The PPC Posting Board - Latest posts

"And those sausage-bun thingies," Chani adds, contemplating actually eating the candy instead of throwing it.

Chani cocks her head, then nods.

"Definitely. Unfortunately, I have neither the skill nor the inclination to remedy that," she comments, pegging a bystander with a root beer flavored candy.

Faris ducks that one, and picks it up. "They're edible," he says, and pops the first one into his mouth. "'Sides, who makes food to be thrown? Aside of custard pies, of course."

Chani grins and throws another one at him.

"So eat 'em."

For good measure, Hiro (who is sitting next to Chani) chucks another butterscotch at Faris.

"Wasting?" He asks. "Butterscotches were made to be thrown."

Hiro pauses long enough to take off his sword, and then sits down, cross-legged. He grabs something involving far too much chocolate and peanut butter to be healthy, and then leans back against the wall.

"You know," he says after a moment of thought, "this place could use some music."

A bit puzzled- he's not used to ghostly hands, especially not those that aren't attacking-, Faris eyes both Felix and Chani, and then swoops on the butterscotch. "You're wasting these, throwing them around like that," he says, waving the candy at Chani.

Chani eyes the newcomer and throws a butterscotch at him.

"Can't eat candy with a mask on," she informs him, feeling like a small child and loving it.

There is a young man here who moves with the alert confidence of someone who has won many battles. His long, uneven brown hair is tied back so as to obscure little of his face and less of his vision. However, the blue-and-green mask he wears covers at least enough of his face on its own.

As our imaginary viewer's eyes travel downward, they pause on a blue cape, a slightly battered breastplate over a gray-green tunic, and a worn sword hanging from the man's belt.

After a few moments spent looking around, Felix nods, steps forward a little, and holds out his hand. Those sensitive to magical or psychic phenomena would see a giant ghostly hand spring out from his own, close gently on a cup of Hot Bleepolate, and carry it back to him; those not so sensitive would simply see the cup flying into Felix's hand. He raises the cup to his mouth, but stops as it hits the mask. His other arm moves up into a facepalm.

I swear I replied to it. And chucked the document back to you to boot.

*stabs the server*

Chani carefully aimed and lobbed a chocolate at the young man, hitting him in the forehead.

"There's candy, stupid," she snorted, taking aim with a caramel and pegging the blond in the nose.

The Fremen woman looks down at the massive bowl of candy, then back up at the unfamiliar man.

"Well, I was. But probably not anymore."

She nudges a pumpkin away with a sandal, making room for Hiro to sit, and sets the bowl in front of her.

He- well, as far as anyone can tell- makes for the candy, after a quick look around, and appears to be looking for gold-wrapped coins and possibly just anything that takes his fancy. He's wearing a blue tunic-like shirt, brown trousers and boots, and has a green scarf loosely wrapped around his neck, a bag at his waist, and a sheathed sword. His hair falls just past his shoulders, and is purple.

Hiro approaches Chani, carefully keeping in front of her, and keeping an eye on her knife hand.

"Planning on eating all of that yourself?"

I've sent you the same e-mail three times. Has the server eaten them all?

The blond appeared to be a young man, wearing a blue officer's military uniform and a rapier at his side. Green eyes scanned the room and he crossed his arms petulantly while trying to force back the excited grin on his face.

"Hmpf. A human party? Can't say I'm impressed." The boy kicked one of the pumpkins. "What are all these things doing on the floor? This is so unsanitary!"

Must I whisk you?

I gift thee with an egg whisk! It's shiny, gold-plated...and, hey, it whisks eggs! However, it may also be utilized in the whisking of author wraiths and spambots. Use it for good and not evil.

Welcome to the insanity!

The tan, dark-haired young woman sat cross-legged in a corner, her vivid blue eyes watching all warily as she hugged a large bowl of candy to her chest. A long crysknife lay sheathed next to her, and her green tunic and tan trousers were made of a simple, homespun cloth.

"A strange Offworld custom," she mumbled to herself through a mouthful of chocolate, "but a good one."

(the reliability of which I know nothing about - I googled)

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=lulzcow
lulzcow
An ass clown. Someone who provides many lulz from their own ridiculousness.
Bill: Did you go to that link I sent you the other day?
Ted: Yeah, that guy was a lulzcow.


To follow the linked references...


http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=lulz
lulz
Beginning as a plural variant of lol, Lulz was originally an exclamation but is now often used as a noun meaning interesting or funny internet content.
Lol -> lul; lols -> luls; lolz -> lulz.
Lulz is the one good reason to do anything, from trolling to rape. After every action taken, you must make the epilogic dubious disclaimer: "I did it for the lulz".

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=ass%20clown
Ass clown
(ás kloun) n.:
one, who, through the fault of his parents conception, is a skid mark in society's collective underwear.


And from Encylopedia Dramatica...


http://www.encyclopediadramatica.com/Lol-cow
A lol-cow is a victim of a Flame War who can't help but be milked for lulz time and time again. They have a compulsive need to give up as many laughs as possible at their own expense despite themselves.



So, if I'm reading this right, it means... well, it's certainly not polite.

Well, I already know the answer, but a question could be 'What are the benefits, if any, of herbal tea?'

The scenary they were using reminded me of 'The Sound of Music'. I half expected Julie Andrews to wander out, singing 'The Hills Are Alive' while Saphira and Eragon look at her with the WTF-Look on their faces.

Did I get 'him? Did I get 'im? No? Drat. Someone fetch my trollspray!
And what's a lulzcow? Is it the feminine version of the Ypur?

Much older. They were published in 1968, and Australian copyright lasts for 50 years, unless special extensions are made. 50 years after the death of the author, that is.

In which case, this just adds another bad point to the crime. Unless he gained permission from Le Guin herself, he could eaisly be sued for it. Chances are that no-one else has made the connection, or Le Guin refuses to read the books.
Now that gives me a humerous mental picture of all the best Fantasy Authors sitting in a circle, discussing this and that. They look at the cover of 'Eragon', and decide to throw it in the fire. They all have British accents for some reason, though not all of them are British.