Monday, August 27, 2007

No Title

Top 10 Signs You’re Too Pathetic To Go On Living

  • You check the SFMB/PPMB more than twice a day. Sometimes you just sit there hitting refresh over and over until a new post shows up and get as excited as a crackhead finding one more rock.

  • You really really hate people named Tom.

  • You have named your child/pet/car/houseplant after a Daria character.

  • You use Daria quotes in real life conversations. Sometimes you even manipulate conversations just so you can interject your favorite line to make you sound smart.

  • You have an unnatural sexual fear regarding penguins that you don’t fully understand.

  • You think that there is the slightest chance in hell that Daria will ever go to DVD.

  • The high point of your week is reading RLobinkse’s neverending fanfictions. And the worst part is that the stories are more exciting/interesting than your real life.

  • You constantly look for things to post on the boards just to see yourself post. Such as you were at the mall and there were two girls named Stacy and Tiffany eating lunch together. You also get excited about anything that you can somehow relate to Daria or somebody on the boards. Such as, you were driving down the street and you saw a store called “Jane’s”. Or you saw a girl wearing glasses and combat boots.

  • You have ever dated/fucked/masturbated to anybody from the boards.

  • You still devote any amount of time to a MTV show that went off the air 7 years ago.

Since you’re too pathetic to go on living, here are the top ten daria related ways to kill yourself:

    • Strangle yourself with a shoelace from a combat boot

    • Eat only frozen microwavable lasagna

    • Converse with a cheerleader and jock until your head explodes

    • Get stranded in a hurricane

    • Fall asleep while driving

    • Pay somebody to run up and down your spine with sharpened track spikes

    • Spend time standing under goal posts

    • Pierce your brain

    • Overdose on psychotropic berries

    • Walk down the street and burst into flames

Common Lies in Daria Fandom (1st in a series)

Let's start with the biggest lie in Daria Fandom:

  • "I was like Daria in High School"

    Sure—you were a hot-but-hiding-it teen girl with refined literary tastes who used her sharp tongue to back up her principles and who had a good friend. The people who say this were and are unpopular dorks with bookshelves full of stuff Daria would consider trash and no guts face-to-face, which is why they're all the more aggressive on the internets. The men who say this would have been Upchuck if they had the suavity; the women, wallflowers who wanted to be bitches.

    Ever notice that nobody ever says they were like Jane? That's because there's a simple bullshit test against it: ask to see their art.

    Not even nonamejane is like Daria. Especially nonamejane, because she hates college.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Top 10 Things ....

.... that are likely to occur at the Florida Dariacon:

10. Greybird gets a turd up his ass and stomps out while ranting about how nobody takes fandom or the dariacon seriously and don't contribute anything worthwhile. Proceeds to insult everybody all the while complaining that mean people should be kicked out of fandom. Once he leaves everybody at the Dariacon will make fun of him and there will be a Greybird imitation contest.

9. RLobinkse tries to moderate the Dariacon by deleting people and censoring what they say. Gets frustrated when there isn't a button he can push to moderate real life. Realizing he doesn't have any power, jumps off the balcony. Unfortunately for the rest of us, the con is being held on the first floor.

8. EA Smith shows up and then quits the con after I make fun of him because I catch his sister having sex with Donald Duck on the "It's a Small World" ride at Disneyworld. For some reason this really upsets Cincgreen and Ruthless Bunny.

7. Docforbin intermittently gives us up to the second information about his hometown. When people tell him to STFU he will stick out his tongue and say "I do what I want, I'm just like Luann."

6. Lapdance the cat runs away and joins the Disney Cast.

5. Jak will be molested by gay people. Because his parents let him meet people off the internet, and everybody knows that people on the internet like to molest 28 year olds. If he's lucky, the gay people will be women.

4. All pre-arranged discussions will end in people talking about penguins and making strange smiley faces at each other.

3. Skittlefarts will have sex with at least 5 people, not necessarily at the same time.

2. Richard Lobinske, Brother Grimace and others will sit there waiting desperately for people who want to listen to them read their fanfictions. However, people would rather listen to Docforbin's whereverhelives NY updates.

1. Everybody will walk into the con, stare at each other awkwardly for 10 minutes then go back to their rooms to check the PPMB.

I Got Banned From Becky's Shitty Board Because I Trolled It. What a Loss.


Everyone knows Bliss Ticks is annoying. Bliss Ticks knows Bliss Ticks is annoying...

...but it's a harmless kind of annoying. I even think it's funny, myself. Obviously not Becky, though.

So it all started with the harmless subject of barbecue ribs - something everyone who isn't a zombie enjoys.

So, he got a little overzealous about it. No harm, no foul, right? If you have a recent copy of phpBB (or aren't using an ad-riddled create-your-own-board schmuckfest...) you know you have the option of blocking users' posts if they annoy you. This gives most people a much-needed respite from Bliss Ticks.

Ok, so he spelled it 'ribz' instead of 'ribs'. Big deal, right?
WRONG. You are forgetting the one sacred tenet of The Internet: It's serious business.

So, long story short, the thread gets locked, posts get deleted, Becky cites as a reason that "Bliss Ticks might run off her members." Bliss Ticks gets upset and leaves.

Funny, no new members came and one
posting member leaves. Bliss Ticks had actually contributed a (relatively) good bit to the forum (in such high brow subforums as "Art for Art's Sake" - a name which immediately warns the viewer that he or she is in the presence of TRUE culture and to tread softly.). Considering the entire message board has all of 15 members, it needed all the help it could get.

So I joined and spoke out in the "Gripes" forum about the injustice of locking posts, deleting posts and basically raining on the parade of one eccentric little guy.

Thread got locked.

I did a 50 Hitler Post in response, again in the "Gripes" forum, daring Becky to leave it up if she had the courage to accept criticism.

Thread got edited.

I told her, "Fuck you, I'm going to boycott your shitty board."

I got banned. Banned for being a square peg in Becky's round, disgusting hole.

So here we are, ladies and gentlemen. I took screencaps of everything for posterity. Let me know if you want to see them and I'll put up a gallery.

In the end, Becky asked me this question: "
Would Thea and Kara put up with such rubbish, if you did that to them? Not a chance!"

The obvious answer? You aren't Thea or Kara. A long way from it, in fact. Love or hate them, they're actually decent admins of their respective boards. I wouldn't do it to them in the first place.

Bottom line? Boycott Becky's board. She wrote about fifty percent of the posts herself, lulz! It isn't worth it to cater to this kind of garbage.

Update: It looks like Becky has spent the last twelve hours on damage control on her board, deleting and editing posts and altering threads in an inept and fickle-fingered attempt to spin what happened in her favor and the rest of her spare time dreaming up "witticisms" with her sock puppet Inathe Yario to go in the comments section of this blog. Fucking pathetic. Why the two members of her board put up with her historical revisionism is a mystery to all.

lol: I'm done oppressing Becky. She and her sock puppets may feel free to continue posting their inane comments to this blog without fear of further deletion. Funny how a bunch of halfwits started weighing in about how the deleted posts seemed to be a harbinger of the apocalypse for this blog. The one thing they didn't realize, which they WOULD have realized if they had read and paid attention: I did it for the lulz.

Monday, August 20, 2007

How Stupid is "Too Stupid"?


The answer, in this case, is "Fetal Alcohol Syndrome" stupid, also known as "Ianthe Yario" stupid or, simply "Becky" stupid.

Has anyone else noticed the almost overpowering wave of 'stupid' which has hit the fandom in recent months? You have? Thought so.

Originally, it was just Becky, and she was (more than) enough. Then came Game Freak... and Ricky... and R.Whitley -- a cavalcade of sock puppets, seemingly in place to piss everyone off... and doing a good job of it.


The focus, however, is on Becky/Inathe Yario who, I have on VERY good authority, is the same person, despite protestations that it is not.

You see, the problem Becky has is that's it's simply too stupid to present a convincing or compelling argument to counter the allegations of sock puppetry. I think the inbreeding in its family is so deep and sustained that by the time Becky was shat out, the brain had become, essentially, a vestigial organ, evidenced in her breathtaking participation in threads such as this, this and this (and by extention, this).

In a post on Flame Wars, I compared Becky Yario to "the van Gogh of stupid". I'm beginning to realize how appropriate this comparison is as time goes by and more posts are made.


UPDATE: Quiverwing wins.

Saturday, August 18, 2007

Gah! What?

I guess I have posting access too. Oh, you all suck & can go die or something. That's what you were expecting, no?

Well let's see, what's the gossip? Blistex appears to have a multiple personality disorder, if his posts in various voices in Flame Wars on the fluff are anything to go by. I mean shit, I'm the queen of reinvention, but this is freaking ridiculous. At least his current voice is just boring as shit, rather than randomly violent like the last one was. I'm taking a pool on the next voice to show up - I'm calling pompous outrage seasoned lightly with watered-down vitriol. All bets should be placed in the comments section or at Flame Wars on SFMB.

Lemme see, what else is exciting? Nothing. Oh well, I guess that's the way Daria fandom has always been - dull & harmless with the occassional shitfight just in case you started thinking of pissing off to more exciting fandoms or something. Nothing like familiarity, huh?

*I can has edit? Cool!

Friday, August 17, 2007

I can has blogz now plzthx.

Finally! I can blog! I managed to register!! I am teh roxorz.

I wish I had something to say. :-(

Monday, August 13, 2007

xxxx=yyyy

Have you heard? It's lost its humor. It isn't funny anymore. We should stop because R-Lo has decreed so from on high. In a way I feel better, actually. With R-Lo there to adjudicate what is and isn't funny, that takes a lot of the responsibility off of me. What's more? He's the perfect judge of what is and isn't funny, given that none of his posts have so much as made me crack a grin.

Apparently the unfunny joke is "continuing or acerbating" a situation. A situation which, might I add, is more than likely one that R-Lo just flat out invented to give himself an excuse to be paternalistic again. I guess when your wife wears the pants in the relationship, you need to have some measure of control somewhere, so I guess molesting children and being a big shot on an internet message board will do. SERIOUS BUSINESS!!!

Is that fair for me to say? Probably not. Do I give a fuck that it isn't fair? Definitely not. Is it true? I doubt it - it's a fucking JOKE. (now watch, the internet detectives will be called out to investigate in preparation of an internet lolsuit for libel because I said that R-Lo likes to touch little boys. El Oh El - SFB.)

Anyway, my only advice to you, the plebes, is to proceed with caution. There's a new sheriff in town and he won't hesitate to let you know when the jokes told in HIS jurisdiction are funny or not, even if he wouldn't know 'funny' if it ran up and raped his face.

What an asshole, gee that's too bad.


Saturday, August 11, 2007

The Current Crisis in Daria Fandom

I was luxuriating in the kidney-shaped jacuzzi in my private suite at the Bellagio while Stacy Rowe worked magic with her mouth on my swollen member when Trent Lane interrupted us.

"Mr. MacWhatever, you have a call."

Stacy had just begun an accelerando on the way to a final cadence, and so it was difficult to reply. "TTTRReeenTTTTT, CA-Ca-CA-CAN'T Yyyou SEE WE'RE BUSY HERE?"

Trent replied with the only phrase that would guarantee my attention. "nonamejane is on the phone."

nonamejane! Business would have to be combined with pleasure. "BBRRIING ME THE GODDAMN PHONE ALREADY THEN!"

I heard him turn and walk away just as Stacy changed tempo from molto vivace to presto and I hoped her virtuoso performance would be concluded before having to take a phone call from her eminence, but just as the major moment seized me, I found a phone thrust into my ear.

YYYEEEEEEAAAAHHHHH?" I screamed.

"Still entertaining—or being entertained by—the talented Ms. Rowe, eh Scissors?" There was no mistaking that voice. nonamejane may write like some saucy, hard-done-by-life grrrl, but elocution will out; nonamejane is a young lady of some breeding, and about as far from mal élevée as Lady Catherine de Bourghs fancied herself from Elizabeth Bennet; nnj even pronounces the final t in didn't. But for all her sophistication, she was not sheltered, as her next outburst proved.

"Scissors, Daria Fandom is in danger of becoming Daria Blandom! Where there was once a surfeit of knaves, fools, and churls, there is now a paucity! Against whom shall I sharpen my talons, if not these?" She paused for emphasis and then quoted Pope's "Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot":
You think this cruel? Take it for a rule:
No creature smarts so little as a fool.

In my best imitation of Dick Powell trying to sound like Humphrey Bogart, I said, "I'm on it, babe."

"Stop trying to sound like Sam Spade," nnj replied. "It doesn't suit you. Now make haste!" she enjoined, and rang off.

Stacy held out a bathrobe for me, licking a bit of my essence, undiluted by rain water or flourine, from the hollow beneath her lower lip. "How was that, Mr. MacWhatever?" She needed to know that she pleased me, but I had pressing business.

"We've gotta save the pillow talk for some other time, sweetheart," I said, strapping my rod beneath the robe. "I gotta job to do, and it can't wait!"

Trent sullenly held the door for me. I felt sorry for him at times like this: bad enough that nnj had broken up Mystik Spiral when she brought Nick and Jessie under her spell, but when his sister succumbed—but here he was, my house boy, which meant he had something of the stiff upper lip about him. Somehow, he understood what it was to serve your betters, and here he was: they also serve who can't stand serving those who serve the one who seduced their sister into Sapphic love, or something like that.

After a brief embarrassment in the hall, I got some clothes on and dashed out of my room and through the private area for the high rollers, where I collided with Bill Bennett, who was pumping $1000 chips into a slot machine. The slot machine looked happy, but Bill didn't.

"Where are your manners, Snips?" he snarled. "You gotta get the pull on the lever just right—"

"Can't talk!" I cried. "The game is afoot! Loved your book!"

Finally, I stepped out into the pouring Vegas rain, stuck a hand-rolled cigarette in my mouth, and searched my pockets for Velma's number. If anybody was hip to the lost souls and losers in this town, it was Velma. She'd seem Down By Law at least fifteen times.

"Are you just happy to see me, or did you just buy some tube socks?" she smirked.

"No time for pillowtalk, babe," I purred, removing her earlobe from my lower front teeth. "I need a line on some paying customers."

Just when you think a dame is hardboiled, she crumbles on you. Her eyes went wider than Britney Spears' thighs. "Murder?" she whispered.

"Sure," I replied. Why give her any more nightmares, I figured. She had been a waitress, and a good one, until a Samoan lawyer propositioned her and ended up taking a pie from her with a machete. "But don't worry, you're out of the picture. Person I'm looking for is not in that tropical island mood when he's got blood on the brain."

"I don't get a lot of return business, Snips, you know that." She tugged at the hem of her pleated skirt and pulled her green jacket around herself more tightly, as if a cold wind were blowing from the north.

"But you get some, yeah?"

She nodded. Her eyes, usually enlarged by her coke-bottle-bottom thick glasses, were distant and afraid.

"Any of 'em stop coming recently? Say they were getting a real life?"

Her face lit up like a pinball machine. "Yeah—one guy, big, round, kept on wanting to play this game where he gets me a soda."

Jackpot! I was halfway across town before I realized I hadn't gotten his address from Velma. She had a customer, but she left the straight dope on a Post-ItTM note on the mailbox down the block.

It was an address on the Upper East Side. Good thing I was wearing my wingtips.

As brownstones go, it couldn't have cost more than $15 million and it probably only had the one ballroom. I felt for the poor deprived soul who had to make do there.

"Come in out of the rain, my boy, you must be soaked!" He was wearing silk-pajamas, a fez, and carried a horsetail fly switch. He led me through a kitchen where a sullen, well-muscled young man rolled a Player's Navy Cut cigarette idly between the fingers of one hand while picking at a salad with another. "'Sup." he said.

"'Aight." I replied.

He nodded approvingly and continued to pick at his salad. "You must forgive Chester," my host told me.

"Do I look like a priest?"

He laughed. "No sir—you look like a Daria fan and a friend of Velma's." He went to his amply stocked bar. "Brandy?"

"Never met her."

He shook his head. "A pity," he said, pouring himself a generous Armangac. "Now, I suppose that you, Mr—Mr&mdash"

"MacWhatever," I replied, lighting the handrolled cig I got out of my pocket in Vegas.

"Ah! Is it Scissors MacWhatever? A pleasure to be host to...how shall I say this? The author of such exquisitely obscure works. And so few of them at that—one must consider the œurve of, say, a Pierre Menard before finding an author whose catalog is so similarly small."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," I said, spreading my legs. "And you are—"

"My name is Gutman—Kaspar Gutman, at your service." He sat down on a short chaise longue. "I suppose you are here about my precipitous and, shall we say, uncouth departure from Daria fandom? Well, what is it Heraclitus says? ψυσις—"

"&phiυσις," I corrected.

"Eh? Ah, yes, forgive me—&phiυσις κρι&piτεσθαι &phiιλει," he went on. "Nature loves to conceal itself for its own ends. My boy, my interest in the misadventures of Ms. Morgendorffer as she navigates the foibles of a world demonstrably cruder than even our own was only a means to an end. I was looking for a community, one filled with eccentrics with occult—in the true sense of hidden, not the vulgar sense of magical—knowledge." He opened a book of stamps. "Does this give you an idea of what I'm seeking?" Using a pair of glittering zircon-encrusted tweezers, he took from its sleeve on the page a stamp that appeared to be a mint specimen of a stamp of Warren G. Harding—except instead of reading UNITED STATES POSTAGE about the profile of that unfortunate man, it read UNITED STATES HOSTAGE.

"This is a forgery—I mean a forgery of the original forgery," Gutman said, likcing his lips. "If you recognize this, you'll understand—"

"The lost irregularities from the stamp collection of Pierce Inverarity," I said, my voice all hushed tones. "The most famous collection of forged stamps in history."

"Yes—lot 49, as we philatelists know it from the name of he auction lot it composed, and which mysteriously disappeared, along with the executrix of Mr. Inverarity's estate."

"But why Daria fandom?" I asked, and realized the answer to the question at once.

"How is it you hide something? Well, Mr. MacWhatever, you hide it in plain sight. Something in plain sight is taken for granted, only partially understood, indeed, only paritally known. It is soon taken for a myth, and the real traces of its continued existence are taken for parts of another whole, or even unrelated aspects of diverse pheneomena—you see? The only people who would have the facts would not know their true significance. Those given to drama might say such knowledge drives men mad, but in fact, it is the other way around: the people who notice such things would be odd, eccentric, peculiar from the start. Oh, Mr. MacWhatever, I've haunted the margins of society for many years looking for the last piece of the puzzle, and it was among the Daria fans I found it—come and see..."

I followed him towards an archway in the sitting room covered by a heavy velvet curtain. With a grand gesture, he drew the curtain aside and bid me enter.

It was dark. I knew that collectors of drawings and photographs had to keep them in low light to preserve them, and I thought I would only get to glimpse these storied stamps by some dim diffuse light, if any. But suddenly the room was lit by a harsh florescent glare—

—And before me stood Stacy Rowe, gun in hand, and a mad expression on her face.

"You should have trusted your first instincts, Scissors," she chortled. "You thought nonamejane was losing her edge by making you an author at the Daria Blandom Blog, but your vanity convinced you that wasn't so."

"I'm sorry, Scissors," Gutman said. "I could have loved you like a son, but you know too much already. Never mind it makes no sense to you—we mustn't take chances."

My mouth was dry. "So the stamp collection—"

"Is of no moment to me, or to Ms. Rowe, or to nonamejane." He paused. "Or, for that matter, Velma."

"Right," I said. "So this—this—"

"This is goodbye, Scissors," laughed Stacy, and the next thing I knew—






Tom looked up from the story on the computer and said:





Friday, August 10, 2007

Shit List

My Current Shit List in no particular order

Bliss Ticks--- Cause he's like an inside joke that's funny for a while, then not so funny, then sad.
Becky-etc--- This really goes without saying.
MJ Pollard---I picture him being just like the Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons.... without the witty remarks.
Greybird--- Hypocrite. Yeah, I'm a fucking ass, but at least I admit it!
Angelinhel--- Can't correctly spell "hell".
RLobinske--- Anybody who uses their first initial and last name is a pretentious fuck who gets off on having small power over people.
Brother Grimace--- Creepy, obsessed with my sex life and sex in general. Tends to play the race card. Cries when somebody beats him at a game he started.
CharlieGirl--- Thinks sweeping is a challenging activity. Brooms probably have a higher IQ.
Gearhead--- Hasn't been around for a while, but I remember not liking him, though I don't remember why.
smk--- Appears to have a fear of vowels. Or perhaps is using initials. I hate initials. Spell it out beyotches.

My shit list changes daily.

Thursday, August 9, 2007

The sock puppet mystery unfolds further.

THIS JUST IN: a.k.a. "gamefreak"", leading one to wonder why it bothered creating a goodbye thread or re-registering... or why it didn't just use the old name.

The convoluted bullshit explanation (see also, "lie") can be found here.

UPDATE AGAIN: After a thoroughly unimpressive six day run, the account and posts of R.Whitley have been DELETED.

Sunday, August 5, 2007

Hmmm,

My bad, I didn't realize I had to "okay" comments. I will try to figure out how to turn that off, cause like I said, post whatever you want.
Me: This happened to me today and I think it's sad.

Random ppmb drone: You're EVIL!! You are epitome of bad and need psychological help cause you don't like killing squirrels but say sarcastic things to people.

Brother Grimace: You guys clearly want to have sex with each other

Me: BG, you need to get laid and stop focusing on my sex life

Brother Grimace: You're EVIL!! You are epitome of bad and need psychological help cause you don't like killing squirrels but say sarcastic things to people.

Me: Ohhhhhhhhhkaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.



Perhaps if I go out and kill squirrels for fun, these two will STFU?

Thursday, August 2, 2007

Second post

People that are annoying me at the moment:

Bliss Ticks- He started out ok, he was kinda funny and nice enough. Then he started getting weird. He started that stupid "I win" thing which was funny for like... well, it was never funny. Then that stupid emoticon he always uses. I hate emoticons anyway, I consider them the lowest form of communication possible. Now he seems to be on rollercoaster of being either a regular asshole or being a self righteous asshole who calls other people assholes.


smk- before yesterday I had no idea who this person was. I still don't, but apparently he knows who I am. He has jumped on the "nonamejane is ruining fandom" bandwagon so recently created by Cincgreen and his fucking bitch of a wife. When asked for proof to back up his claims, he floundered and went the oh so mature route of "i don't have time for this" and sarcastically said that I am the epitome of good to end the fight he could not finish.


Gamefreak aka Becky aka Ricky- Uh... it was bad enough when there was just one of them. Assdiva and her aliases can't spell, can't speak, post the dumbest shit possible, and should just be banned. They aren't the amusing type of stupid, just stupid.

I just realized that there are far too many people that annoy me to list all of them.


Recent gossip!

Gamefreak has quit the SMFB for some reason that is apparently my fault. The only thing I can think of is that he came into flame wars, and I flamed him...once. Thank god his alias Ricky joined right before he quit, or we would have been rid of him. Oh,
and good news! I got a PM from Gamefreak that said "Just wanted you to know that I forgive you, but I'm not Becky or Ronin all right. :wink: Don't be mad with this PM message" Thank god he has forgiven me. I couldn't sleep last night because of it. And rest assured Gamefreak, I am not mad with the PM message. I would be mad at you perhaps, if you were real and not the figment of Assdiva's imagination.

The Daria Fandom Blog has closed. I'm sure we're all devastated. There have too many recent dramatic "oh I can't take the horrors of this fandom anymore" episodes. MJ Pollard, EA Smith, Gamefreak and Cincgreen and Greybird. Unfortunately MJ Pollard is still hanging around, and Greybird came into an IRC chat last weekend, though left right away. I don't know about Cincgreen, beyond his wonderful summation of me on his blog, I don't think we've ever interacted before. Apparently middle aged fat men have little else to do than be melodramatic on Daria message boards/blogs. You know they'll all be back, and then once again bring up how they can't believe they've come back to the horrible backstabbing world of Daria fandom and how they can't believe they gave the rest of us urchins another chance to be associated with their smug asses.

Bliss Ticks posted something about how there shouldn't be "hit lists". Because he is too stupid to realize when somebody is joking.

uh... more gossip later, with witty comments next time, when I actually read the boards!

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Welcome to the Daria Blandom Blog

So, I created this cause I feel like there needs to be a place where people can come to view stupid things that people have said, read my opinion about people and a general place for gossip. I know how busy everybody is and how hard it is to keep up with these important aspects of the Daria community, so I am selflessly devoting myself to putting it all here. Miss out on a great flame war? Don't know who's having cybersex with who? No fear, all details will be provided here. This is of course assuming that my attention holds.


Rules:

Uh... there aren't any.


Feel free to submit posts, gossip, thoughts, flames to me via e-mail at nonamejane@yahoo.com. I may or may not post them, depending on if I like you or not.