Y. Fish
New member
Hmm... lunis, lunis... well, the prefix "lun" seems to always have something to do with the moon, or "lupe," but that's more like wolves, so named because they howl at the moon... Some ancient Native American legend said that they howl at the moon because they think it's a rice cake, but why would a carnivorus wolf want a rice cake? Anyways... Could "lunis" be the original name of the godess of the moon, before she was Roman-ificatied and named Diana? Or could it just mean you're loony? (Which, cooincidentally, also has to do with the moon- the word originated from the superstition that people, especially women, act crazy when the moon is full.)
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Pretzel Head
Guest
*copied from old server to once again kick Plastik's cauliflower*
*puts ear in pocket for later chewing at parties*
Lets all listen. Can you hear it? Its the sound of munchkins hiking away up their icecream mountains, the "hi ho hi ho" escaping their lips along with a stream of profanities that you would normally come across only on a day with a fair wind, a full sail, and possibly a boat. But I care not for such trifles! Just because you tempt me with shallow things such as custard, cream and sponge cake. It means naught i tell you! Look ok. Sofa's eat you. Its a fact of life. You walk into a book store, sit down, and dowwwwwn you go. Next thing you know your in apartment store hell slaving away in the lounge chair division with a bunch of corporate executives swimming around in the sweat pooled in the small of your back! Not a nice life i can tell you. But it beats holding a telephonic reverberator to your leg hairs and pulling.
Basically I'm trying to give you a summation of several things. First up its not easy for me to run around in a mutant tiger skin shouting quotes from Fortune at passing sets of dentures. Its not easy for anyone. Secondly you dont have a clue what it means to EVERY WEEK OF THE DAY continually kissing a toad just to get a measly pay check of 45 cents a week at the end of the hour. The monkey's in the lab ate pickles. Thirdly every human being on this rock tries vainly to pick up a noodle with their chopstick piano, always giving me the impression they're on some sort of mind-balancing drug with a seesaw down their pants. Probably a Jeremy Rockliff down there too. Dont ask.
Fourthly aligators. I keep them in the ashtray. Along with the cider. It keeps it cool you know. Heavenly beings flutter down and say "Fool, keepy our eyes on the grass. It's only a naive idiot who eats with his eyes closed!".
Ahem
Coming in in fifth position has to do with working in a pile of toothpaste while giving a chihuaha a thorough combing with a herring. Every tried it? It gives the most terrible athritis in the lower abdomen. But you must relax everything. Feel your ribcage. Now breathe! Forcing out the air, however rancid it might be. Trust me. Its goooooooood for you! BUT ITS WRONG!!!
Hate me for I am a robot. Its a skill I picked up as a child. Plastik was there, but he was busying canoodling with a rolled up newspaper. Him and his fetishes. I'll never hear the end of a piece of string. Why is it tied around my leg and attached to a chicken? He's a cutesome thing he is too. Very fluffy.
*puts ear in pocket for later chewing at parties*
Lets all listen. Can you hear it? Its the sound of munchkins hiking away up their icecream mountains, the "hi ho hi ho" escaping their lips along with a stream of profanities that you would normally come across only on a day with a fair wind, a full sail, and possibly a boat. But I care not for such trifles! Just because you tempt me with shallow things such as custard, cream and sponge cake. It means naught i tell you! Look ok. Sofa's eat you. Its a fact of life. You walk into a book store, sit down, and dowwwwwn you go. Next thing you know your in apartment store hell slaving away in the lounge chair division with a bunch of corporate executives swimming around in the sweat pooled in the small of your back! Not a nice life i can tell you. But it beats holding a telephonic reverberator to your leg hairs and pulling.
Basically I'm trying to give you a summation of several things. First up its not easy for me to run around in a mutant tiger skin shouting quotes from Fortune at passing sets of dentures. Its not easy for anyone. Secondly you dont have a clue what it means to EVERY WEEK OF THE DAY continually kissing a toad just to get a measly pay check of 45 cents a week at the end of the hour. The monkey's in the lab ate pickles. Thirdly every human being on this rock tries vainly to pick up a noodle with their chopstick piano, always giving me the impression they're on some sort of mind-balancing drug with a seesaw down their pants. Probably a Jeremy Rockliff down there too. Dont ask.
Fourthly aligators. I keep them in the ashtray. Along with the cider. It keeps it cool you know. Heavenly beings flutter down and say "Fool, keepy our eyes on the grass. It's only a naive idiot who eats with his eyes closed!".
Ahem
Coming in in fifth position has to do with working in a pile of toothpaste while giving a chihuaha a thorough combing with a herring. Every tried it? It gives the most terrible athritis in the lower abdomen. But you must relax everything. Feel your ribcage. Now breathe! Forcing out the air, however rancid it might be. Trust me. Its goooooooood for you! BUT ITS WRONG!!!
Hate me for I am a robot. Its a skill I picked up as a child. Plastik was there, but he was busying canoodling with a rolled up newspaper. Him and his fetishes. I'll never hear the end of a piece of string. Why is it tied around my leg and attached to a chicken? He's a cutesome thing he is too. Very fluffy.
P
plastik
Guest
(( and it seems I was shot back into first place with this post on the old server, only to have Pretz's rebuttal above ))
*knights pretz, but accidently cuts off the tip of his ear*
So this is how big heads begin and ghetto booties begin. Hark! This elbow is not the softest noodle to bake! Let us pray the monkies are in dire need of snorkle equipment. Ah, the avalanche left me pantless and needing a medic. So the line on the paper said water leaks through my elephant ears of nostalgic history. Letters written on the hides of gorillaz is the only fictional way to analyze the knighting of our Twisted Prince Pretzely Wetzely. Mine fingers have tested better keyboards than this! Call forth the carrots and burn the rabbits! I mean eat the carrots and snare the rabbits! I am a rabbit! H00t! This is more than I bargained for. Snap crackle pop with binders of baked pineapple left in the sand by Captain America's intimate friend of a whale, the Loose Caboose. She was a hefty figure, weighing in at a quarter past a 12oz hamburger patty. And to say I'm hungry for grass isn't the 1/3 of it. Boxed in like Donkey Kong, I decided to gnaw on the rope hoping the tantalizing and seductive female moose could ram a hole in the side. But I digress into the unknown as I really don't know what I'm saying. Candyloo and sugarpoo postpone better than any rain delay, and my two left feet have got me going to the right. Let us not forget the fakt that this is not the beginning! For go the pleasure of rubbing sand on my bum and I'll give you a cookie!
And when I awoke there was a bent, odd shape picking my nose. No boogers I thought, and I figured the shape was hungry. And once I rolled over into a crab-like position, he was oddly attached to the side of my head like a tumor of Rome proportions. This is not the test I was looking for, broken as I thought the process might be. Significant in the fact that the closed door spoke as if I was th key in which all trees would be freed if I only took to using plastik on the turn on my birthday and chose to walk backwards through said doggy door. Muffins and cold cow's juice, this was starting to turn in to a yellow submarine episode complete with singing, dancing midgets. So on the merry-go-round where I lost all sense of gravity I came up with the thought ...
*knights pretz, but accidently cuts off the tip of his ear*
So this is how big heads begin and ghetto booties begin. Hark! This elbow is not the softest noodle to bake! Let us pray the monkies are in dire need of snorkle equipment. Ah, the avalanche left me pantless and needing a medic. So the line on the paper said water leaks through my elephant ears of nostalgic history. Letters written on the hides of gorillaz is the only fictional way to analyze the knighting of our Twisted Prince Pretzely Wetzely. Mine fingers have tested better keyboards than this! Call forth the carrots and burn the rabbits! I mean eat the carrots and snare the rabbits! I am a rabbit! H00t! This is more than I bargained for. Snap crackle pop with binders of baked pineapple left in the sand by Captain America's intimate friend of a whale, the Loose Caboose. She was a hefty figure, weighing in at a quarter past a 12oz hamburger patty. And to say I'm hungry for grass isn't the 1/3 of it. Boxed in like Donkey Kong, I decided to gnaw on the rope hoping the tantalizing and seductive female moose could ram a hole in the side. But I digress into the unknown as I really don't know what I'm saying. Candyloo and sugarpoo postpone better than any rain delay, and my two left feet have got me going to the right. Let us not forget the fakt that this is not the beginning! For go the pleasure of rubbing sand on my bum and I'll give you a cookie!
And when I awoke there was a bent, odd shape picking my nose. No boogers I thought, and I figured the shape was hungry. And once I rolled over into a crab-like position, he was oddly attached to the side of my head like a tumor of Rome proportions. This is not the test I was looking for, broken as I thought the process might be. Significant in the fact that the closed door spoke as if I was th key in which all trees would be freed if I only took to using plastik on the turn on my birthday and chose to walk backwards through said doggy door. Muffins and cold cow's juice, this was starting to turn in to a yellow submarine episode complete with singing, dancing midgets. So on the merry-go-round where I lost all sense of gravity I came up with the thought ...
P
plastik
Guest
(( My rebuttle to the Twisted One in full ))
Good jestas in a holy unmatrimonial courtship! Yes the pickled juice is suppose to be cold! How many cucumbers must sacrifice their superbly smooth skin for such a salty death? In other words I love fruit. So naturally I licked my elbow and kept sleeping. And then when I woke and clicked on the "e" I was left in a crowded room with numbers and digits staring at me like I was out of place. Man, I've got to stop sleeping in the cow fields at night. The odor is not becoming of a homo
Sapien.
So yesterday, Pretz left his drawer open. Immediatly I though YAHTZEE and went digging. Through powder wigs and amfartphetamines I found his salt. Then I absolutely knew he was pickling the cucumbers. So my paperclip was typing on my bum the other day saying that my fingers aren't as good as chicken legs once tasted. Upon examining the reference I came across southern fried goodness in the bottom of Spec's pool that once reigned supreme in the absence of wicker baskets. Not like a loaf of bread, but like a loaf in sense of a big, dumb, idiot. Paraphrasing is tough once the midgets get their way. I mean how can you paraphrase something that short! It's like asking Pretz to untangle himself when he's convinced that he's not really twisted. And then you have to deal with the legalities of cleaning up the cheese if it's been double-dipped. So all in all you have two cows, licking their own bums, contemplating the fate of the midgets, and all you can do is wonder if the cheese was feta or cheddar. And Monterey Jack hasn't even been brought into the equation yet.
Right after my left turn for the worse got off on the right foot I found myself left of the right circumstance. But center of the two hormonal cows, now licking my bum. And it felt like I was beginning to wake when I snookered the left cow and cacawed the right cow causing mass confusion inside a herd that I heard was anti-milking. And if that wasn't enough, Monkeh was now walking and no longer swinging from the trees! Ah, the blasphemy. Crimptons and snuggletucks, the blanket of snow was warming. As the worms digested my grass, I was left thinking of a time when the freaking squirrels looked upon me as a brother in arms. Not only in collecting nuts, but in being a nut too. You can't really comprehend climbing trees all day until you actually reach your first birdfeeder. Then the truth becomes apparent beneath a hidden world of storage bins and crusty flying squirrels always cheating when they have to. Flying squirrels aren't really squirrels, just rats with a lot of extraneous fur and skin. And their bone structure suggests that they don't get enough calcium. Such is the job of a cow, draining themselves of all things holy ... milk. And let us not forget their deaths to feed the many who enjoy steaks on a regular basis. I'm am one of these, but they don't know that. I usually just point at the squirrels and bury myself in the trunk of the closest elephant. And that causes it's own problems.
Good jestas in a holy unmatrimonial courtship! Yes the pickled juice is suppose to be cold! How many cucumbers must sacrifice their superbly smooth skin for such a salty death? In other words I love fruit. So naturally I licked my elbow and kept sleeping. And then when I woke and clicked on the "e" I was left in a crowded room with numbers and digits staring at me like I was out of place. Man, I've got to stop sleeping in the cow fields at night. The odor is not becoming of a homo
Sapien.
So yesterday, Pretz left his drawer open. Immediatly I though YAHTZEE and went digging. Through powder wigs and amfartphetamines I found his salt. Then I absolutely knew he was pickling the cucumbers. So my paperclip was typing on my bum the other day saying that my fingers aren't as good as chicken legs once tasted. Upon examining the reference I came across southern fried goodness in the bottom of Spec's pool that once reigned supreme in the absence of wicker baskets. Not like a loaf of bread, but like a loaf in sense of a big, dumb, idiot. Paraphrasing is tough once the midgets get their way. I mean how can you paraphrase something that short! It's like asking Pretz to untangle himself when he's convinced that he's not really twisted. And then you have to deal with the legalities of cleaning up the cheese if it's been double-dipped. So all in all you have two cows, licking their own bums, contemplating the fate of the midgets, and all you can do is wonder if the cheese was feta or cheddar. And Monterey Jack hasn't even been brought into the equation yet.
Right after my left turn for the worse got off on the right foot I found myself left of the right circumstance. But center of the two hormonal cows, now licking my bum. And it felt like I was beginning to wake when I snookered the left cow and cacawed the right cow causing mass confusion inside a herd that I heard was anti-milking. And if that wasn't enough, Monkeh was now walking and no longer swinging from the trees! Ah, the blasphemy. Crimptons and snuggletucks, the blanket of snow was warming. As the worms digested my grass, I was left thinking of a time when the freaking squirrels looked upon me as a brother in arms. Not only in collecting nuts, but in being a nut too. You can't really comprehend climbing trees all day until you actually reach your first birdfeeder. Then the truth becomes apparent beneath a hidden world of storage bins and crusty flying squirrels always cheating when they have to. Flying squirrels aren't really squirrels, just rats with a lot of extraneous fur and skin. And their bone structure suggests that they don't get enough calcium. Such is the job of a cow, draining themselves of all things holy ... milk. And let us not forget their deaths to feed the many who enjoy steaks on a regular basis. I'm am one of these, but they don't know that. I usually just point at the squirrels and bury myself in the trunk of the closest elephant. And that causes it's own problems.
H
HopetoTrust
Guest
Sorry Pretz, Plastik wins this round. Maybe next time 
.
.
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Gleeleaf
Guest
KJhskjbkfjsgbjkhyasdnfbkajdshf!
Darn! My stupid cat's walking across the key-board again! :lol: jklja
I was going to say welcome to Lunis, hope you have kjh fun in ksjh Narnia land!
Stupid cat :angry: !
Darn! My stupid cat's walking across the key-board again! :lol: jklja
I was going to say welcome to Lunis, hope you have kjh fun in ksjh Narnia land!
Stupid cat :angry: !
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B1-66ER
Guest
i wish i had a a64 3000 with 2 gigs of ddr on a pink pcb motherboard.
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B1-66ER
Guest
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B1-66ER
Guest
Hey guys. I'm going to give you guys my full report on installing Solaris 9 on my IBM ThinkPad 600E notebook. Because after all, I know how much you guys are sooo intrested in it! LOL Especially HopetoTrust! LOL. Ok fine, I'm being sarcastic, no one really cares about it. But I still wanna give you guys my report.
The Installation: Friday: March 26, 2004 @ 09:57:49am
Well, I finally got Solaris 9 x86 downloaded and burned on to three CDs. Once I booted it up, everything was fine. But it doesn't reconize my video card! So right now, I'm online trying to find a driver for my Neomagic MagicMedia 256ZX. Errr!! Everytime I try a different video card it locks up on me... This is bad...
The Installation: Friday: March 26, 2004 @ 09:57:49am
Well, I finally got Solaris 9 x86 downloaded and burned on to three CDs. Once I booted it up, everything was fine. But it doesn't reconize my video card! So right now, I'm online trying to find a driver for my Neomagic MagicMedia 256ZX. Errr!! Everytime I try a different video card it locks up on me... This is bad...
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B1-66ER
Guest
The Installation 2: Friday: March 26, 2004 @ 10:34:32am
Yay. OK. Solaris does NOT like my docking station. So I ejected it out of the station and it looks like that will help my video problem.
Yay. OK. Solaris does NOT like my docking station. So I ejected it out of the station and it looks like that will help my video problem.
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B1-66ER
Guest
The Installation 3 (The Wrap Up): Friday: March 26, 2004 @ 11:01:09am
Success!! I am finally now in the installation mode through CDE. Only bad thing is that it's at a crapy resolution, like 640x830 I think. Ok, that about does it for the installation. I'll report back soon about other problems I have.
Success!! I am finally now in the installation mode through CDE. Only bad thing is that it's at a crapy resolution, like 640x830 I think. Ok, that about does it for the installation. I'll report back soon about other problems I have.
Y. Fish
New member
Hmm... gives me an idea...
"To D'ni" xp pack for Uru installation/gameplay story!
So, Zukeenee finds out on uruobsession.com that the XP pack is finally out! Hooray! Dad gets home and authorizes the download. So we download it! Oh, how promising that big blue screen is, how vivid our imaginations of the new ages to come! Then, after about two hours of downloading, the little bar at the bottom moved!
Yep, can't wait....
"To D'ni" xp pack for Uru installation/gameplay story!
So, Zukeenee finds out on uruobsession.com that the XP pack is finally out! Hooray! Dad gets home and authorizes the download. So we download it! Oh, how promising that big blue screen is, how vivid our imaginations of the new ages to come! Then, after about two hours of downloading, the little bar at the bottom moved!
Yep, can't wait....
Y. Fish
New member
"To D'ni" continued
Yes! We're in the city! And, uhh... well, there seems to be LESS open here than there was on line. It's so quiet. Used to be, Bevin was full of chattering explorers/avatars playing cone hockey or rounding up groups for trips to the Wall. Now there's nobody here. It's so... strange. It's like Polly and Digory in Charn, except there's caution cones all over the place.
Then we see the unimaginable.
The Heek table, once the center of activity in every neighborhood, smashed! Above the twisted fragments of carved stone, half-formed holographic images still flicker hopelessly, melancholy reminders of when they once meant something. This is too sad for words. /cry.
p. s.- this is my 42nd post!
Yes! We're in the city! And, uhh... well, there seems to be LESS open here than there was on line. It's so quiet. Used to be, Bevin was full of chattering explorers/avatars playing cone hockey or rounding up groups for trips to the Wall. Now there's nobody here. It's so... strange. It's like Polly and Digory in Charn, except there's caution cones all over the place.
Then we see the unimaginable.
The Heek table, once the center of activity in every neighborhood, smashed! Above the twisted fragments of carved stone, half-formed holographic images still flicker hopelessly, melancholy reminders of when they once meant something. This is too sad for words. /cry.
p. s.- this is my 42nd post!
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Gleeleaf
Guest
How long have you been a member anyway?!
By the way ... that was really random... :huh:
M
May Lafay
Guest
All hail 42
B
B1-66ER
Guest
Many of you might not reconize my sig, but its excerpted from the original poem by
Pablo Neruda. Sonnet 17:
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: Where “I” does not exist, nor “You”, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Pablo Neruda. Sonnet 17:
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way than this: Where “I” does not exist, nor “You”, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.