He was very nice about it though, and even though I was somewhat embarrassed by not being able to play very well, he dialed his game down enough to make it fun.
By the way, I have a bunch of tennis video snippets from your exploration of Hardy Park. Do you (or Dennis or Pickle or The Immortal) want copies of them? I can make them into .wmv files reducing their size and email them.
And I won't sidetrack the thread any more, so that you can get back to your chronicle.
I am The Immortal Sex God
My tennis is a joke. I'm a falling 4.5. Won't be rising anytime soon.
Nah, we were just goofing around mostly, I don't really have any desire to see the videos. It was great to meet up with you, and hope to hit again when we return.
I'm haunted by visions of her. She made Anna Ivonovic look like she fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.
Fap Fap Fap.
I made haste, guided by the magnificent seven upon the sign, my spirits bouyed by my impending caffination. Disappointed that 24oz was as large as the hot liquid receptacles came, I grabbed the red cup, and filled it with the steaming black liquid I so craved. The heavenly aroma swirled into my nostrils as the piping hot cup burned my fingers.
I circled the counter thrice in search of dairy products with which I could imbue my drink, but my search was to no avail. After an uncomfortable period of time I discovered that the products I sought were not dispensed in standard cartons, but instead from a massive machine.
In short order I discovered how to operate the device, and my beverage was a satisfactory shade of tan. Sealing it with a travel lid, I made my way to the pay station.
At the pay station I stood sipping my wondrous drink, my mood improving immediately. There was a man on the queue in front of me, but I was patient, casually observing. I noticed that death sticks here sold for nearly half the price of those in my home system, and I understood the allure of the smuggler's lifestyle.
I made certain to greet the man at the pay station with the traditional greeting of my people "hayadoin?", and then paid for my drink before heading to rendezvous with the rest of my squadron.
Once out into the daylight again, I pulled up the map on my com device, and thought that I could shave time off of my trip by following the hypotenuse and cutting through a community of mobile homes.
Being the beneficiary of deft maneuvering, and spreading around a few hayadoins, I soon found myself on the road leading to the courts where we hoped to knock the rust off of our battle techniques.
I took a gulp from my joyous red cup, and leisurely strode in the direction of the park.
I spied my two companions, and adjusted my heading in order to reconvene with them. I took in the warning signs posted above the entryway, banning the use of death sticks, and forbidding an odd local game.
Pickle3PO was amused by my sudden aura of positivity spurred by my morning drink, while The Immortal was concentrating on equipping his ankle supports, and Barricade class combat boots, a much heavier and sturdier equipment choice as compared to the Vapor class boots which P3PO and I had equipped for this mission.
P3PO informed me that all three battle grounds at this location were occupied, and that the locals had decreed that they would be so until at least the noon hour. My hand unconsciously drifted to the handle of my lightsaber, violence being the obvious solution in my mind.
The locals were nearly all wiley veterans of many missions, but none seemed capable of undertaking a high priority mission; The Immortal or I could slaughter them all with ease. I thought that we should challenge them to a contest of arms, giving them a ludicrous advantage so as to insult their pride into thinking they couldn't possibly lose. I looked to The Immortal and said "We will challenge the best team they can muster, two champions pulled forth from the ranks of the fifteen or so of them, and play a set of doubles. We will give them a four game head start, and begin every game with them leading 30-0. If their champions are vanquished by us, they will cede control of the battleground."
My plan was vetoed by the others, as P3PO had located other courts within our proximity. So after eating a plum to bolster my blood sugar level, we marched off, leaving the veterans to their own devices.
You guys look a bit, uh, schnockered there. Or was it just a tough day at the tennis courts?
Apparently the courts which P3P0 had located on the Google starchart were located within a private housing development; the others were ready to abort the mission, but I would not be daunted. "Iv'e been thrown out of nicer places than this, let's go." I boldly proclaimed.
We penetrated the defenses of the community, passing both a swimming pool, and some large, hostile local birds.
We reached the courts without incident, but they were ancient relics, unfit to be graced my feet such as mine.
The time had come for a strategic withdrawal, or in common parlance, retreat.
We hadn't been drinking. I was out in the sun, and Pickle bore the shame of defeat after choking away two match points in the third set tiebreaker of his tournament match against the #1 seed.
Nowadays knights don't fancy consistency and follow-through, it seems...
You could've poured me a nice glass of vin rouge and asked me to tell more of our tale instead of besmirching my honor!
consistency is overrated. modern way is to mix things up, be more spontaneous, no?
don't worry about follow through, still make firm contact...
Did you mention when Dennis and I were on the flight down sitting next to the smelly hipster, that Dennis almost killed, that when it went to use the restroom Dennis leaned over to me and said and I quote "If you grow up to be like that I will strangle you."
007Dennis, license to kill by any means necessary.
Speaking of a license to kill:
I'm relying on this!
Btw, I guess consistency and spontaneity/mixing things up is hardly an oxymoron, is it - consistent spontaneity and/or consistent all around game are still possible, no!?
Oh là là.....
There I was thinking that throwing down a gantlet would be more respectful toward the virility of a Knight's honour than buying him a drink.... little did I know, tsk tsk tsk... mea culpa!
Here is the whole bottle of an excellent vin rouge, brave Knight: yours to discover and enjoy!
Now, can we have the next bit of the tale, pretty please?????
Tes désirs sont des ordres.
Your wish is my command? BHBH
I have been preoccupied with scientific endeavors the past few days, but I shall return to our tale shortly.
Epic! Story to come soon!
Yea, that's the way it should be!
Too much time on my hands - I know, I know...
When are we getting a new chapter?
*bumping in a very casual and nonchalent manner, just for the sake of it.... *
J011y's deserted us.
Without Jolly's input to this thread the tennis universe may collapse. Pickle you and Dali gonna have to sub 'til he gets back from sabbatical. The weight of the forum is upon you... :shock:
Things were looking bleak, and our squad was considering retreat when Pickle3P0's com device sounded an alert. Denni-Wan was awake, and at an unfathomable hour (before 1:30pm).
P3P0 transmitted rendezvous point coordinates to Denni-Wan, and the race was on to reach the way-point in time. We were trapped, fenced in, deep within the private community.
I was confident in my fence summiting ability having freshly completed the Tough Mudder campaign, but the others were dubious of their abilities fearing that their clothes might be sullied, and their lack of upper body strength might be exposed.
We agreed to make haste back the way we came, breaking into a trot in order to arrive on time, we reached the street, and scoured the lightpath for the White Wagon of Doom.
With the three of us at the waypoint, and no sight of Dennis and the ship, Pickle contacted him via encrypted vox line, and requested his coordinates. "Where the **** are you dude?"
Pickle guided him via voice into the parking lot next to us, and after hurtling a grass median, the three of us boarded the ship.
We stormed down the boulevard in search of breakfast while Dennis lamented the rental transport. "The air conditioning doesn't blow very cold in this thing." he remarked with moderate disappointment.
"That is because it isn't turned on." I remarked displaying my detailed knowledge of climate control systems, and pressing the button adorned with a snowflake to activate the cooling system.
"Oh..." Dennis remarked unimpressed as we continued on our journey.
More!! More!!! More!!!! BHBH
Morning basalt in Newport.
When Jolly walked through the doors of the ITHOF the curator said 'hello, we have been waiting for you.'
Separate names with a comma.