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[Hanslanda]

Made me gag a bit, but earlier I found an icicle and poked it.

T'wasn't an icicle, It was someone's phlegm. Ewww...

Wat.
I'm not really sure what question I should ask to get you to confirm that for what I think you meant.

Phlegm=mucous in your throat.

Hack, spit. If you have a cold, it's probably phlegm that comes out.

Your sentence structure is confusing as shit.

The icicle was made of phlegm? Or you were poking an unreferenced object that turned out to be phlegm? Or you gagged up phlegm and poked it with an icicle?

[Hanslanda]

Ooooh. I see now. Ew. Phlegm! Phlegm! Phlegm! Phlegethor the Mighty!

[kaijyuu]

The fiance can pop in if she likes to correct me, but I believe we have a good amount of eye contact, but not an excessive amount. We don't often look directly at each other when talking unless we're trying to be romantic or something.

[Hanslanda]

Yeah. My LF only really does eye contact when she's trying to be flirty. Or make me uncomfortable. Or when we're making fun of someone.

[Hanslanda]

If you don't usually look people in the eyes, only do it when you accidentally barge in on them whilst they are on the loo.

Lock eyes. Don't stop staring, and slowly back towards the door and leave, maintaining eye contact as long as possible. Watch them get more and more uncomfortable.

Note to self: Take all of Greatorder's advice.

[Gunner-Chan]

I actually don't like making eye contact. Mostly since people think my eye is creepy. Besides some people really close to me that either like it or got used to it.

And then there's my daughter, who seems to keep it going as long as possible especially if it makes people uncomfortable. Sometimes I worry a little about her.

[Hanslanda]

I actually don't like making eye contact. Mostly since people think my eye is creepy. Besides some people really close to me that either like it or got used to it.

And then there's my daughter, who seems to keep it going as long as possible especially if it makes people uncomfortable. Sometimes I worry a little about her.

Janet's daughter is going to be the first, really famous female serial killer.

[Jerick]

Spoiler: giant wall'o text (click to show/hide)

This post is about my mother mostly and requires some background;
For the last number of years (about twelve I think) she has been on critical illness benifit and is pretty much completely unemployable despite being fully functional and a single mother of three (me and my brothers have reccently flown the coup so to speak). This has left her with not much she can do but plenty to stress over. Then she joined a volenteer charity organisation and her mood improved almost instantly. It wasn't long before her work ethic got her the treasurer position of the local branch of said charity organisation. This was problems started to emerge and I started hearing about them. Asking for solid numbers it turned out made one or two the higher up memebers a touch aggressive and most of the rest of them where of the wishy-washy persuasion where everyone has an equaly valid point and thus there is no point arguing or getting confrontional. This continued for some time with most of the memebers of the local branch not doing any will a small subset activitly resisted any kind of bookeeping.

Eventualy they decided to open a charity shop. Of course it was the bullish, adverse to bookeeping and accountablity guys who were left to run it. It was a small old rural comunity so donations of unwanted clothes and other objects poured in. Then came the stories, stories about blantent mismanagement and sevre abuses of trust. Years past and I regularly heard stories about donations going missing (these inculded whole sets of furniture) and large amounts of money going missing, about how some rather unsavoury characters (one married to one of the people who had been most against keeping records) where coming into the shop and let do and say what they liked. In the end the charity where forced to involve the police and a number of members where kicked out of the charity and their books where heavily audited. Said auditers described whoever had been keeping the shop books as innumerate. All totaled a six figure sum was completely unacounted for.

Having actualy been able to manage the accounts after the trouble makers left to screw up the shop my mother had done a very good job getting things in order. Now when she first starting volenteering she made a friend for the purposes of this retelling she shall be called Miss Mribit. Miss Mribit was never the sharpest, in fact I would go as far to say Miss Mribit was the stupidist adult I had ever met, but she tried.  Once the shit hit the fan at the shop my mother and Miss Mribit kind of got sucked in to fill the void left by all former peremant staff being investigated for fraud. At first things went well and they where able to turn the shop around and make alot of money that went to helping the people in the area suffering worst from poverty.

But Miss Mribit was very close minded, she only liked one very specific type of music and to her all others where rubbish and what you where saying was only valid if it agreed with what she already believed I found her at best tolerable. Miss Mribit wanted things done her way even though she had no real expirence beyond being a waitress whereas my mother had twenty years working retail behind her. There was friction Miss Mribit doing her own thing and my mother trying to run an effective shop. Often times it seemed Miss Mribit would refuse to do things simply because she was incapable of figuring out why it should be done even after it was explained to her. I myself spent alot of time trying to explain why leaving a paper trail of every cent that comes or goes from the shop was vital especialy after the last lot where kicked out but it was a total waste of time. Other times it just seemed like she was just being lazy. Months past and the friction flared up into arguments which grew in frequency. The shop like most charity shops was staffed mostly by volenteers who where giving up there free time to help and they where being told one thing by one of the people left to manage it and a completely different thing by the other. They lost a lot of volenteers that way.

This continued for about a year and a half before the rumors began surfacing. Miss Mribit it turned out had been spending most of her time in the shop when my mother wasn't there spreading lies amoung the more gullable volenteers to try and get them on her side. Rumor after rumor began flying each a touch more vicious than the last. Now the place where this is happing as mentioned earlier was an old rural village and is a place where everyone knows everyone and their family within a fifty mile radius and my mother had become quiet popular in her time there so there were many who rejected the rumors. But my mother is a traditional Irish woman who views her good name as one of the most of the important things she ever had.

One of the functions of this charity was visitations where if you badly off in anyway they would send someone round to see just how badly off you where and how the charity could help. Not long after the rumors about my mother began flying I began hearing rumors about Miss Mribit, about stealing the nicer donations, about creaming from the till, about breaking confidentiality from visitations and other unpleasent things. It was when a victim of domestic abuse who had previously reached out to the charity came to our door a phone bill in her hand did things come into fairly clear focus. She had had a visitation by Miss Mribit about her situation only to have her husband (her abuser) come back and repeat what she had told Miss Mribit word for word on the very same day. Her phone bill had 15 different calls between her husband's phone and Miss Mribit's phone listed on it for that day. The reason she came to us with this? Everyone was already talking about this and convinced that my mother had breached confidentiality and told her husband which she knew to be a lie. On my mothers advice she filed a formal complaint with the regional office for this charity.

It's time to introduce the three regional managers; A, B and C. A is both the only female of the three and conincdentaly the only one with balls or any kind of compatance. B is the manager of not one, not two but three buisnesses that look to be all driving headlong into total collapse, he is also a total doormat. C is an insufferably arrogant self described and proud masgonist but is chronicaly afraid of anything that could be described as a risk. I don't like C very much. A, B and C have been trying to sort out the growing dysfunction in this particular shop even though it's just one of many they are responsible for. However they do this by asking Miss Mribit for a list of volenteers they can interview to find out what the problem is. In fact B and C primarily contact Miss Mribit about any issues rather than my mother and Miss Mribit. They choose to rely on Miss Mribit to pass measages to my mother about meetings to sort out the situation. Instead Miss Mribit refuses to comunicate with my mother or even aknowledge her existance. Leading to my mother being excluded from said meetings. Time passes and the situation becomes more vicious and the atmosphere in the shop becomes more hostile. The lady who brought us her phone bill finds C at her door telling her to drop the formal complaint, she refuses.

For unrelated reasons my mother has to go and have surgery this takes her out of action for three months, during which time rumors have been flying about my mother being kicked out of the charity. This made her return to the shop all the more troublesome for Miss Mribit who had been the principle agent in the rumor's spread. When she arrived to check the books Miss Mribit complained to A, B and C who told her my mother had every right to be there. The books where a mess, turns out there was frequently money taken from the till that exactly matched the price of cigartes from the shop across the street, there where other mystery payouts from the till and the shops incomings and outgoings where barely even noted. Miss Mribit it turned out looked at a bank statment saw money and spent it (mostly on things for the shop but usualy pricey things she didn't need and could gotten cheaper elsewhere) without realising cheques had been written and where waiting to be cahsed (even when she wrote the cheques) In short the time she had the shop to her self it has been completely mismanaged, the shop takings are way down from when the two of them where running and the shop costs are way up.

That brings us to today where A, B, and C had called a meeting of every volenteer in the local branch of the charity there was much talking and in the end A, B and C decided that the obvious solution was to remove my mother from the organisation.
For several years she's put up with a whole lot of pysciological pounding because she loved what she did, she always had. It's given her a realease, given her a reason to get out of the house again and now...
To say that she is distraught would be an understatement. To say that I'm angry would be one hell of an understatement. Excuse me while I go and murder something.

[Lightningfalcon]

I'll let you borrow my cement blocks and rope.   

I poked what I thought was an icicle (it was clear and icicle shaped), and it turned out to be phlegm. I gagged for about a minute, and still have to repress my gag reflex when I think about it.

Where are you located that's cold enough to freeze phlegm? 

[Darvi]

It didn't freeze, I think. That's how he found out what the goopy mess was.

[nenjin]

Extended eye contact gives me a (splitting) headache.

Yes, soul removal is generally an unpleasant experience. *nod*

It's unfortunately that eye contact is de facto signaling of attention in this culture, really. It's not like I can not pay attention (I broke that part when I was about twelve -- if I say I didn't hear you, I'm probably disassembling to some degree or had ear phones in, because I can't not listen anymore Which... yeah. TV. Hate.), but most people seem to be woefully inattentive of their surroundings so... people expect some kind of physical cue instead of just assuming the person with functioning ears can hear them.

Note the phrase is "make eye contact", not, eye duel them until they flinch. I've noticed in my new job lately that people talk to me, sometimes against my wishes, because I make a lot of eye contact. People like knowing that you find their conversation compelling enough to pay attention to them while they're doing it, I'd say mostly subconsciously. That's still different than never breaking eye contact. I find that shit uncomfortable too because I just stare into someone's pupil and start to lose the thread of what they're saying. A guy I work with makes almost no eye contact when customers try to make conversation with him, and they generally leave him alone. Which he likes. But he generally leaves people with the impression he's an asshole or is kind of pathologically aloof.

I dunno. I was really shy growing up and still kind of am, so I made it a point early on to make eye contact with people, especially adults. It always seemed to play well with them. I also like eye contact because it's harder for people to lie to you.

[Darvi]

Eye contact's a bitch anyway. Have you ever tried to get your eyes to touch eachother? The bloody skull would get in the way anyway!

[Flying Dice]

One of my texts disappeared over break. FUCK YOU RANDOM MISSING-ITEM GNOMES. NOT PAYING $200 TO GET ANOTHER COPY FOR ONE DAMNED SEMESTER.

On the upside, it came with a full, free e-text, so I can use that. Of course that entails lugging around my gorram heavy new laptop all the time.

[Sirus]

Eye contact's a bitch anyway. Have you ever tried to get your eyes to touch eachother? The bloody skull would get in the way anyway!

I am simultaneously amused and squicked.

[MaximumZero]

WHERE IN THE UNHOLY FUCK ARE TUITION AMOUNTS WRITTEN DOWN!?