The Trash Heap of the TV Tropes Forum.

My second looked like that on the outside.

I kinda want to go back there and see it again before it's knocked flat, even though I know I won't be allowed in.

The City of Whitehall is apparently replacing almost all their older schools, though this is the only one I have any personal attachment to. (My family moved away from Whitehall when I was still in Kindergarten)

I don't know why I feel like rambling about news music packages from the early-mid-'90s right now.

Something is weirdly alluring about In-Sink V.1: it's (probably intentionally) very non-confrontational and bland in its sound, but I like it anyway.

That's ok, I feel like rambling about Columbus suburbs.

LISTEN TO HOW AGGRESSIVE THIS IS

They spoil their international clients so much, maybe they ask for actual variety or something

Other than "kill UPN", what was Fox's intention with buying the Chris-Craft stations anyway

a cut of Viper 2008 won't leave my head

615 you!

one of these days I'm just going to not reply and see how many times you'll multi-post.

why Magnum V.1 is for wimps

RASSLIN◊

I never liked that logo.

It looked like I was gonna cut myself on it.

(And that was before I loved blood, you see)

edited 24th May '11 1:46:22 AM by CentralAvenue

What color blood would you have as a troll

I don't know. I never really thought about it.

What do the different colors of blood signify?

The "hemospectrum" is their hierarchy. The lowest color is red, the highest is purple.

That never made sense to me, for some reason.

Also those who have cool-colored blood seem more predisposed to violence and sociopathic tendencies.

The pony fandom needs to get to the point where there is a pony version of create.swf

Well fuck you too, Norman.

Okay, he wasn't using hipster in its modern sense.

Wow, a never-before-seen picture of Thomas Pynchon. OK, it's just his arm, but still. (The lady in front is a friend, and the pig pinata is named Claude)

edited 24th May '11 7:40:11 AM by ImipolexG

Maybe the arm is a prosthetic, and the woman is the true identity of the writer you know as Thomas Pynchon.

Or the pig is.

Or none of them are, and the Thomas Pynchon was inside you all along.

The pig? Ha ha ha, that's almost fucked up enough to be true.

We all have a Thomas Pynchon inside us. As Raocow says about our inner Hitler, we must acknowledge him frequently, so that he doesn't get out.

I make it a point to acknowledge my inner Pynchon every day. As well as my inner Frank Zappa, my inner Russ Meyer, and my inner Teen Girl Squad.