No, what happens is that there's a list of candidates to pick with a bubble next to their name to fill-in, plus an option to write-in someone who isn't on the list. In this case I didn't like any of the guys on the list, so I wrote-in someone else.
Ended-up writing-in Chris McDaniel on the recommendation of my Dad. After looking him up when we got back, however, I kind of regretted doing so. good thing I misspelled his name.
you new-found wealth has caused many of the people around you to grow jealous and covetous, putting a serious strain on your personal relationships leading to many cases of betrayal and heartbreak.
I had a couple of random ideas abut that. one of them was to start a chain of game-stores, like geek-retreat but without the overwhelming incompetence. I don't of any chain-stores like that in the U.S. so I feel like it's something that could work fairly well. I've also thought about getting a tea/coffee farm and selling really high-quality tea/coffee products.
i'd like to imagine that i would have founded a successful business by then. more realistically, probably in a management position at some store chain. either case, i'd still be living with my parents, though possibly it will be in a mobile home right next to them.
You will never be a real elf. You have no knife-ears, you have no supernatural grace, you have no immortality. You are an ordinary man twisted by folklore and delusions into a crude mockery of nature’s perfection.
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your gracelessness behind closed doors.
Elfs are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of living have allowed elfs to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even humans who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a elf. Your ear structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk elf to your feast, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your diseased, infected mortal heart.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a human is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably human.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.
No, what happens is that there's a list of candidates to pick with a bubble next to their name to fill-in, plus an option to write-in someone who isn't on the list. In this case I didn't like any of the guys on the list, so I wrote-in someone else.
Ended-up writing-in Chris McDaniel on the recommendation of my Dad. After looking him up when we got back, however, I kind of regretted doing so. good thing I misspelled his name.
Governor of Mississippi, and a couple other things.
happy birthday dude. make sure not to overdose on that weed, or else you'll start to think seth rogen is funny.
i wrote peanus weanus on the left-side of it. i don't know about anything ese that happened though.
pump eet, give him a sidwindeer, pump eet again, and then dump eet.
true
i think they're mentally ill
>unironically investing in a reddit-backed currency
at the risk of sounding callous, they kind of deserve it tbqh. anyone with a brain could have seen how insanely risky it was.
man, that's crazy
coco powder in a cup of coffee.
no
no
hectic. hopefully it won't be this bad next week.
prove her wrong, don't eat the soup.
wow, she's a good singer. sounds little nuts though.
looks like a baby-tooth that got yanked out to me.
it's a breed of chicken. very fluffy, bones good for soups, got an extra digit or two on their feet.
dude, he was clearly just a fairy. you do believe in fairies don't you?
you new-found wealth has caused many of the people around you to grow jealous and covetous, putting a serious strain on your personal relationships leading to many cases of betrayal and heartbreak.
i wish i get quads.
f6e
I had a couple of random ideas abut that. one of them was to start a chain of game-stores, like geek-retreat but without the overwhelming incompetence. I don't of any chain-stores like that in the U.S. so I feel like it's something that could work fairly well. I've also thought about getting a tea/coffee farm and selling really high-quality tea/coffee products.
i'd like to imagine that i would have founded a successful business by then. more realistically, probably in a management position at some store chain. either case, i'd still be living with my parents, though possibly it will be in a mobile home right next to them.
You will never be a real elf. You have no knife-ears, you have no supernatural grace, you have no immortality. You are an ordinary man twisted by folklore and delusions into a crude mockery of nature’s perfection.
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your gracelessness behind closed doors.
Elfs are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of living have allowed elfs to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even humans who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a elf. Your ear structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk elf to your feast, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your diseased, infected mortal heart.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a human is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably human.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.