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I was wondering if you guys would buy my lanyards for keys ond other stuff. They are made with 550 paracord and look really nice. I have blue, red, camo with orange streaks, desert camo, camo, gecko, black, tiny bit of orange and some foliage green. Heres some examples:
they would be about 3-4$ minus shipping which is a deal.
When I was 14ish we often went on holiday with the family on the yacht, we went to many places and in one marina that we frequently attended there always was, sitting by the beginning of the pier, a 14-year old local island girl with haggard but pure and unspoiled quite decent looks, thick bushy brows, grass-green eyes, a retroussé nose, unkempt but clean long light brown hair and surprisingly straight white teeth who always wore an 80's denim vest with a loose-fitting shirt underneath, tight cropped obviously home-made denim shorts showed of her long slender bronzed but bruised legs and her feet were always found in Superga's of various colours.
She sat on a blanket and sold paracord bracelets/keychains and lanyards for outrageous prices but all the rich pensioners on their white tubs never flinched when buying them by the bucketload. She must have made a fortune selling them, anyhow I often walked by and said hi whilst occasionally having a brief little chat until one day I went to buy a bracelet, I picked out a nice green/blue one, and handed her two notes, one legal tender the other one containing the number of the pier, name of our yacht and the time in the evening when my parents/siblings would be away. She blushed and muttered a soft 'sure'.
I went back and waited anxiously, heart racing, not trying to rehearse questions, and act natural until half an hour after the aforementioned time she finally did arrive, after a brief talk whilst chilling on the bow deck looking at the clouds and holding hands an idea sprung to mind, I raided the fridge of alcohol grabbed the Sony ICF-SW1 world receiver and we both jumped in the tender and set for open water. She grasped me by my bare thigh and with every wave her delicate hands clenched me ever so slightly. Utilising her local knowledge we quickly found an abounded cove surround by jagged rocks. I beached the tender, we got off opened our beers, set the radio to some station that played Bob Marley on repeat and made out, vigorously.
Unhampered by any form off adult prude or modesty, things quickly escalated, as I took of her clothes she unbuttoned my shirt and we fell into an embrace of teenage purity, unbeknownst of the drama that was unfolding in the Marina where there were now two teenagers and a tender lost. We explored our bodies by sight, touch and smell, seemingly pleased with every curve and that whiff of saltiness that clenches onto anyone venturing near the ocean. Time was of no matter here, in this paradise, this garden of Eden we had created until were blinded by an immense light, was this god, about to punish us for our defiance to him?
As our eyes adjusted a shape became visible, a boat, with giant letters that made up the word "coastguard" and many ominous humanly shapes on board who now belted in laughter and banter as we lay there, on the beach, naked, covered in sand, hair intwined, my hand on her muff and surrounded by empty cans and clothes whilst Bob Marley was still singing with his soothing voice on the background. Our rescue party had come, it was already 2am, we had been laying there for four hours, our parents had both feared the worst.
We left the marina early in the morning, I never saw her again, we never went back. I wonder what became of her, what life would have been like if we weren't so rudely separated.
Why do you have to remind me off her OP? Now I can't sleep for days thinking about her.
I was wondering if you guys would buy my lanyards for keys ond other stuff. They are made with 550 paracord and look really nice. I have blue, red, camo with orange streaks, desert camo, camo, gecko, black, tiny bit of orange and some foliage green. Heres some examples:
they would be about 3-4$ minus shipping which is a deal.
omnidataWhen I was 14ish we often went on holiday with the family on the yacht, we went to many places and in one marina that we frequently attended there always was, sitting by the beginning of the pier, a 14-year old local island girl with haggard but pure and unspoiled quite decent looks, thick bushy brows, grass-green eyes, a retroussé nose, unkempt but clean long light brown hair and surprisingly straight white teeth who always wore an 80's denim vest with a loose-fitting shirt underneath, tight cropped obviously home-made denim shorts showed of her long slender bronzed but bruised legs and her feet were always found in Superga's of various colours.
She sat on a blanket and sold paracord bracelets/keychains and lanyards for outrageous prices but all the rich pensioners on their white tubs never flinched when buying them by the bucketload. She must have made a fortune selling them, anyhow I often walked by and said hi whilst occasionally having a brief little chat until one day I went to buy a bracelet, I picked out a nice green/blue one, and handed her two notes, one legal tender the other one containing the number of the pier, name of our yacht and the time in the evening when my parents/siblings would be away. She blushed and muttered a soft 'sure'.
I went back and waited anxiously, heart racing, not trying to rehearse questions, and act natural until half an hour after the aforementioned time she finally did arrive, after a brief talk whilst chilling on the bow deck looking at the clouds and holding hands an idea sprung to mind, I raided the fridge of alcohol grabbed the Sony ICF-SW1 world receiver and we both jumped in the tender and set for open water. She grasped me by my bare thigh and with every wave her delicate hands clenched me ever so slightly. Utilising her local knowledge we quickly found an abounded cove surround by jagged rocks. I beached the tender, we got off opened our beers, set the radio to some station that played Bob Marley on repeat and made out, vigorously.
Unhampered by any form off adult prude or modesty, things quickly escalated, as I took of her clothes she unbuttoned my shirt and we fell into an embrace of teenage purity, unbeknownst of the drama that was unfolding in the Marina where there were now two teenagers and a tender lost. We explored our bodies by sight, touch and smell, seemingly pleased with every curve and that whiff of saltiness that clenches onto anyone venturing near the ocean. Time was of no matter here, in this paradise, this garden of Eden we had created until were blinded by an immense light, was this god, about to punish us for our defiance to him?
As our eyes adjusted a shape became visible, a boat, with giant letters that made up the word "coastguard" and many ominous humanly shapes on board who now belted in laughter and banter as we lay there, on the beach, naked, covered in sand, hair intwined, my hand on her muff and surrounded by empty cans and clothes whilst Bob Marley was still singing with his soothing voice on the background. Our rescue party had come, it was already 2am, we had been laying there for four hours, our parents had both feared the worst.
We left the marina early in the morning, I never saw her again, we never went back. I wonder what became of her, what life would have been like if we weren't so rudely separated.
Why do you have to remind me off her OP? Now I can't sleep for days thinking about her.
ok, I know how to make those, and I think most people do. If you made me one in Seahawks colors though--and like actual hawk colors, not just any old blue/green, I would buy it for a maximum of $5.00 with a maximum additional shipping fee of $1.00. However, I should state that this is just me being supportive of a fellow NSer, and that I wouldn't actually seek these out on google and purchase them in any other scenario.
Also, I will rock the side-pony tomorrow just for the guy who posted above me.
omnidataWhen I was 14ish we often went on holiday with the family on the yacht, we went to many places and in one marina that we frequently attended there always was, sitting by the beginning of the pier, a 14-year old local island girl with haggard but pure and unspoiled quite decent looks, thick bushy brows, grass-green eyes, a retroussé nose, unkempt but clean long light brown hair and surprisingly straight white teeth who always wore an 80's denim vest with a loose-fitting shirt underneath, tight cropped obviously home-made denim shorts showed of her long slender bronzed but bruised legs and her feet were always found in Superga's of various colours.
Really? No one has pointed out this behemoth of a run-on sentence? You should be ashamed of yourself.
Bart.ManReally? No one has pointed out this behemoth of a run-on sentence? You should be ashamed of yourself.
When Lawrence does it, It works masterfully well.
dealwithit.gif
COOOOPHonestly did not read that because i figured it could have 0 to do with the thread.
It had everything and more to do with the thread... Paracord lanyards get you laid on the beach. They also mean you have a fucking yacht with a full liquor cabinet (fuck you, Lawrence, all I got is a 13" Banshee - and it's been in drydock for 3 years!!)
Bart.ManReally? No one has pointed out this behemoth of a run-on sentence? You should be ashamed of yourself.
It's a combination of factors, the fact that English is not my native, nor my second, nor even the third language that I speak (although it has almost overtaken German now), then there's the way in which I jot down these stories, a rapid conscious stream of thoughts, never stopping, never correcting, which also explains the occasional atrocious spelling mistakes that slip through, very Gonzo in a way, furthermore, there is the Dutch penchant for sentences that never, ever, ever seem to end, besides being a nod to Nabakov's and J.Joyce's endles sentences, in the end, as long as it's readable it's fine with me.
snobunny:)
I still have it somewhere, also the Sony World receiver still works, can't find the Bob Marley channel anymore though.
DingoSean(fuck you, Lawrence, all I got is a 13" Banshee - and it's been in drydock for 3 years!!)
Having a yacht for me is something of bygone times, it was swell when it lasted, but it's the past now.
DingoSeanI mean, it's better than German words that never, ever, ever, seem to end...
In Dutch we are also free to connect otherwise loose words together to form things such as: "arbeidsongeschiktheidsverzekeringsformulier" but now that I think about it, in a sense we are not free at all, we are expected and encouraged to fuse words together in a cumbersome seemingly random collection of arbitrary letters. There's even an organisation of grammar and spelling Nazi's who seek out people who instead of creating miniature impenetrable walls of word's leave untidy gaps and spaces.
It's a combination of factors, the fact that English is not my native, nor my second, nor even the third language that I speak (although it has almost overtaken German now), then there's the way in which I jot down these stories, a rapid conscious stream of thoughts, never stopping, never correcting, which also explains the occasional atrocious spelling mistakes that slip through, very Gonzo in a way, furthermore, there is the Dutch penchant for sentences that never, ever, ever seem to end, besides being a nod to Nabakov's and J.Joyce's endles sentences, in the end, as long as it's readable it's fine with me.
I still have it somewhere, also the Sony World receiver still works, can't find the Bob Marley channel anymore though.
Having a yacht for me is something of bygone times, it was swell when it lasted, but it's the past now.
I'll help you out, bud.
It's a combination of factors, including the fact that English is not my native, nor my second, nor even the third language that I speak (although it has almost overtaken German now). Then there's the way in which I jot down these stories: a rapid conscious stream of thoughts, never stopping, never correcting, which also explains the occasional atrocious spelling mistakes that slip through. Very Gonzo in a way. Furthermore, there is the Dutch penchant for sentences that never, ever, ever seem to end. Besides being a nod to Nabakov's and J.Joyce's endless sentences. in the end, as long as it's readable it's fine with me.
I don't get it. You're using comas as periods. You're going to the effort of using punctuation, but you're doing wrong. Why, man?
Dr.LaurentWhen I was 14ish we often went on holiday with the family on the yacht, we went to many places and in one marina that we frequently attended there always was, sitting by the beginning of the pier, a 14-year old local island girl with haggard but pure and unspoiled quite decent looks, thick bushy brows, grass-green eyes, a retroussé nose, unkempt but clean long light brown hair and surprisingly straight white teeth who always wore an 80's denim vest with a loose-fitting shirt underneath, tight cropped obviously home-made denim shorts showed of her long slender bronzed but bruised legs and her feet were always found in Superga's of various colours.
She sat on a blanket and sold paracord bracelets/keychains and lanyards for outrageous prices but all the rich pensioners on their white tubs never flinched when buying them by the bucketload. She must have made a fortune selling them, anyhow I often walked by and said hi whilst occasionally having a brief little chat until one day I went to buy a bracelet, I picked out a nice green/blue one, and handed her two notes, one legal tender the other one containing the number of the pier, name of our yacht and the time in the evening when my parents/siblings would be away. She blushed and muttered a soft 'sure'.
I went back and waited anxiously, heart racing, not trying to rehearse questions, and act natural until half an hour after the aforementioned time she finally did arrive, after a brief talk whilst chilling on the bow deck looking at the clouds and holding hands an idea sprung to mind, I raided the fridge of alcohol grabbed the Sony ICF-SW1 world receiver and we both jumped in the tender and set for open water. She grasped me by my bare thigh and with every wave her delicate hands clenched me ever so slightly. Utilising her local knowledge we quickly found an abounded cove surround by jagged rocks. I beached the tender, we got off opened our beers, set the radio to some station that played Bob Marley on repeat and made out, vigorously.
Unhampered by any form off adult prude or modesty, things quickly escalated, as I took of her clothes she unbuttoned my shirt and we fell into an embrace of teenage purity, unbeknownst of the drama that was unfolding in the Marina where there were now two teenagers and a tender lost. We explored our bodies by sight, touch and smell, seemingly pleased with every curve and that whiff of saltiness that clenches onto anyone venturing near the ocean. Time was of no matter here, in this paradise, this garden of Eden we had created until were blinded by an immense light, was this god, about to punish us for our defiance to him?
As our eyes adjusted a shape became visible, a boat, with giant letters that made up the word "coastguard" and many ominous humanly shapes on board who now belted in laughter and banter as we lay there, on the beach, naked, covered in sand, hair intwined, my hand on her muff and surrounded by empty cans and clothes whilst Bob Marley was still singing with his soothing voice on the background. Our rescue party had come, it was already 2am, we had been laying there for four hours, our parents had both feared the worst.
We left the marina early in the morning, I never saw her again, we never went back. I wonder what became of her, what life would have been like if we weren't so rudely separated.
Why do you have to remind me off her OP? Now I can't sleep for days thinking about her.
Seriously Lawrence, when are you going to write a book?
It's a combination of factors, including the fact that English is not my native, nor my second, nor even the third language that I speak (although it has almost overtaken German now). Then there's the way in which I jot down these stories: a rapid conscious stream of thoughts, never stopping, never correcting, which also explains the occasional atrocious spelling mistakes that slip through. Very Gonzo in a way. Furthermore, there is the Dutch penchant for sentences that never, ever, ever seem to end. Besides being a nod to Nabakov's and J.Joyce's endless sentences. in the end, as long as it's readable it's fine with me.
I don't get it. You're using comas as periods. You're going to the effort of using punctuation, but you're doing wrong. Why, man?
Fuck you and your good grammar Bart.Man. Thinkin' yous all smart cause you can read 'n' shit...
I honestly have such a gross abundance of lanyards I've collected over the years that you'd have to pay me to accept another one, or give it to me for free just lack the last 20 organizations to give me lanyards.
