2021.03.19 18:10 deckard222 Brigita Maldutyte
2021.01.24 13:54 deckard222 DashaKhlystun
2018.06.28 06:31 JaySaladJay Jaden Gang official HQ
2024.06.02 08:27 MissKittyCiao Cloudia in Roblox
My Clownsona as she appears in Royale High on Roblox. submitted by MissKittyCiao to clowns [link] [comments] |
2024.06.02 04:52 Distinct-Fun-3126 April and May empties
submitted by Distinct-Fun-3126 to bathandbodyworks [link] [comments] |
2024.06.02 02:28 savannahkellen Season 3 Spoiler Round-Up
2024.06.02 02:05 Polliewonka Trying to find more Dutch/belgium punk bands
2024.06.02 02:01 FGLezvelda [partially lost] Mau En El Pais De Las Maravillas (In Wonderland), a lost animation from Onix Girls Rule
2024.06.02 01:53 emma_jane5678 Consignment Shops/Selling Women’s Clothing
2024.06.02 01:06 LondonTheatreOne What thoughts on Calamity Jane the Musical starring Carrie Hope Fletcher?
What thoughts on Calamity Jane the Musical starring Carrie Hope Fletcher that is due to tour the UK later in 2024 through to 2025? submitted by LondonTheatreOne to wildwest [link] [comments] Early Life and Background Calamity Jane, born Martha Jane Cannary in 1852 in Princeton, Missouri, was an iconic figure of the American Old West. She was the eldest of six children born to Robert and Charlotte Cannary. Her father, Robert, was a farmer who moved the family to Montana during the gold rush of 1865. Jane's mother, Charlotte, died the following year, and her father passed away shortly after, leaving Jane to care for her younger siblings. Known for her tough demeanor and exceptional skills with horses and firearms, she broke many of the gender norms of her time. Following the deaths of her parents, she moved to Wyoming and worked various jobs typically reserved for men, including as a mule skinner and railroad worker. Her adventurous spirit and rugged lifestyle earned her a reputation as a formidable frontierswoman. Cabinet photograph captioned in the negative, Calamity Jane, Gen. Crook's Scout. An early view of Calamity Jane wearing buckskins, with an ivory-gripped Colt Single Action Army revolver tucked in her hand-tooled holster, holding a Sharps rifle. Credit Wikipedia. Military and Expedition Involvement Jane claimed to have served as a scout for the U.S. Army, participating in several military campaigns, although these claims are disputed. Her presence at Fort Laramie and involvement in the Newton-Jenney Party's exploration of the Black Hills in 1875 are well-documented. She was known for dressing in men's clothes and performing tasks alongside male soldiers, further cementing her legendary status. Life in Deadwood and Relationship with Wild Bill Hickok Calamity Jane is perhaps most famously associated with the town of Deadwood, South Dakota, Calamity Jane: A Legendary Frontier Woman where she became a local legend during the Black Hills Gold Rush. It was here that she formed a close, albeit possibly embellished, relationship with Wild Bill Hickok. After Hickok's murder in 1876, Jane claimed they had been married and had a child together, though historians largely dismiss these claims as fabrications. Later Years and Legacy In her later years, Jane capitalized on her fame by appearing in Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show and other exhibitions. She published an autobiographical pamphlet in 1896, though much of it is considered exaggerated. Jane's final years were marked by continued hardship and bouts of heavy drinking. She died in 1903 in Terry, South Dakota, and was buried in Deadwood's Mount Moriah Cemetery next to Wild Bill Hickok. Films The Plainsman is a 1936 film starring Gary Cooper as Bill Hickok and Jean Arthur as Jane. In Young Bill Hickok with Roy Rogers (1940), she was played by Sally Payne. She was played by Marin Sais in the 1940 serial Deadwood Dick, by Frances Farmer in the 1941 Western The Badlands of Dakota, and by Jane Russell in the 1948 Bob Hope comedy The Paleface. In 1949's Calamity Jane and Sam Bass, Jane was played by Yvonne De Carlo and Sam Bass by Howard Duff; both characters were heavily fictionalized. Calamity Jane is a 1953 musical-Western film from Warner Bros. starring Doris Day and Howard Keel as Wild Bill Hickok. The plot of the film is almost entirely fictional and bears little resemblance to the actual lives of the protagonists. It won the Best Song Oscar for "Secret Love", by Sammy Fain and Paul Francis Webster. The legacy of Calamity Jane continues to captivate audiences, including through theatrical adaptations. The UK and Ireland tour of 'Calamity Jane,' starring Carrie Hope Fletcher, brings this legendary figure to life on stage. The production offers a musical interpretation of Jane's adventures and persona, celebrating her enduring spirit. For more details on the tour, visit the official announcement on London Theatre 1. UK & Ireland Tour of Calamity Jane Starring Carrie Hope Fletcher. Carrie Hope Fletcher as Calamity Jane. |
2024.06.02 00:23 FeatherDreams First and Probably only SAS Haul! The Candle was calling my name! Literally.
*Solar Sun Body Wash I got with one of my rewards. submitted by FeatherDreams to bathandbodyworks [link] [comments] |
2024.06.01 22:45 Afraid_Sugar3811 I don’t know who needs to hear this but….
2024.06.01 22:18 StupidGuy911 Concourse 6- [2,00 words] (Critique request)
2024.06.01 20:21 Pizzaboobsandblunts White girl dread extension major fail… shave or save??
2024.06.01 20:19 Pizzaboobsandblunts Am I going to have to shave my head??? White girl dress extension FAIL
2024.06.01 20:18 Pizzaboobsandblunts Dread extension nightmare- do I need to shave my entire head!?
2024.06.01 18:57 mangeface My girlfriend is amazing. I’m stuck at work so she went to the LEGO Store and stood in line to get it for me.
submitted by mangeface to legostarwars [link] [comments]
2024.06.01 18:57 DiscoMeep Dinner places near the ciudad de las artes y las ciencias
2024.06.01 15:30 Popular_Driver5089 Montrer mes limites sans en faire trop ?
2024.06.01 13:38 Acquaintance9 THE LAST Fake Eurovision Award Nominations - Cringiest Performance
2024.06.01 13:12 Motormommy Has anyone looked at the div class differences on dmaorg site? Reordering the 25 Clancy posts - the last post could be Nico- 024 02MOON 25
I noticed something on the dmaorg site- that the posts each have different formatting according to 5 "div class" sections. The formatting really isn't that different in each class and it doesn't seem to be connected to the various file types that are posts. (this was examined using a lot of help from the dmaorg fan wiki which already had the letters typed and I copied and pasted them.) submitted by Motormommy to twentyonepilots [link] [comments] We know it's a cycle, it has happened again and again. What if the moon dates don't order as our actual dates do? There were 5 timeframes for the posts- the ones that were already there when the site was found or shortly after, the ones that were posted just before/during the trench era, the ones that were posted after the files were terminated and the site was restored (during scaled and icy) and the ones that were posted ahead of Clancy. If we reorder the 25 Clancy posts by their div classes (putting class 1 first, then 2, etc.), it puts the yellow stripe picture right before the letter it decodes. We also get the 024 02MOON 25 last. And I just realized that this letter is not signed. What if it's a bishop describing recruiting banditos? What if a bishop is realizing he's not so different from them? That he once believed he was a citizen, an escapee, an exception? Is he following the torches to find the banditos? Spreadsheet I used to organize the posts Clancy Posts when Ordered by _Divclass CLASS 1: 017 07 MOON 16 Cheetah running gif 018 07MOON 08 _note.gif written signed I’ve made it out. I feel weightless. I know that place had always held me down, but for the first time, I can feel the levity that I had hoped for. It’s been three nights now, and my breathing has changed. It’s slower, and more full. It’s like the air out here is worth taking in. I can see it back in the distance, and I’d be lying if I said that it wasn’t constantly on my mind. I wish I could turn that fear off, but maybe the further I go, the less that fear will affect me. I feel betrayed by what I assumed was home - if I ever end up back there, I won’t be able to look at it the same way. They are asleep. They’re so sure that they know the truth, and carry on throughout their day with the same meaningless tasks. They’ve forgotten to look up, and to look outward, to understand that this isn’t about ‘in there.' This is about ‘out here.’ This new world surrounds me. I used to think the walls back home were massive – these green cliffs engulf me, and place me right in the middle – Trench is quite precarious at times, and it’s easy to grow weary. But it’s real, and it’s true, and I’d much rather endure reality than to mindlessly be obedient to a life that someone else created for me. I’ve obsessed about this world for so long, that it feels more like home than anything I’ve experienced. Somehow, in this vast openness, I feel more protected than ever. The landscape feels endless, and I’ve found myself walking for hours without any true evidence of getting further down. But I’ve seen plants and colors out here that I’m not sure I’ve witnessed before. There’s a beauty in the strangest places, and the curiosity of what’s next continues to motivate me. I wonder who else is out here. If what I assumed inside is true, there’s got to be more like me. Sometimes I’ll feel a presence, or think I see something in my periphery, only to look up and see nothing. It’s just another thing that I’m afraid of that also excites me. It all just confirms all of the things that I hoped to be true for all of this time. I am out here and I am very alive. I’m sometimes scared, but always discovering something new, and I will not stop. Cover me!
17-35.4527.jpg typed signed I can’t face this page for long enough to write what I’m truly feeling. I am only wrought with more questions about what I assumed to be true, questions about what my own path is, and the question that has plagued me every night that I lie here, back in city: Did I give up? The force I saw between him and his bishop seemed tense to me, and frightening. But the memory of that exchange has had time to fester and replay in my mind long enough that I’m questioning if I even remembered it correctly. I assumed the bishop was forcefully retrieving his subject, but now I wonder if the bishop was actually trying to save him, and he refused. I stayed out there for five days after I watched it happen. I haven’t seen him since. Maybe he got away, and was still out in Trench with me. Maybe the bishop chased him down, and brought him home. Home? Did I just call this place home? After all of the endless beauty that I saw out there, am I now convincing myself that I’m actually better off within these confines? I admit, it was more difficult than I expected. Nothing could have prepared me for how much the ‘unknown’ can consume me. Vast landscapes and endless possibilities, yet coupled with endless danger. I became anxious. I became tired. I became hungry. Every step I took became harder than the last, jumping from jagged rocky step to step, or pulling myself through thick forest - it all became debilitating, and I was sure that I couldn’t go on. Keons approached as the sun rose one morning. I wasn’t scared. I was relieved. After all that he had taught me, his presence was the most comforting moment that I had in days, and I couldn’t help but be happy to see him. In true Keons fashion, he wrapped his arms around me, then put his hands under my face, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Clancy, child, let’s go home.” I’ve been here for a few weeks now, and while the routines of this world are comforting, and certainly easier than life out there, my mind keeps bouncing between the two places. Which one is home? Are the bishops protecting us, and the torches upon the hilltops dangerous? Or is it the other way around? My dreams pull me from world to world, and I feel lost in between all of it. There is still so much I do not understand.
Larger map of trench including voldsoy 024 02MOON 09 __ev-i-D__ence.jpeg typed and says signed but isn’t I'm not as scared as I used to be. Their mystery begins to fade as a method to defeat them becomes more clear. I no longer feel powerless. I can outsmart them. This new power of psychokinesis worked, and I believe it can work again. I stand here, looking down at the line where the water meets the sand - a starting line. All the while, knowing there is a finish line across the Strait. Their compass lies, but mine remains true. I've left embers of inspiration, I only hope whatever spark was left has grown to a torch, and together we create an inferno [SIGNED] - Clancy CLASS 2: 988 06MOON 18 cla_ncy-98806MOON_18_-1 jpg typed signed CLANCY_S JOURNAL The perplexities of the Dema horizon didn't occur to me until my ninth year. It was then that I began to contemplate the existential, and decide what type of impression I wanted my life to make. Naturally, to fuel my hope, I looked out upon the distance of the land that had cultivated me, only this time with a new awareness of the obstruction that my youthful ignorance had allowed me to overlook. Was it there the whole time? How had I not seen something so obvious? I am reminded of the moment daily, as the idealization directly collides with a unique hope for my own future. As a child, I looked upon Dema with wonder, today, I am wrought with frustration, as I spend each day squinting for a glimpse of the top of the looming wall that has kept us here. It was upon my ninth year that I learned that Dema wasn’t my home. This village, after all of this time, was my trap. Before I became realized, I had deep affection for Dema. There was a wonderful structure to the city that put my cares to rest. Streets and locations were dependable, and the responsibilities of the day seemed to be accomplished with minimal effort. Once a task was taught and understood, we delighted in our ability to complete our obligations timely, and felt secure in knowing tomorrow’s duties would be accomplished with the same efficiency. We all worked to represent our bishop with honor, and knew that each inhabitant of our region had a like-minded dedication to consistency. Keons embodied the spirit of this dedication. Of Dema’s nine bishops, Keons was revered as unwavering and forthright, possessing the ability to achieve focus that was rare for most on our region. We all admired him, and felt honored to be inhabitants his region. While we had heard legend of the ruthlessness of other bishops, Keons possessed a stoic demeanor unlike anyone I had ever met, and we were all proud to serve.
ba_dge jpg FPE citation 017 07MOON 17 Picture - trench - bandits 018 07 MOON 05 This entry is another letter from Clancy. The white squares on the outer edges of the image correspond to the letters "WAKE UP". It is titled _he_a_vy_.jpg typed, inverted, signed They’re asleep. The night took forever to arrive, and now we’re almost ready. We’ve studied the watchers and know that there’s no chance that we can step through unnoticed. So, instead of trying to hide ourselves, we’ll make sure that all of us are noticed. It’s been one year since the last convocation, and tomorrow’s Annual Assemblage of Glorified will be the biggest spectacle this concrete coffin of a city has seen all year. If we time it right, we’ll divert the attention of the watchers and finally take the step though. We’ve had no contact, but we’re hoping the other side will be able to find a way in. We’re not sure of the breach location, but we are willing to risk being smeared in order to find it. We know that we must go lower, and wait for the torches. They’ve never seen anything quite like this, and by morning, everything will be different. I’m terrified and excited, all at the same time. They don’t control us.
1619250308151109140519-Ø-919.jpg made me a weapon written, signed What is this thing? This device? This gift? Some sort of neurological connection or expansion. Psychokinetic weapon? This is absurd. Why was this given to me? Why am I the only one that can weild it? Was this the reason that I survived? My mind is racing as I wait here on the rocks - staring off into the darkness. Waiting for our torches to be mirrored - the signal he told me to wait for. It feels oddly familiar. Not the spikes in my hand, but the power it harnesses, I've felt it before. Is this also the source of those rumors I heard in the dark corners of the city? Legends and stories that I assumed were myth, inspired by children's nightmares - tales of what the bishops would use the bodies for. Those "honorable" citizens who acheived The Glorious Gone - referred to as available vessels. It all begins to make sense. The episodes I would have: the blood red vision, my dreams of flying, the out of body account of the rider in the river, the decaying hosts of the television show, the robed figures that commanded the doomed ship... Had we all been "seized" by the bishops using this same technique? Is this where their power comes from? Are they immortal, or just feeding off the next body, giving their hosts a brief second-life? I am in my original life, why am I available to this control? This whole time I thought I was battling my inner self. Was I actually under assault for something else? someONE else? This small eerie island has made me a weapon. We both believe that we can use it to change the momentum of this war. Now, we must return to the mainland where they should be there to recieve is. We will destroy and rebuild. Though it's been years since he last spoke with them, I hope they have not lost faith in The Torchbearers plan. But how could any of this have been planned?
009 12MOON 29 unnamed-(1).jpg d_e_ath__eat_erz Vultures on wall 011 07MOON 08 se__elf picture of kid 017 07MOON 07 017_07MOON_07 typed signed To refer to Dema as m[y] home has never felt accurate. Dema, t[o] me, has simply been the place that I’ve existed, or, the ‘slot’ they’ve put me in. I’ve heard stories abo[u]t the ide[a] of “home,” and its depiction has always seemed warm f[r]om the storyt[e]llers’s de[s]cription. [T]here was a romant[i]c ownership of the p[l]ace they inhabited that I admired, but cou[l]d never relate to. Thi[s] place, my p[l]ace, however, s[e]ems devoid of the romance and wond[e]r that the old stories tell. But somewhere between the iron order and infallible [p]recis[i]on of Dema, a hum of wo[n]der exists. It’s this quiet wonder that my mind tends to [g]ets lost in. This hope of discovery alone has birthed a new version of myself; A better version, I hope, that will find a way to experience what’s beyond these colossal walls.
I.jpg vulture gif turning head (actual dates?) 018 07MOON 06 _they_ca_ntseeFCE300.gif torch gif 022 03MOON 17 is-ø-lat-ed.jpg written, signed I haven’t had the ability to write for what seems like a lifetime. This deprivation is what weighed on me the most. Not the lack of food, or the change of scenery - they wouldn’t let me write anything down. Well, at least not without them present … I remember that day vividly. First, they let me out. Even though the hallway was still gray and drab, the new experience was a shock to my system - significantly different than usual captivity. I tried to match the rhythm of the nameless guard’s footsteps as we echoed down the long corridor. I followed close behind, as if I had no choice. Cold concrete encapsulated us and seemed to cast a spill of synthetic calmness. Obedience. We arrived at a blue door. It was an odd contrast to this concrete maze. As I went through the doorway, I found myself in another typical gray Dema room. The only difference was who was waiting for me. Four of them. Three of them were unknown to me, but one was clearly Keons. I knew his voice They proposed an idea. A television show - or whatever it was. I had no idea that I was known outside of my cell, but they informed me that I had garnered notoriety for my schemes and outbursts. They wanted to use my face for the benefit of the city. They handed me a pen - a familiar instrument. Yet, they must be present when I use it. They wanted to manage my imagination and vision. Although shackled, at least I could create again. Thus began the sessions. Everyday my cell door would open. I followed the guard down the familiar hall, through the blue door, to sit down at the desk and chair. My designated creative space - perfectly centered under their watchful eye. Sometimes three, sometimes eight - not once were all nine present. He was never there. I would have felt it if he was. At the end of the session, Keons would take my pen, gather my writings, and send me back. This went on for months. What were we creating? I wasn’t sure. A variety show with songs and set pieces? Were the rulers of this stifled city actually attempting entertainment for its people? Everything I created had to be “for the benefit of the citizens of Dema” a phrase I heard often. I didn’t question them - I was happy to be out of my cell - and putting words to paper. On the final day, I wrote the last line, I was asked to name it? The question caught me off guard. This seemed like a decision they would make. Show Day: They dressed me up and asked me to smile a poor attempt at hiding my sleep deprivation. It was all so colorful, as if compensating for the grayness of the city. It was a blur. Before I knew it, it was over, and I was back in my cell. I can only remember fragments - only blurred hallucinations of color and chaos - like a dream. The confusion of it all hangs overhead. What was it all for? … but it wasn’t over I guess it went well enough for them to request more of me. I was useful to Dema, and my creativity was exploited in new forms - They wanted me to be the entertainment at the Annual Assemblage of the Glorified - a performance at sea for the premiere citizens of Dema. I knew those weren’t the real bishops on that ship. I’ll quicken the entry - I need to keep up with the Torchbearer. During the performance, we were attacked by something in the water. I don’t know what possessed the creature to attack, but it was odd, and felt incredibly intentional. Many lost their lives in the attack, and I was thrashed through the bitter cold waves, yet somehow survived. Did this icy cold preserve me? Why was I spared? I am still so cold as I write. This place feels foreign - nothing like Trench. From the frigid sea, the air here is somehow colder than the water that surrounds it. I have a strange feeling that this island will provide answers. I must go.
__cla_im00FFFF letter, typed not signed I found a way in. A way they'll never suspect, and a way they'll never understand. Everything about our cause is so hard for them to understand, but so close to the hearts of the glowing resistance. I can reach them all. I can recruit everyone with eyes that see beyond the horizon. I can teach them. They can learn what I've learned, and fly by all of the constructs Dema has placed in front of them. We will take it back. CLASS 4: 017 02MOON 12 _ .jpg picture of yellow lines to mark “we are banditos” in next letter and numbers that spell trench 018 07MOON 01 e_sr_eve_r.jpg typed/ lines taped together signed A lifeless light surrounds us each night. Never could I imagine that something so luminous could feel so dark. It’s this glow that reminds us of the dreamless existence we’ve been sentenced to. But what I call a sentence, others accept as normalcy. How did they so efficiently eradicate the dreams within us? When the bishops instituted Vialism as mandate, they effectively reversed the hope that many arrived with. Am I the only one who realizes that we’ve been lied to? Am I the only one not afraid of the notion that the nine have hijacked our trust, and extinguished the hope that once motivated our existence? We used to close our eyes and picture a better life, now this city is full of dry eyes caught in a trance of obedience, devoid of any trace of an identity. The only significant light I’ve seen has been in the eyes of those smeared - such a curious sight, to see bright eyes strangled by the darkness of bishop hands. As their penance fades, so dims their memory of something more. My hope of something more is all I have in this rigid tomb, and I will not let it die.
2_1_2.gif inverse jumpsuit pic that matches shape of letter from 018 07moon08 022 03MOON 18 W-eap-@on.jpg image of psychokinesis / seize Keons CLASS 5: 013 01MOON 08 _ti_su_p map of dema compass missing _ti_su_p.png sev_ering__tiez 3 blanks 018 07MOON 05 _o__ut_.gif landscape 018 07MOON 18 Unalone.gif letter written and signed I can’t believe what I just saw. I'm still trying to understand. This whole time I was sure I was all alone - a single soul in this vast unknown world. But a few days into this trek, I looked down to see a figure headed the same way I was. I’ve tucked myself in these caves and crevices, trying my best to keep hidden, but he was out in the open, making his exhausted journey right down the middle of Trench. I was curious enough to follow alongside the path with him. He seemed unaffected by the fear of the unknown - the fear that tends to cripple me. To him, the terrain seemed familiar, as if he had been out here before. While lost in my curiosity, they appeared. I had heard about them back in Dema, but to my knowledge, the stories were merely myth. Ten, twenty, and then what seemed to be a hundred Banditos appeared upon the cliff, all looking down at him. He only stopped for a moment to look back up at them, and then continued on his way. His energy changed, and I wasn’t sure if he was frightened or encouraged by their ominous presence. They warned him of what was about to come. It was a blur. First seeing the figure, then the Banditos, only to now have my eyes opened to the oncoming Bishop upon a white horse drawing closer in the distance. The figure halted, and waited. When the Bishop stopped, I was sure he looked up, directly at me, so I hid deeper back in a cave. The presence of the robed rider seemed to paralyze the man. He stood still as he was approached, powerless as the outstretched hands smeared his neck. I had never seen a Bishop possess power like this. Keons had always seemed gentle and warm - this Bishop, at least out here, seemed like something else. So I ran, and I’ve been running for as long as my legs and lungs can handle. Maybe this note will be my proof that what I witnessed was not a dream. A million questions race through my brain. Am I not the only one traveling through Trench? I’ll travel a little further, and maybe I’ll get a moment of rest tonight. I may have made a mistake, leaving. This spot, between two places, is beginning to feel like an endless and hopeless abyss. At least Dema is a place that I know, and at times like this, I miss a lot about what I know. This will all be much tougher than I imagined. Nothing out here is familiar. I’ve witnessed the presence of others for the first time today, and I feel more alone than ever. Cover me.
_maniac_Clay typed letter, not signed These campfires feel like home, as I stare deeply into them, finding more and more clarity. They tried to tell us we were different. But the flame that burns inside of me is the same fire I've found on the hilltops of Trench. The Banditos have lived their rebellion, and a resistance is growing inside the concrete walls - one powerful enough to burn out all of the stale teachings, and usher in true hope and a path to actual life. We march in the morning. The revolution shall arrive with the sun. |
2024.06.01 10:45 Ready-Bat-8824 May 2024 Hilaria Baldwin’s IG Recap = 5 Posts or “The Baby Also Has Sewer Slippers?!?”
~Hillary & Alec’s IG Stats~ submitted by Ready-Bat-8824 to HilariaBaldwin [link] [comments]
Alec: Well, in my family now, I'm the only person I know who drops four kids off at school in the morning and comes home and I still have three kids waiting for me. When I get home, I have seven - I have eight children. Ireland, my oldest daughter who's married, Ireland has a baby, and she and her boyfriend are living in Oregon. And I met my wife and I got remarried and I had seven kids in nine years. It's crazy. (I think you meant to say, “my wife is batshit crazy.” The devil is in the details, Zander) And then, all of a sudden, I met my wife, who I love dearly, (I think he repeats this in virtually every interview to counter the years of talking shit about Kim Basinger) every time the baby would get to be two years old, we’d go, maybe it's time for one more baby, one more baby, so we have seven kids. But we're actually selling our house, moving to Vermont. We bought a place in Vermont, and I'm trying to get everybody to start to acclimate up there…I think my wife wants a little change of scenery now, it's so crowded out here…I love Vermont. It's so peaceful. We got a great deal. We got fifty-five acres; house was built in 1792. It's very pretty. The Kids Want Alec Around All the Time Host: What do you do away from your family? Meaning, do you play golf? Do you play tennis? Alec: I play tennis all summer...The thing that's happened in these last ten years, especially the last three or four years, is my kids are used to me being around…I mean they really rely on that… when I'm gone, they're like, you know, they're on FaceTime. If I travel to go away for a couple of days to get a paycheck, they’re on my FaceTime going you know, where are you? What are you doing? You know, they're completely baffled when I go away. (God bless those kiddos and I’m preeetttttty sure they rely on Leonela/Leonetta a whole lot.) Drug & Alcohol Use Alec: Every day for two years, I think I snorted a line of cocaine from here to Saturn. We did one on the rings of Saturn. Then we came home. We took it back home. I mean, cocaine was like coffee back and everybody was doing it all day. I did a lot of coke and then I and then February 23rd, 1985…I stopped doing drugs and my drinking increased, which is they tell you that's going to happen, and that did happen. I just started drinking. I mean, and the thing, I miss drinking. I don't miss drugs at all, but I do miss drinking. I like to drink. (I appreciate next to nothing about this man, but I appreciate the honesty of this statement). Host: But because you don't drink, and because you don't do drugs, what do you do? Do you meditate? What do you do to deal with the pressures of the outside, you know, forces, (I think you mean “lawsuits”, Paul) what do you do to get away from that? Alec: (deadpan) Drink. I drink. I lied; I've been drinking nonstop since 1985. I lie. I tell people I'm sober and I drink my balls off. (Laughs) But no, I do miss drinking, I must say…New York relaxes me. I walk around and I see aspects of it that I've never seen before. I look at a building and I'll go, my god, I never noticed that about that building. Those doors. You know. New York is like a European city. You walk around and keep your eyes open. And I have lunches and coffee with my friends. (Um is he talking about the owner of Madman Espresso? Because that’s the only coffee related person we’ve ever seen him around.) And, I'd like to get out of here because the city is chaotic. (But also relaxing? What the hell?) But we live in the village. It's a little bit more residential. I love New York. I go to the symphony and the opera and the ballet all the time, you know, pretty regularly. But I do try to meditate. Meditating with seven children is like trying to play ping pong on the deck of an aircraft carrier. It's a real pain in the ass. (But they rely on you, Alec?!?!)
MichWho was also there - if only Hillary's mallet could tap some life into the frozen tundra of Mich's mask/face.
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2024.06.01 08:43 serendraig_7 Australian folk **SALES** I'm a mad bargain hunter & I feel rude not sharing these - Amazon, Target, Toys R Us for move Barbie & Ken, Skipper & fashionistas + rebodying extra minis for Chelsea & miraculous ladybug for Skipper/Stacie (note in comments)
submitted by serendraig_7 to Barbie [link] [comments] |
2024.06.01 08:35 TrusticTunic26 Hope Chapter 1 [Fantasy - 6000 words]
2024.06.01 05:04 twotubes Budget $6,500