BUMP if you are lurking

[LnGrrrR]

???
dude that didnt make any sense whatsoever.

anyway, i just got off the phone with my godfather whos a prestigious medical doctor. he reminded me that i had forty-two holes blown in my underdeveloped lungs when i was a baby, so it hampered my lung development.

that, coupled with with my poor vision and staff infection in my eyes, would disqualify me from doing anything remotely adventurous.



any suggestions? would it be a good idea to falsify my claims and just go for it? or would i have to settle for taking a job at Mrs. Baird's bread?

Falsifying claims is pretty much the dumbest thing you can do.

Go to a recruiter and tell him what your medical history is, and what jobs are available. There are still probably a few interesting jobs that don't require you to jump out of planes.

Going into space is probably out of the picture though.

[The Reckoning]

thank you. . i knew i could count on you to brave the frivolous nonsense in this thread to rescue a stranded comrade and give valuable advice without any second thought. youre a good soldier.

and yes...

defects can ruin dreams and lives

especially the defect known as addiction. not too long ago, a relative of mine was diagnosed as addicted, physically and mentally, which is the worst combo. he took a liking to a substance that put him at ease, but it put my family in distress. so far we've been successful in keeping him rehabilitated, and a couple of days ago he was released from rehab. he still has symptoms of addiction, so since i live near by, it's up to me to make sure he eats right and flies straight.

thats why my tenure at ST has come to an end with this post.

ST time for me is now his time, but that's okay, because i look after my family. analyzing my relative has also helped with my research, so maybe one day i can use our experience to help all those diagnosed as addicted find new lives.

ill leave this community of sports enthusiasts with a sample of my field notes do enting my relative's habit. please, have hope.

nsfw....


He probes his needle into his own biceps, holding his breath as he concentrates on finding a vein. Unable to register blood after half a dozen attempts, he jerks the syringe out of his arm, cursing.

He plunges the needle deeper into his biceps several more times, reaching almost under his armpit and changing the angle each time while wiggling the point. He tugs the skin in all directions as he repeatedly pulls back on his plunger to check for blood. Suddenly he starts jabbing violently, as if trying to spear a miniature fish in his bloodstream. Unsuccessful, he yanks the syringe out again.

He sits back and holds the syringe chamber in the window light with the needle pointing up. Air bubbles marble into the mixture of red blood and black drug in the chamber. He mutters another curse and, with several abrupt chops of his wrist, forces the air bubbles to the top of the chamber. He then slowly pushes the plunger upward until the bubbles surface one by one through the point of the needle. He licks it so as not to waste a drop.

He pokes again into the same awkwardly located biceps muscle in his armpit. After 15 more minutes of jabbing, poking, and pulling, he finally manages to register a vein and quickly flushes the drug directly into his bloodstream. He drops the used needle on the ground, and I can see visible traces of blood inside the empty syringe. I suggest that he rinse it, but he is already nodding and moaning with pleasure.

He calls me forth to whisper something in my ear, but as I lean over, he has grown silent; he has suddenly fallen into a heavy nod and does not respond.

[LnGrrrR]

thank you. . i knew i could count on you to brave the frivolous nonsense in this thread to rescue a stranded comrade and give valuable advice without any second thought. youre a good soldier.

It did take all of a few seconds to write.

[Axe Murderer]

thank you. . i knew i could count on you to brave the frivolous nonsense in this thread to rescue a stranded comrade and give valuable advice without any second thought. youre a good soldier.

and yes...

defects can ruin dreams and lives

especially the defect known as addiction. not too long ago, a relative of mine was diagnosed as addicted, physically and mentally, which is the worst combo. he took a liking to a substance that put him at ease, but it put my family in distress. so far we've been successful in keeping him rehabilitated, and a couple of days ago he was released from rehab. he still has symptoms of addiction, so since i live near by, it's up to me to make sure he eats right and flies straight.

thats why my tenure at ST has come to an end with this post.

ST time for me is now his time, but that's okay, because i look after my family. analyzing my relative has also helped with my research, so maybe one day i can use our experience to help all those diagnosed as addicted find new lives.

ill leave this community of sports enthusiasts with a sample of my field notes do enting my relative's habit. please, have hope.

nsfw....


He probes his needle into his own biceps, holding his breath as he concentrates on finding a vein. Unable to register blood after half a dozen attempts, he jerks the syringe out of his arm, cursing.

He plunges the needle deeper into his biceps several more times, reaching almost under his armpit and changing the angle each time while wiggling the point. He tugs the skin in all directions as he repeatedly pulls back on his plunger to check for blood. Suddenly he starts jabbing violently, as if trying to spear a miniature fish in his bloodstream. Unsuccessful, he yanks the syringe out again.

He sits back and holds the syringe chamber in the window light with the needle pointing up. Air bubbles marble into the mixture of red blood and black drug in the chamber. He mutters another curse and, with several abrupt chops of his wrist, forces the air bubbles to the top of the chamber. He then slowly pushes the plunger upward until the bubbles surface one by one through the point of the needle. He licks it so as not to waste a drop.

He pokes again into the same awkwardly located biceps muscle in his armpit. After 15 more minutes of jabbing, poking, and pulling, he finally manages to register a vein and quickly flushes the drug directly into his bloodstream. He drops the used needle on the ground, and I can see visible traces of blood inside the empty syringe. I suggest that he rinse it, but he is already nodding and moaning with pleasure.

He calls me forth to whisper something in my ear, but as I lean over, he has grown silent; he has suddenly fallen into a heavy nod and does not respond.

oh hai