Thread: What's in your copy/paste?

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Originally Posted by twaizois

what do anyone know about the s world

Originally Posted by weakamon

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Your copy/paste is a white dot? Lol

Snape, You Ruined My Advanced Task with Your Horny Self - Dream Journals - Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

KGB Agent Tells You What The Illusion Is ! - YouTube

1z761743p298013890

Alexander Scriabin - The Solo Piano Works (Complete Recording) (2009) (Maria Lettberg)

/etc/tftpboot

My dad has taken me and the family to Manfred’s Restaurant, in San Francisco. Manfred’s is a diner-style burger joint, complete with booths and a long bar with barstools. Behind the bar is where the waitresses stand, taking orders and serving up witty remarks.
At the end of the bar, far from the door, two old guys sit and talk, and by their appearance and familiarity with each other it’s obvious they sit here every day, rain or shine. Both men are in long overcoats and have their hats sitting on the bar next to their food.
We are led to a booth somewhere near the back of the restaurant, across from the old guys. I ask if the burgers are really big, and the waitress holds up a plate with a massive burger on it. The bun is three times normal size, the meat is double-layered and heavy, and the cheese is melting out the sides, peeking out from under the lettuce and tomato. Some pickle slices are on the side.
“That is a BIG burger, “I tell her.
“You bet it is!” the two old men chime in unison.
“…but I don’t want to see even a single pickle with my burger, do you understand me?” I try to make this last point clear without sounding like an ass.
The waitress replies, “No problem!” She turns around to submit the order to the short-order cook behind her.
While my order is cooking I decide to leave my group and step outside, for air or a change of scenery I don’t know. What I see outside is so unexpected I nearly drop my jaw in amazement.
Standing in front of me, larger than life, are magic horses. I know of no other way to describe the sight before me. One horse is standing on top of another horse, perfectly balanced, and the bottom horse is walking past the restaurant, seemingly part of a travelling magic show, or possibly a new circus act on the way into town. I’m staring at this, just dumbfounded, amazed that such a feat is possible.
As the balancing act passes by, another horse appears to my right, and this animal is very tall, with legs twice as long as they should be for a horse. The element of magic is apparent in these animals, and I am reminded of when I was a kid staring up at animals bigger than me, wondering how they do what they do.
All this excitement and fanfare is passing by, and I follow a crowd of people moving in the opposite direction. I have only moved a few feet from the door and I come upon a pile of broken glass on the sidewalk, near the corner of the building. Being a helpful citizen I begin picking up the large, red glass shards. Some are larger than my hand, and all have sharp edges. Only half way through and with my hand full I pick up one more piece of glass and get a small cut, though the sting is enough to make me jerk my hand, spilling most of the glass back onto the sidewalk.
I’m disappointed in myself but the pain is real, so I head back towards the restaurant, knowing I can get cleaned up inside. By the door, next to a large potted plant, I come upon another pile of broken glass, and I find myself wondering how so much mess got there.
Inside, the restaurant is now quite crowded, packed, and I veer to my right to where I suppose the bathroom ought to be. I go up a set of three stairs and into another room filled with tables and hungry patrons, looking around for the door or hall to a bathroom but none is visible. Either the bathroom has been moved, I think, or this restaurant has no bathroom. I had intended to wash my hands after picking up glass but I guess I won’t.
I walk back into the main part of the diner and find my daughter sitting on one of the stools, a strange man sitting next to her and grinning wide. I sit down between him and her and put my arm around her, suddenly mad that my dad has left her sitting here by herself, while he and my son moved to the far end of the bar to get away from the crowd and the singing.
Off to my left and closer to the door a heavyset man is belting out an almost operatic melody, but somehow it is comical and garish. He is dressed in a blue cape, covering a white shirt and wide pants. He has a tall black hat on his head, and is sporting a large, dark mustache. I presume he is some form of Italian opera clown, and I turn my back to him and his awkward appearance.
I want to move down to the end by my dad, but suddenly I find myself on a moving bar stool, one of the most unusual experiences I’ve ever had in a restaurant. My stool is still attached to the floor, but the section of the floor below me is moving, taking me and my stool in an ovular arc around the restaurant.
The other customers in the diner find this weird also, and more than half of them leave, put off by a combination of confusion at the moving floor and the really bad singing by the fat man at the door. I don’t blame them.
After three or four spins around the room the circulating floor stops, and I come to a rest halfway down the bar from where I had been. Standing up I find myself dizzy, wobbly, and disoriented, an odd sensation for a dream. I can’t recall ever experiencing this in a dream before, and I have a brief hint at lucidity.
I walk over to my dad, still sitting at the end of the bar, and I ask him where my burger is.
“Oh, I sent that bad boy home.” He says almost gruffly, gesturing at the counter waitress. I presume he means he sent it back, and I am upset that my burger is gone. I’m hungry, and I need something to make up for the glass and orbiting stool.
“No, it’s in here.” The waitress opens up my daughter’s backpack and inside is my burger and the awesome French fries it comes with. I look around but there are no pickles, so I am satisfied.
Fast forward to the drive home; We are in my SUV, driving towards Alameda, and I’m talking to my dad casually. As we approach a freeway underpass I turn to him and say, “I love you very much, dad, but if you ever do anything like that again, I’ll kill you.” I mean this in a non-violent way, jokingly, to emphasize how I didn’t like him leaving my daughter or placing my food in her backpack, but I pause and contemplate what I just said, and I feel bad. I don’t want him to think I hate him, though I am upset, and now my mind is lost in thoughts of remorse.
I suddenly comeback to reality and find that no one is driving the SUV, and I literally ask, “Who’s driving the car?”
And then I wake up.

Ah krya på dig R_B

Edible plants

Was at the grocery store and the cashier asked me to sing some opera. I said no because I had a cold. I have one in real life.

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The Book of Threes - A Subject Reference Encyclopedia

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That was for Exotiraan on IRC yesterday xD

was given away for free to promote western

"He drew his cutlass, and with it cut open the breast of one of those poor Spanish, and pulling out his heart with his sacrilegious hands, began to bite and gnaw it with his teeth, like a ravenous wolf, saying to the rest: I will serve you all alike, if you show me not another way."

http://i1224.photobucket.com/albums/...8358683679.jpg

Operant conditioning - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

It is commonly stated that no Dark witch or wizard ever owned a rowan wand, and I cannot recall a single instance where one of my own rowan wands has gone on to do evil in the world.

Copied from pottermore

Alan Watts - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia