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I wanted to turn to you and tell you how much I admire you this afternoon. I don't know you from Eve, but you are currently my hero. For blocks and blocks, you calmly rejected and shut down that (self-described) drunk homeless man who did nothing but try to break into your sober, recovering, formerly homeless life. "We're friends!" he said multiple times. Your calm replies: "I am not your friend," "I don't bring anybody home with me," "I'm happy living alone, happy being sober."
You handled what could have been a confrontation, the kind of conversation that often ends in confrontation, with so much poise and integrity that those of us around you knew we didn't need to come to your rescue. You handled it with more ability than we could have mustered. That guy got off at the next stop.
Stranger Personals
I hope that when you got home, you had someone to talk to, to debrief the conversation with. I hope your sponsor was available, or someone else to tell you how amazing and strong you are. Bless your heart. We all wish you well in your continued recovery.
—Anonymous
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How are we going to blame women for ruining society and attacking masculinity with this I, Anon?
Weak.
fear not, I'm sure Ziffy is up to the task.Wow, so funny!
Anyway, I think #9 nailed it. This jerk will keep up with this kind of patter until someone introduces a shoe to his balls.
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It's like watching someone graduate from kindergarden to first grade.
On their 40th birthday.
We're all so proud of you, Ziffy! Keep plugging away at it; in a few more years you might manage to make some half-heartedly chuckle.
As for #13 (suddenlyorcas), how old are you? 14? Because your comment is so, so "MySpace", and since MySpace is now dead, that would imply you are a paedo.
Bravo!
Good on you, lady on the bus, well played. Defend your sobriety like your life depends on it. Cuz it does.
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And here you are, slog's current most reliable source of stupid: a lackwit who has to hide out on the "I, Anon" threads because you know that they're a backwater and that you'd get cut to ribbons by the regulars if you dared show your face there.
So yeah, for now and until I get distracted, you're my hobby. And we're gonna make some beautiful music together, by which I mean the sound of your metaphorical head hitting the metaphorical curb in 3/3 time. (I like a waltz, me.) Because it's not that I'm a super genius (although, to be sure, I am), but it's that you are so very dumb. (Case in point: having thought about it really hard for several hours, the best you could do for a comeback was UR SO GHEY. Bitch, please.) It's gonna be awesome.
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Since you don't know me personally or really anything about me at all, all your "pithy" comments are really just you masturbating at your keyboard while making up fantasy nonsense that like most Interweb fantasies, has little to do with reality.
One really has to wonder about what your secret agenda is... You spend so much time assessing my comments, but make very few of your own “original thoughts”, but of course, that’s part of what an obsession is.
As Abigail Van Buren says, “seek professional help”.
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Also, protip: when your first attempt at OMG UR GAY completely whiffs past the mark, a second attempt only makes you look... well, let's just say even more foolish than usual. But keep trying, I'm sure the third time will be awesome!
As for my secret agenda, well... that would be telling.
Dude (if I may call you that), it's December 6th, and the WEED is "flowing" like cheap alcohol in Belltown.
Can't you be just a little more creative?
You are a sad, sad man.
And again, I WILL NOT SLEEP WITH YOU.
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I know there are people with that fetish, but I've never actually met one in person or "on line".
But of course if we were to meet at Victor Steinbrueck Park for this Shit Fling-off, we would actually have a variety to choose from: dog shit, bum shit, unidentified shit... That park is full of shit.
I would of course bring my own, in zip-lock bags.
But the crux of the problem is that Dr. Dope has an unhealthy fixation of me, and I sense that in part it is sexual, in a possibly perverted way.
So, I'm not inclined to meet him because I don't wish to be tied up with a ball in my mouth a la Pulp Fiction, and forced to let some Neck Beard like Dr. Dope have his perverted way with me.
There are plenty of ads for Rent Boys in the back pages of The Stranger that he can choose from to fulfill his fantasies of personal humiliation.
@Ziffy & DocM: Get a room already. Jesus tap-dancing Christ you two take the cake.
Dr. Dope offered to meet me at City Hall this weekend with platinum rings, cocaine, and malt liquor, but I turned him down. He wanted to bring St. Ides, and I only drink Olde E.
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