Ask RM a Question

[BurtReynolds]

He makes a good point.

[Higgs]

When I was a kid I remember being in the back seat of a mate's parents car on the way to a basketball game. At the time it was the thing to wear 2 pairs of socks when you played. I watched my mate put one sock on his left foot, another sock on his left foot and then his shoe on his left foot. He then repeated this on his right foot. I couldn't believe it and it absolutely upset me.

There were 3 of us in the back seat of the car that day and he was suitably chastised as a total weirdo.

AND I had to take off my shoes and socks and re-put them on as he'd totally thrown off my "feet feel" with his disgusting display.

Psychopath, 100%.

[Jorge]

AND I had to take off my shoes and socks and re-put them on as he'd totally thrown off my "feet feel" with his disgusting display.

Oh yeah, he's totally the weird one

[96583UP]

lol fr fr

[BurtReynolds]

When I was a kid I remember being in the back seat of a mate's parents car on the way to a basketball game. At the time it was the thing to wear 2 pairs of socks when you played. I watched my mate put one sock on his left foot, another sock on his left foot and then his shoe on his left foot. He then repeated this on his right foot. I couldn't believe it and it absolutely upset me.

There were 3 of us in the back seat of the car that day and he was suitably chastised as a total weirdo.

AND I had to take off my shoes and socks and re-put them on as he'd totally thrown off my "feet feel" with his disgusting display.

Psychopath, 100%.

I'm sorry you had to go through that.

[BurtReynolds]

what is todays equivalent of doing cocaine in 80s miami?

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[BurtReynolds]

Fentanyl in Phoenix?

[wease]

Oxy in Biloxi

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[The Argonaut]

blood transfusions from a healthy 20-year-old in marin county

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

Is your TV mounted? I'm probably going to have to do this, but for some reason I just don't like it

[tommy]

Is your TV mounted? I'm probably going to have to do this, but for some reason I just don't like it

No. Most people mount them too high.

I was painting a rental house last week and went to adjust a mounted TV so I could paint behind it and it fell off the wall and almost landed on my head. It was pretty heavy, it could have killed me

[lennytheweedwhacker]

Is your TV mounted? I'm probably going to have to do this, but for some reason I just don't like it

No. Most people mount them too high.

I was painting a rental house last week and went to adjust a mounted TV so I could paint behind it and it fell off the wall and almost landed on my head. It was pretty heavy, it could have killed me

Oh God I hope you didn't break it.

[BurtReynolds]

i broke the base of mine in the move, so I'll probably try mounting it.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

i broke the base of mine in the move, so I'll probably try mounting it.

Can't wait to see pics

[spike]

I’m pretty good at mounting TVs now, but I leave the cords hanging for too long. I pick up cord covers and paint them like six months later.

[lennytheweedwhacker]

I’m pretty good at mounting TVs now, but I leave the cords hanging for too long. I pick up cord covers and paint them like six months later.

Sounds exactly like something I would do, but two years later.

[spike]

I’m pretty good at mounting TVs now, but I leave the cords hanging for too long. I pick up cord covers and paint them like six months later.

Sounds exactly like something I would do, but two years later.

They just kinda blend in most of the time, then once in awhile you notice them and it’s really bothersome.