Enough people have complained that they are tired of stupid idiots viewing their web page, or some profile like on picrave then sending them a message asking their a/s/l. The reason for the frustration is obvious to those with a little common sense, if you go and read about someone, then send them a message asking these things, either you didn’t read the profile, or you are too stupid to remember what you just read. However, I have a different complaint with the a/s/l comments. I think the whole idea is just silly.
Here’s the deal for the uninformed. A/S/L means that the one who posts A/S/L wants to know the Age, Sex, and Location of those in the same chat room. How often do you go into a chat room and every 10 minutes or so someone puts this one line, 6 symbol message up: a/s/l? The really competent of those who do this will usually repeat it every 10 seconds or so just to be sure everyone can understand this person is asking this question. Not long after that, you get one liner’s back in response to the effect of 16/M/NY or 18 f tx, and about 20 or so more people putting their respective a/s/l. This is all fine and dandy, maybe once or twice in a night, but imagine this process happens and every person in the chat room post their a/s/l and then a new person comes in. Guess what this newbie will ask, but a/s/l? The whole process repeats itself over, and over and over and… you get the picture.
Curiosity can be blamed for wanting to know this information; it gives a general idea of the crowd that is in the chat room. It is used by members of one sex looking to talk to members of the opposite. (or sometimes the same!) It is used to find people that are in your area to chat with. Used sparingly, and used in an appropriate manner, this information can aid in the process of meeting someone to chat with, or to participate in the current conversation in a chat room.
What I want to know, however, is what is the damn point! People say that they use the internet because of the anonymous nature of it. Yet, they willingly divulge this information when a stranger in a chat room asks. People seem to participate in the act of giving this information out just to feel special, as if, by chance, someone is looking for that exact person to chat with and they are hoping they will find a lifelong friend or love. People think that if they reply to someone asking a/s/l it makes them cool. You know, like how people think wearing a Tommy Hillfiger (and if you think the people who make that shit give a damn about your clothes or how much of a fucking prep you look like, check the link and see what they really care about) shirt makes you cool, or like those chicks, however cute they are, wearing those headsets in the GAP. Nobody gives a rats ass if you think you are cool, and those that really are cool don’t give a shit about those that think what they wear and what they say make them cool. We cool on that?
Whether a person is from New York, or California really doesn’t matter if all you want to do is shoot the breeze. It is not necessary to judge the content of a chat room, because if you ever go to #teen, or #teenchat on any irc server there will always be kids talking about sex and drugs and what not. Even if you are 13 years old and hop into teen chat, just say “I smoked a big one today” and you’ll be everyone’s friend.Â Â
Asking a/s/l may be a way for some losers to start a conversation, only if said loser doesn’t have the intellect to ask about interests, or the like. If you were in a room full of people you didn’t know, would you go up to each one and ask their age, sex and location to initiate a conversation? Hell no, they’d throw you out like the old cheese dip on the snack table! Number one, girls get offensive when you ask their age and weight. That’s a problem in and of itself since it’s only the old fat girls who get offensive. You can obviously tell a person’s sex unless you are at one of those types of parties… and you sure as hell know their current location. In real life, a halfway competent conversation starter would say, “Hi, how are you doing?”, “Hey, do you like this music?” or “Hello, I really like your outfit”.
If the losers who get on chat lines that constantly ask a/s/l were at a party in real life it would sound something like this: “So….(blank stare) … do you come here often?”, “Uhh…do you know where the bathroom is?”, “Hey, i gotta room upstairs if you wanna go check it out…” or “I feel drunk, can you take me home?”. Come on, you know those types. The ones even at the end of the night they are still sitting with the same few people they came in with, haven’t moved from line of sight of the drink bar, and the ones every one says excuse me to as they attempt to get to the bathroom. Do these people ever get dates? Sure, they probably get some slut who doesn’t give a shit about them, but I’m talking about a real date. Someone to actually be proud of and continue an ongoing relationship with.
Going into a chat room and participating in these actions do not mean you are part of the conversation. It does not mean you are competent enough to want to talk to just because you finally figured out the abbreviation of each state. It does mean you have nothing important to talk about. It does mean you are not important enough that people are already talking to you. It means you are not intellectual enough to see what the current conversation is about and add your valuable input. It means you are the one who would be left last in the chat room if chat rooms had hours.
Well, I was riding the CityLink one day, as I always do, every day, back and forth from Downtown Ninth Street to the City Space. Not going to work, or shopping or anything, just to go because I had nothing else better to do besides spend my time with others who had nothing else better to do than to spend their time with others. Although, some people were dressed to do stuff, like go to work, and you could always tell what type of work they did by the clothes they wore; I was dressed in a pair of rugged shorts made from old jeans that were too long anyway and a shirt that came almost below my belly-button. The business men had white shirts and ties, the factory workers had clothes wet from sweat, the drivers had on casual clothes, and everyone else dressed as they pleased, or whatever pleased others.
The train was old, pen and knife carvings lined the walls and slashed the seats, pictures drawn into the fog on the windows leaving a ghost behind. There were three seats to a row on one side, and two on the other. I don’t know why the difference, maybe because you can’t sleep on only two seats. The artwork on the train was very nice, done by local people who “deface city property” but if the kids didn’t paint the train, then who would? A drab, large piece of sheet metal going through the city just doesn’t appeal to me. There were cameras on the train on each end of the cars, or at least places where cameras might go, you know, a black semi-see-through piece of glass. I guess that’s so after whoever was bored finished killing everyone, they could see who it was. I guess it may sound bad, but it’s free, if not I couldn’t afford to ride it.
I had a window seat now, since the guy that was sitting there left the train, I moved into his seat so I could now examine the city as it streaked by. And I wondered why I did so, not like anything was different from any other day, same things for the past 4 months, which is how long I’ve been riding. (Not 4 months straight, of course, every day for 4 months.) With the roads beside the tracks with cars that drove, confined by a white and yellow line, usually, I wondered why if the road was so bad, why didn’t they just take the train like me and not go through traffic and sit here in the window seat, watching other people drive by being stuck in traffic. But, then if everyone rode the train, then why would we need roads anyway, and how would people get to the train so they could look out the window at no roads?
I sat there and watched the people get on and off the train at their various stops and I wondered where it was they had to be that was so important for them to leave their homes. I choose City Space because that’s the farthestthe train goes, and Ninth Street because that’s the farthest it goes in the other direction. Not like I know what direction each is, for all I know, the train could go in a circle, and Ninth Street and City Space are only a few feet apart, seperated by a few buildings. But the ride takes forever, I guess seeing as I don’t have a watch, and the other people that ride always look at theirs every so often, so I figured it must be an important watch and if they cared to share the time with everyone, then they would do so.
I had just remembered something, it had been a long time since anyone had gotten on the train and offered everyone a breath mint. I mean, days. Man, my breath must’ve been smelling bad, good thing no one was talking to me. That’s when I noticed a lady beside me and up front a row popped a mint into her mouth, and I was fixing to ask her for one, but then I thought that if I had bad breath then she wouldn’t want to smell it, so I didn’t. I just pulled up my shirt and smiled greatly, rubbing the cleanest part of the shirt over my teeth. Then, I looked at what was on my shirt, and flicked it off.
I don’t know why I look each time I do something like that. Maybe to see how bad it was, or how good, just depends. Since this is a major tourist city, probabally the biggest market is the sale of cameras and film. You can always tell a tourist from the natives, not by the maps as most people say, but the way they look around at every few feet, whip out their camera and take a picture of practially everything, a building, a street lamp, a store front, a clump of grass, and even this raggedy thing I’m in now, inside and out. If I had a camera, the last thing I would want to take a picture of is this, I have enough sights of it to last me a few lifetimes. I’d take a picture of the people in the city since I’ve hardly ever seen the same person more than once. Some of the people I would love to see more than once, some of the ladies I wish could have a permanent seat beside me. But, that would be torture to both of us.
I’ve always wondered why so many people get on and don’t say anything, they just sit there, and stare. I still haven’t figured out what they’re staring at yet, maybe they see things I don’t. Most bring along a newspaper, or they find one already laying around and pass the time with that. I still haven’t figured out why no one just takes the newspaper with them instead of reading and leaving it there. Who says that the paper there is free for all to read anyway? What if it was mine. Yea, that would be funny, if I had a newspaper and someone picked it up to read and I said Hey buddy, that’s my paper and they would look at me and probabally wonder where I got the paper from anyway, and if I could even read. If I couldn’t read, then why would I have a newspaper? To look at the pictures? A picture tells a thousand words, so if I could just look at the pictures, then I don’t have to read the story. In fact, what’s the point of having the story, just have a newspaper with only pictures. Then, all those people who actually write something wouldn’t have anything to do, so they would have to learn to take pictures, too.
Why do I think about such things? I guess because I have nothing else to think about, or at least I can’t think of anything. I’ve realized that since I’m writing these thoughts down, I can’t merly think freely as before, I have to think about what I’m thinking. And, I guess, so do others.
George, a small 9 year old boy, was on his way to Fred’s house, one of his classmates. Fred was having a sleepover that night, and he had invited several of his friends. George was new at school, he had not had time to meet everyone, so he felt a little uneasy.
Stepping towards the house after his mom dropped him off, George saw there were no lights on inside. All was quiet. He wondered if this was the right house. As he stepped onto the front steps, he heard a creaking from inside. He stopped, and listened. He drove closer, and he heard it again. As he stepped in front of the door, and looked up, the door flew open. “Hey, Bud,” shouted Fred. “Come on in.”
Fred’s mom came towering over him to greet George and let him in. “Everyone’s been waiting for you. Glad you could make it,” exclaimed Clarice.
“Come on, everyone’s down here.” Fred ran off down the hall. George told Clarice thanks, and followed his friend.
George had seen which door Fred disappeared into, so he ventured down the hall until he approached the door. Fred had closed it behind him. Hurriedly, he opened the door only to find a black void. He could hear giggling on the floor, so he stepped in and closed the door. He took a step, only to find there was no floor. These must be steps, he thought. Carefully, he descended down the stairs. As he reached the bottom, Fred lit a candle. George could now see the glowing, red faces of 5 other kids. None of them he recognized.
“Hey, George,” mumbled the group, “Sit down.” George took a seat in the now circle of 6. They all sat around a single, black candle, not saying a word. George sat there for 10 minutes being as still and quiet as possible as to not offend the others. His eyes focused on the flame. It grew higher into the air with each breath he took. He sat there for 30 minutes staring into the flame. His eyes could see nothing else. Suddenly, someone sneezed. This woke George up from his trance. He looked around. He saw Fred peering into the darkness with a pale look on his face.
“Whats’a matter, Fred,” questioned George. Fred sat there, quietly. He did not speak. George was puzzled.
“We are alone, now.” Fred paused. “There is no one around.” George looked around, the red glare from the candle limited his sight. “If you screamed,” said Fred, “no one would listen.”
George sat there, looking strangely at his friend. He was too scared to say anything. “No one can help you now, George. We are alone, just you and me.” The candle burned out. “Take a guess where you are. You are here. Here, there is nothing. Time doesn’t even exist here. Nothing exists here, for we are not here.” George’s eyes widened. He stood up and ran towards the stairs. He quickly tripped over the first step and let out a loud scream.
“No one can hear you, George. No one is here. No one can help you, George.” George heard footsteps coming towards him. “No one can help you anymore, no one cares. No one cares. No one cares. No one cares.” The words repeated themselves over and over. He let out a loud scream, but not even he could hear it. He tried again, but nothing. Suddenly, he fell off the floor as if someone had turned the room upside down. He fell into the darkness for what seemed like forever. He tried to scream, but he still let out no sound. It would have done no good, anyway. He could see a small, dim light getting closer and closer as he fell. He fell into the flame, and it torched him in a bright flaming red, which he could see even with his eyes
“George! George,” shouted Clarice as she jogged down the stairs. She had turned the lights on in the basement. George was lying on his back with the 5 kids standing over him looking
down. They were questioning him as to what had happened. George sat up quickly and looked around. He stood up.
“What happened, son,” asked Clarice.
“I dunno,” replied Fred.
Suddenly, George looked around and ran out the door, and down the street towards home, where ever that was.
Katie saw her dad’s picture right there in the living room. It was great, it had the nice wooden frame around it and him set up there on that chair like a king on his throne. Katie never had forgotten about him. He was always in her mind, but somehow, it seemed like he never was here. It was years ago since Katie saw him last, years ago since Katie really talked to him, since Katie ever touched him. Katie remembered their bonding times together, those rumblings in the living room floor, going to the beach in the summer, even sleeping in the same bed. But, it all seemed like they were only memories of someone else, a tv show perhaps, like it never really happened.
What if it really didn’t happen? What if they were only memories? Memories of some person in her and her mom’s mind that they both share. That wasn’t possible, though. Still, the memories seemed so distant. Even though she still held onto them, it seemed like life had always been the same without him. Anyway, she finally had a picture of him for herself. Her mom helped put it up across the room from her bed in her bedroom. It looked great hanging there, especially here the sun would come in through the window and light up his face. That half grin piercing through his skin showed the kindness he had, and Katie knew that he would now be there to watch over her as he had before.
Katie wondered if he ever thought about her after he died. No one will ever know. But, what made Katie really happy was after she looked closely at his picture. She had given him a heart necklace for Christmas years ago with her picture inside. And, sure enough, in that picture hanging on the wall, he adorned the necklace around his head like a leash connecting
the two together. That’s when Katie realized that they would never forget each other.
I saw these two men dressed in black. They both had large burlap bags thrown over their shoulders and they didn’t look fat and jolly or anything. Their bags were full of stuff, I could tell. Lots of things, and I know there was jewlery in there because I could hear it rattling. I was waiting to see what they would pull out of their bags next, maybe a doll, candy, a playhouse,
a horse, or some of that jewlery. But, then I saw them put a package in the bag. I was totally confused. Why would Santa take presents away? Maybe they weren’t mine and he put them out by mistake or something. Then he put another gift in the bag, and another! I was getting scared because almost all my presents were gone. So, I got the nerve and walked into the living
room. I said, “Santa, why are you taking away all my presents? Are they not mine?”
He stopped and looked at me, a gift in his hand, and smiled. He paused for a moment and finally said, “No, these presents aren’t for you. They were delivered here by mistake.” He looked at his other friend, maybe they were elves or something. “But, we can take you to find your real presents,” he said excitedly.
Wow! I could go with the elves to find my presents! I bet they were at the north pole in some big warehouse where Santa gets all his toys. Maybe I could even meet Santa!
“Well… Yea,” I told them. “That would be cool!” At that moment, they picked me up and threw me in an empty bag. They tied it shut, and it was dark and itchy, but I could breathe. This sure was weird, I thought maybe they had a sleigh or something with reindeer but they put me in the trunk of a car along with all the other bags. We drove around for about 30 or so minutes, and we were there! The north pole! I couldn’t wait to see it.
I bet it would be all cool with white snow as far as you could see and little elves everywhere making their toys and all these buildings, and even Santa’s house in the distance. But, it turned out they had already taken me into their warehouse because when they untied the bag, and I stuck my head out, I could see thousands of bags all filled with presents and a lot of these little elves dressed in black outfits and such running around as fast as they could. They were all carrying these big toy guns, and they even tried some of them out on each other, after yelling real loudly about it, and they were real loud and sounded like the ones on tv. And, It was really funny because then the guy would start screaming and everyone would duck and he would fall to the ground clutching his chest, but I didn’t laugh because no one else laughed. It must not have been too funny.
Then I heard one of them say, “Hey! It’s the boss!” and they all turned around and looked at this guy comming. He was real big, and fat and he blew his somke out of this long pipe looking thing and he laughed real jolly like when he saw the guy on the floor. He started pointing and jumping up and down and screaming and all, it was great. Santa’s really a nice guy.
Then, Santa said “So, you boys ready for your Christmas Presents?”
And they all said, “Yea, boss! Yea!” And they started all waving their toy guns and everything. Santa looked in a nearby bag, and took out a really big present. He looked at it carefully, and said, “To Doug. This is to you, Billy.” Santa didn’t have his glasses on, so I guess he just gave the present to who he wanted to. He threw the present over to one of the elves who caught it and opened it quickly. It was a big train set!
With the engine and all the cars and track and everything, even little people. I think he really liked it. He continued through all the elves and they all had the coolest presents, I wish I had some of them.
Then, when Santa was finished, one of the elves that was at my house said, “Hey, Boss! We got YOU a present!” Santa asked what it was. “He’s right here!” And he pointed to me! Santa looked at me and blew a puff a smoke.
He put his finger aside of his nose, and gave a little wink. He started walking towards me! Ohhh Santa comming to meet me! I get to talk to Santa! I didn’t know what to say, so I just stood there as he stood above me. Santa was big, and he smelled like my daddy after he and my mom go out to the bars. And, then he laughed really jolly like and walked away. He said to package me up and send me down the river. And then, one of the elves threw a burlap bag over me and tied it again. He put me in the back seat of one of their cars and we took off.
So, here I sit. In the back seat of one of Santa’s cars. The elf driving me has the music really loud listening to Jingle Bell Rock and we are going real fast and everything. I wonder when Santa will give me my presents?
Once upon a time in a land far, far away filled with magic there lived a dragon by the name of Fred. Now, Fred had to be the worst looking creature there ever was. He had slimy, scaly skin which was a dark red. His neck was very long, and his tail even longer. He had wings on his back which let him fly anywhere he chose and his breath was the worst! He could breathe fire and roast anyones chicken or burn down a whole village.
Because of this, Fred was pretty lonely. He flew around the world constantly looking for a friend. Then, one day he found this little girl on the hillside. Her name was Sally. But, when Fred flew down to meet Sally, she was frightened and ran away. So, he hid behind a cloud and followed Sally to her house. Now, he knew where Sally lived.
Fred wanted to meet Sally very badly, he wanted a friend. But, Sally was frightened of him, so he thought long and hard of he could meet her. Finally, he had an answer. He would dress up in a disguise and go to her house.
Fred went through all his clothing chests to find the perfect disguise. Finally, he pulled out a large red coat and hat. He threw on the coat and put his wings under it. He also wrapped his tail around him and let it hang in front of him under the coat like a big belly. He put on the red hat so his ears wouldn’t get cold when he was flying.
Fred realized that he couldn’t just go to her house for no reason, so he decided that he would bring her a present. He took his favorite toy, put it in a box and wrapped it up so she wouldn’t know what was inside.
When he got outside and ready to go, he realized he woudn’t be able to fly because his wings were under his coat. So, he asked his friend Todd, the deer, to help him. He asked if he and his friends would pull a sleigh for him to ride in to Sallys house. Todd said he would and he gathered his friends and they all strapped themselves to the sleigh and ran off into the country. Todd said that his friends were tired, so Fred sprinkled a magic powder on them and up they went into the air and they flew the rest of the way.
When they finally got to Sally’s house, Fred got out and knocked on her door, but there was no answer. He tried to open it, but it was locked. So, Fred snuck up to the rooftop and found the chimney. He sprinkled another magic powder on himself and shrunk so he could fit down the hole.
He entered the house through the fireplace but didn’t see Sally. Everyone had already gone to bed. Fred went into Sally’s room and saw her laying there on the bed. She didn’t know he was there, and she was sleeping so soundly that Fred didn’t want to wake her up. He left the present on the floor with a note on it saying that he wants to be friends, gave her a kiss on
the cheek and left.
The next morning, Sally woke up and found the present and note. She was so excited that she wanted to meet Fred again and play together, so Fred came back to her house and they played on the hillside.
Fred had such a good time with Sally that day that he vowed to do this every year to all the children. And this is how Christmas came to be.