Insert clever airhead based title here ....

Discussion in 'Airheads' started by planktonnn, Aug 25, 2009.

?

I have been to the county of Fuckshire, it was ...

  1. Nice?

    33 vote(s)
    13.7%
  2. Nasty?

    36 vote(s)
    14.9%
  3. Nasty but nice?

    173 vote(s)
    71.8%
Multiple votes are allowed.
  1. rightsideup

    rightsideup Get your motor running...

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    I am so, so sorry to hear this - my sincere condolences.
  2. planktonnn

    planktonnn .also, i am a twat

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    [​IMG]
    Most of this has little to do with Motorbikin’ & is just me spewing out my inescapable sickness so you might just want to shuffle on by…

    The rat boxer (referred to as the DMW because it is a BMW & my first initial is D) has now totally given up co-operating & I have nowhere to work on it other than a very rainy car park, which in all practical terms means I have nowhere to work on it, even putting aside the fact that I have minus budget. The electrics and induction set-up are well fucked somewhere along the line and it hates cold-starting to the point that it flattens the battery, which I have no way of charging. But it’s come to a head because having just cut out to one cylinder 5 miles out* it then fucked out completely and left me to push it the last 2 rainy miles back to the sheltered housing I call 'The Place' where I 'live'... The simple reason behind why I have nowhere to work on it is because I am a unsociable & understandably dislikeable cunt. I call myself this every time I catch a sideways glancing view of myself in the mirror. Each time I don’t find reason to disagree with myself. The tax on the bike is up at the end of March & the MOT shortly thereafter and there’s little point in renewing either on a bike that wants to quietly die so I think we can safely say that from here on in I’'m going to be living in a place called ’Dunnridin’ – Fuck it, I'’m beaten. It’s over.

    I deeply regret that the bloody thing didn't give me another massive heart attack (see last Aug) with all that pushing because I fucking really fucking have fucking had fucking enough. My chest is banging & bursting and I can only hope that the neat & tidy solution of death whilst sleeping comes to me soon. Please. Good grief please.

    I have lost my only friend with whom I had regular contact of any depth and now just sit here day after day on tranqs, sometimes looking up at a picture of him printed on the Order of Service for his funeral stuck there on the wall, which has a small clump of mud from his grave taped to it. He’s looking at me in 2D form standing happily by an Airhead but he’s not here any more. There is now nothing in the way of human contact and nothing that one could remotely call a social life, so I go nowhere because of who I am when I get there, and quite understandably no-one comes here because who in their right mind would wish to seek out contact with the blown out shit-storm that is ‘me’? I don’t blame them in any way, why would you wish to spend time with this? I don’t.

    I have no contact with my Parental Units as they are both lifelong useless & malicious cunts who persist in denial of my (5 year older) half brother sexually abusing me when I was eight, which I have previously discussed here. I do not have the fortitude or patience to work them towards any form of dialogue which is based on anything other than their self protecting resolute view that everything ever has always been entirely my fault. This of course means I have no contact with him either, but then unlike me (me, here, the total failure), he is a gregarious success graced with a triumphant career that took him to senior posts living in Turkey & Dubai and now leaves him in content & cashed up early retirement somewhere way west of here. But then he always was stupid enough to fit in with this bastard world. When I last told my Parental Units of the abuse they immediately (literally - a second) leapt into denial both of the event & me having previously mentioned it. It was, they immediately trumpeted, a delusion, then at some point later rung him to check & took him at his word. Perhaps he doesn'’t actually remember? I do.

    Sorry for being so frank.

    I have resolved that it is best that I withdraw from contact with my ex-wife & three children (16 & twins of 14) as the sum total of lamentable upset this will cause is, in my regretful estimation, less than that which would be caused by continued contact with me. I sorely know I'm not doing the right thing but it's all I can do because I just sit there being a sad sack of shit based on unshakable wretchedness, deep regret and the fact that I sorely want for a time machine & an increase in open sharing to remake what is irretrievably broken. I can offer them nothing but to parade my sickness & sadness before them. Thus I make them feel what I am told is uncomfortable & useless, which is their rightful & understandable reaction. It’s not the duty of children to be concerned with the happiness of a parent. I have failed them. I had planned for it to be all so different.

    Around '92/'93 I sat on a railway line all night full of barb pills & rum waiting for the morning train to take me to hell, but I made a terrible mistake & persuaded myself that life could be different. That I could live another way & escape the 30 odd years of shit that I had trailed thru/ough. For 10 years I could sustain it and built a magnificent success, backed by the love of a good woman who deserved so much better than I. But in the end it wasn't possible to maintain ‘being someone else’ & now there are 4 innocents to be hurt by my ‘Cancer Of The Personality’ style toxicity & predictable unrelenting decline. I should have waited for the train or for the pills’n’pop to knock me away, because there was no one to be effected then. There was no ex-wife to have hurt, no children to emotionally damage. Love them as I do it's a crime to bring children into this shit world and I have blighted them with my faulty genes & failure as a parent.

    For the sake of all that really matters I can only hope they find a way of being a better person than I am. They already have. I'm so very proud of them and have great confidence in their ability to transcend me & the hurt I have caused them all. The sum total of upset will be less than that caused by continued contact with me.

    All vain attempts at meaningful creativity have come to nothing. Nothing in the sense of no success in trying to make a living out of this muck. The only time I succeeded at anything was when I was pulling in £37K p/yr producing opportunities for other people to do what I wanted to do myself. But also failure to do anything at all consequential, a complete inability to do anything that meant anything at all. All of that was just something I did while I could maintain the delusion that I was capable of anything. I have nothing in me, no-one wants me to participate in anything and to even let the thought of doing anything pass thru/ough my mind stings unbearably. All this accumulated failure hurts so vividly that I come to the point where it is clearly best not to even try. It was just an empty vanity anyway.

    I am so fucking sick of being in this shitty little town where pretty much everything I'’ve ever done wrong or fucked up is within 5 miles of me. Every day I go past countless places where I’'m reminded of this or that dreadful mistake. I’'ve lived elsewhere, I’'ve travelled, and as tho/ough I were a modest Earthbound version of Roy Batty I’'ve seen things you peeple wouldn'’t believe. But due to unfortunate circumstance & this unstinting sickness of the soul I ended up back here. And then I stayed here because I accepted that I’d subsequently married a wonderful woman who wanted & needed to stay close to her family, who in turn had somehow ended up here as part of the Palestinian Diaspora. To be fair she told me on our second date, I knowingly went with it and it was clear it was part of her familial culture which I respect & envy, but I guess I didn’'t know how much it was going to effect me, especially when she (metaphorically) got the 14 year itch & her love was (totally understandably) gone. I watched the wedding video recently – where did that man go?

    She always deserved better, and now that I am gone there is finally some happiness coming back into that home. We had attempted a reconciliation and even discussed me moving back in to the family home I’d left because I had been too ‘Broke In Tha Brane’ to be there. We talked of perhaps at some later date seeing ourselves in a happy retirement together, we talked of maybe even getting married again. But I couldn’'t deliver, couldn’'t recover a health in my soul and she quite rightly has moved on. Some time later she has found herself the beginnings of a new relationship and that's all ok. I’'m sincere in my gladness at seeing a new happiness in her, which I fervently hope can lead to her finally being fulfilled, whether thru/ough this or some other future. You see people can only fulfil themselves once I am removed. It’s been a lifelong pattern.

    And so Peter has gone, my family has gone, my worklife is fucked and now the bike’s had it too. I am entirely bereft of company, and as part of that I am (and will remain) bereft of female company (see ‘who in their right mind would wish to seek out contact with the blown out shit-storm that is ‘me’?’ above + add ugliness). I now just have to just sit here and wait. I’'ve totally exhausted all reserves of energy, ingenuity or hope and tried a million fucking solutions to no effect. I’'m disbarred from taking any actions to snuff out my aching shitfuck of a life by my conscience regarding the harm this would cause those unfortunate enough to have become connected to me. There is no way forward. Now I just sit here and wait. So in the end it’s all just a disgusting tale of human failure & emotional incontinence. Quite sickening really. This is probably no place to mention any of it, but I have to speak it somewhere. Don’t blame me for you having read it - On this here thread I’'ve always been ‘Sold As Seen’ so don’t say you weren’'t warned, it says it there in the sidebar ‘.also, I am a twat’. It’s been there unchanged since post 1.

    Please don't feel you have to say anything as I’d really rather not have to offend you by telling you exactly why you are wrong, not least because I have only mentioned a small portion of the disappointment & pain here. There’s plenty more but I’ll save you the nausea of watching my complete collapse shall I? It's not as if I've come to these conclusions on a whim. It's taken a solid 10 fucking years** for this repeated shit to bring me now totally to my knees so it's not like a well intentioned casual/sincere comment will bring to mind a solution I'’ve not already endlessly juggled & examined from every angle or perspective. There’s no need for comfort or reassurance. It’s done.

    Reality produces facts which cannot be disproved.



    * Swapped the HT leads & the problem stayed on the same side. Swapped the plugs. Each side has a healthy spark. There is fuel & the carbs are only slightly out of balance. Fuck it, there’s little point in continuing with any train of informational or diagnostic thought as the only thing it’s good for now is setting fire to. I may/will be sitting on it at the time.

    ** Since the work based bullying & strategic persecution started in ‘04 which led to a malicious & ill conducted redundancy and a Stick Based Legal Event which was followed by further lack of success in the job market (90 fucking applications for jobs I was a total fit for = a solitary unsuccessful interview) followed by further breakdown and the collapse of my marriage & family life. To locking myself in the madhouse to living in the woods etc. And so it goes on, unending & futile... Whine moan whine grind teeth ad inf.
  3. planktonnn

    planktonnn .also, i am a twat

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    Posted elsewhere in reply to a kind offer by DBD for a hand with my stubborn Airhead:


    No worries dear DBD :-) I have come to terms with its current demise. What I would really need is something like, er I don’t know, my shed, but that’s no longer possible, for fair reasons. The bike needs an electrical strip down/rebuild of the sort where you need to leave it on the bench for a few days & get right into it with left-out-tools-to-hand ‘n’all, and of course a budget to cover anything that comes up, and believe me stuff will come up. Something is shorting somewhere (everywhere?) so whenever the bike gets wet it plays hard to get you know? The carbs also need a strip down & service (i.e. sticky choke systems), and the valve train needs looking at, with maybe one of the heads coming off to check for seat recession or stretched stems? The left jug just seems to keep creeping out of correct valve timing? And I’m not sure the oil cooler is getting fed properly either. Mechanically the engine does seem generally ok if perhaps in need of a little adjustment, and the chassis & running gear is fine, though it too could do with a pinch of tightening here & there no doubt. It’s more like a week or two of work (with breaks for tea & pointing :-D ) rather than a days fettling.

    You know my scrappy builds aren’t of good enough quality or skill to last more than a couple of years at most and this one has got to the point where it needs to be pulled apart in a workshop into its main chunks to really get at the recurring problems. The plan had been to ride the Airhead whilst rebuilding the K Rat Bike and so on. But that has ceased to be possible... If I could temporarily disable the cctv here at 'The Place' then I could sneak either bike into my room and give it the time & energy it requires. I’ve never been against the old bedroom based bike rebuild, but even then I don’t have any budget at all and so many parts & tools got chucked out in the (rightfully) enforced shed clearance... Anything other than a deep refresh of the Airhead will just give a short period of reliability before something else craps out and then I’m once more left with a bike that doesn’t run but this time I’ve paid for new tax & MOT + a rear tyre etc.

    A short term fix is just not worth it because it needs to be sorted properly or it’ll just keep fucking me off, so it’ll just have to sit there until I can get the time, facilities & budget to do something with it properly – so you can expect to see it rusty’n’dusty in the ‘Found’ pages of Classic Bike in 20 years :-D

    Now if I could only find that birth certificate that has me down as the lost heir to the title of Prince of Monaco…

    Thanks anyhoo :-)


    PS - Reply also posted @ ADV to make at least one of the posts there bike related.
  4. chollo9

    chollo9 Screwed the Pooch

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    Okay so you're a cunt. You're a human being and I love you.

    Hope you get your bike fixed.

    If you don't, well then, see above.

    That's all I got.

    Joe
  5. rightsideup

    rightsideup Get your motor running...

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    +1
  6. Thorazine

    Thorazine Likes exhaust fumes

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    Planktonn, there's a shit ton of strength in candor (as in preferable to denial). Maybe it's time to lay low--or not, dunno. I hope you can somehow fix that bike. A working bike is usually what it takes to pick me back up when things are fucked and going downhill. (I know, the old bike/life metaphor/cliché but it's true for some of us--at least as a jump to get back going).

    Be well, buddy.
  7. rightsideup

    rightsideup Get your motor running...

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    Very nicely put Thorazine
  8. bpeckm

    bpeckm Grin!

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    [​IMG]


    Indeed. So sorry.....

    .
  9. planktonnn

    planktonnn .also, i am a twat

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    Nothing whatever at all, blank, void, vacant, without a particle.
    None?
    Absent, non-resident, empty, nobody.
    Not a soul?
    Truant, missing, deserted, the bird has flown.
    None?
    Nothing.
    Tenant-less, devoid, minus, removed, exiled, elsewhere.
    Transferred?
    Misplaced, stayed away, nowhere to be found.
    Lost?
    Rejected, discharged, omitted, forgotten.
    Nothing.
    Evicted?
    Rooted out.
    Weeded out.
    Sent to coventry.
    Brushed aside, bundled away, struck off the roll.
    Murdered whilst sleeping.
    Spat out.
    Blasted out.
    Flung out.
    Gone.
    Plucked from beneath our very noses.
    Bereft of life.
    A beggarly account of empty boxes.
    Incomplete.
    Ill furnished.
    Impoverished.
    Empty handed.
    Starved.
    Under fed.
    Under nourished.
    Undesired.
    Old mother Hubbard's famous empty cupboards.
    Scarce, cast off.
    Trash, inoperative.
    Inadequate, superfluous.
    Aborted.
    Terminated.
    Sterile.
    Impotent.
    Good for nowt.
    No, not here.
    Never.
    Nothing.



  10. Stagehand

    Stagehand Imperfectionist

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    wheels to the sky, brother
  11. Dirtyboydeadly

    Dirtyboydeadly AKA. Shineyboydudley

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    Hey planktonnn "Dave" recons that your starting issues are tight valve related. Hope that helps 😊

    Sent from my Nexus 7 using Tapatalk
  12. planktonnn

    planktonnn .also, i am a twat

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    Clearances were last set by "Ian Dave" 1500 or so miles ago. The right jug always catches first and generally sounds very slightly on the close end of about right, whether cold or warm. The left jug clatters slightly more, and is the one that doesn't like to catch. Last time "Ian Dave" did the clearances it was the left that needed most adjustment...

    It's no doubt relevant that, not having a centre stand, the left jug seems to sort of wet sump oil down into the inclined cylinder a little, what with always being on the side stand 'n' ting, and it blows this out when it catches. Rings were new in post '82 barrels at the original rebuild. EDIT: You're right, valve clearances are definitely on the go-to list tho/ough.

    New plugs and pulling the battery out for a top-up/charge have both helped to get it started & doing very limited mileage, but it's still reluctant to cold start and this was after a couple of relatively dry days so the bike wasn't wet thru/ough. It still coughs back into the left carb at medium revs/medium throttle in any gear. As before, adding or subtracting the slightest bit of throttle clears this.

    Still not riding it further than pushing back distance...
  13. planktonnn

    planktonnn .also, i am a twat

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    Dear DB (that's DB not DBD),

    Now, let's be frank. This is where you either understand me or get offended. It's up to you.

    You don't know me from Grizzly Adams, so while your input is mucho kind and appreciated you're going to have to refer back to the bit near the end in post 4822 where I mentioned about telling people why they are wrong. Now don't misunderstand, but I'm going to take your reasonable & logical suggestion that I volunteer somewhere as a template to set out a wider proposition, which is that I have tried everything I can think of already. Already.

    I have a 25 year plus history of working in the scrag-end corners of the music/film business (tho/ough with no success you would have heard of, & as an aside it's less of a 'business' & more of a loose confederation of cunts* ripping each other off), and a reasonable portion of this was spent doing something worthwhile by building an internationally successful Community Youth Music Project called Soundstudio here in the Former United Commonwealth Kingdoms, for which I raised around £750k of external funding. That all went sour because I am insufficiently anodyne & flaccid for local government work, where you're not really supposed to achieve anything because it shows ones colleagues up as the useless tossers that they generally are. And so after (by mistake) making me employee of the year from their 14000 staff they got jittery & locked me in an attic like an embarrassing Bronte-esque relative before taking me thru constructive dismissal as previously described on this thread. Once those juggernauts get rolling there's no stopping them.

    Anyway long before I did this I worked at this other arts centre place (with Pjcr12 as deputy then full director), and so some-when more than a couple of years ago I approached them to see if there were any opportunities in fields I had a background in, or even just serving coffee behind the bar during daytime sessions (NB. Peter had left some time before). They well knew what I was capable of, but also knew that I was (am) an unbearable sick cunt, so it took towards a year to be allowed in to do the coffee bar on a Tuesday morning. Fair enough I thought, walk in under the radar & see what possibilities could be developed, or just do it for the sake of the doing of it. The eventual answer was that unfortunately nothing was picked up or developed so I withdrew from doing it in January after maybe over a year at the coffee jug. I was privately warned off applying for the upcoming post of casual sound & lighting engineer (my trade!) and this general sense of suppression melded with the death of Pjcr12 and a lot of conversations where I had to bite my tongue from telling some centre users discussing his death just quite how acutely he thought they were useless bastards littering the world with shit art. During my time there I hope I continued my long heritage of working with all sorts of people from all sorts of backgrounds & communities, particularly those from Disabled (or as I prefer, Differently Able) Communities, trying to understand their experiences & reflect on my own life thru/ough considering theirs as you suggest. I just couldn't make what I was doing there go anywhere because I am the aforementioned unsociable & understandably dislikeable cunt, and even if the simple doing of it would have been enough it came to the point where I was going to be very unpopular for saying the truth & I just wasn't fit to be seen out in public any longer. I wasn't going to be able to hold in the comments that would have seen me kicked out.

    I know that you were perhaps referring to the volunteer thing simply as an example of what might be attempted, but I have the unfortunate responsibility of telling you that it was attempted with some vigour (there and at other examples I'll spare you) and it didn't work. Sorry. I also have the unfortunate duty of reminding you that, with reference to your example, Edison was apparently a capitalist charlatan who did very little if any of the 1000 different attempts at the light bulb himself but instead built a village full of underpaid boffins whose hard work he claimed as tho/ough he were some kind of scientific Ringling Brother taking credit for the Elephants herculean acrobatics as if they were his own. I understand the general 'try, try & try again' point you are making but forgive me, that's not an example of fortitude & persistence, more of unbridled exploitation & overpowering unconscionable ego :-D Sorry.

    Your reasonable & kind suggestion that I scoot off somewhere different is, I'm afraid, not something that I have not tried on a number of occasions too. I believe I covered it all when I used the phrase 'so I go nowhere because of who I am when I get there' in the original post. Granted such a short phrase doesn't give you a lot of clues that this might be the case, but then there's such a panoramic plethora of shit going on that I have to compress some of it or I'd be sitting here forever, which I am anyway. I succeeded with something like Soundstudio due to a fit-for-purpose product, a good sales pitch & fine intuitive lateral thinking/problem solving skills, and as I said I have applied every ounce of all of my capability to solving my past/current/permanent predicament, and I hope that after this illustrative series of explanations you may have some faith in the veracity of that statement.

    So I do appreciate your time & energy and kind thoughts and I'm happy to keep up with a challenge as you suggest, but with all due modesty & not an ounce of condescension might I please suggest that we begin the challenge by trying to think of something I've not already thought of? I know I'm coming off like a twat (which I am) who is determined for things to be all out of whack** (I'm not, they just are), but honestly, it's not as if I've not given it some thought already. Already.

    Thanks for your time & consideration.



    * More cunts. You'd have thought I would fit in, but they're a different breed of cunts...
    ** I was recently described by my dear friend who lives in the middle of a castle in France thusly - "
    You are about the most eloquent permanent moaner I have ever encountered" :-D

    PS - If you don't mind I will post this PM reply on the thread (with one link redacted) so we can all keep up to date with ongoing attempts to find a way out of this shit until we stumble across something that's not occurred to me.
    __________________

    Edit: I should make a small clarification regarding the length of time it took to get behind the coffee bar. The placement itself was arranged quite promptly by a worker at the centre who I have always found to be both effective & efficient, as well as responsive to initiatives. It was the lead up to that interaction that took the time. I don't have a problem that it took time, but it took time. That's all.
  14. planktonnn

    planktonnn .also, i am a twat

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    Appreciated, but doesn't this mean I would have quite probably crashed upside down into a ditch tho/ough?:norton
  15. planktonnn

    planktonnn .also, i am a twat

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  16. planktonnn

    planktonnn .also, i am a twat

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    Brain Doom Dream War... I shall start an imaginary band with my Igor/Obelix/Watson PW & scream the world to an end.
  17. boxertricks

    boxertricks Been here awhile

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    Could it be water getting in the fuel causing your problems, it seems you've covered just about everything else,just a thought.
  18. planktonnn

    planktonnn .also, i am a twat

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    Yup, it's certainly a possibility isn't it. I've had the tank as empty as I could get it (inc. taps off & wiggletude) and there didn't seem to be any sign of water there. Had a look around inside with the aid of a battery powered LED snake light, and also I couldn't smell anything suspicious as if such a thing might be possible. The bike has not been run into the reserve for some considerable time so the lower pick up pipes seem not to have had the chance to suck in the contents of the lower reaches of the tank, whatever they may be.

    I have often of late had occasion to drop the float bowls and there's been no sign of anything there. The taps are (I seem to recall but can't be bothered to confirm) Karkoma straight downs with the plastic filters in the bottom, which are clear. There are no filters inline in the fuel pipe. The tank cap seems happy and the rubbers were replaced on rebuild. I've not siliconed up the keyhole as a certain DBD did when I seem to recall he also had a fuel contamination thing. I think he mentioned that when he did this he got a fuel feed problem from the tank airlocking?

    I am unsure of what ethanol content we get fed round here (E15?), and what consequential hygroscopic properties that slop may have, or what effect absorption may have if it happens to any significant level? I'm not against the inclusion of ethanol per se and I'm not personally aware if it raises any wider problems (besides the 'Gls Fbr tank seam melting'/tank sealant dissolving/'o' rings going south varieties) but I'm irritated that it effectively (to my understanding) lowers the MPG yield while all the time prices are rising, so we're double screwed over no?

    Like I said before, the bike needs to be dug into and various bits tuned, adjusted or replaced as each may require.

    Sometime...
  19. planktonnn

    planktonnn .also, i am a twat

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    I wonder if anyone round this here ADV has owned an R90S for 34 years this October and has just replaced it as a day to day rider with a R1150 GS that they rebuilt from some one else's get off. ;)
  20. Thorazine

    Thorazine Likes exhaust fumes

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    Heaven Raven??? What the fuck is this lame-ass shit? If that we're my name, I'd deserve to get my ass kicked.

    If I could choose, it'd be Lemmy Kilmister, but that's taken (by the only person who deserves it).

    Love the Doodle.
    [​IMG]

    Heaven Raven :puke1 Jesus lap-dancing Christ. Thanks Plank. You owe me.