I demand full disclosure! (in Off-topic)

I am generally not interested in your personal lives, but if you are going to start threads about spending time in jail or make posts about losing almost all of your blood I'm afraid I must insist that you provide details. It is common courtesy.

If you don't want to talk about it THEN DON'T!

Your friend,

NSFY

The anime came out of LuBu's TV and attacked him.

NO SOUP FOR YOU !!!!!!!

It was the jar of canned pickles that did it.

I was holding the jar firmly while my dad tried to twist the rusted top off. The top came off all right...the glass sheared and cut two nice gullies in my right index finger.

The blood flow was immediate and exquisite. Red warmth all down my hand and wrist. While my dad yelled at my mom as if she somehow had control over canner lid oxidation (something about "too much salt"), I bled out in the sink. Good times.

I told my dad to be quiet and asked him to kindly drive me to the emergency room. Bambi band-aids were out of the question (but hopefully I could score a PowerPuff bandage over some stitches!). Heather joined me in the Lincoln and Dad drove us to Harlan.

In the Harlan Hospital emergency room we watched a poor man being led out by a deacon we knew and a police man. I found out a few days later the man's wife and daughter had just been killed in an icy accident on I-80. I looked at my finger and felt very, very empty inside.

Eventually the emergency room was quieter and I was asked to step behind the curtain. I had feeling in the finger (no nerve damage), but could not move the fingertip. All I felt was hot pain when any attempt at motion was made with that poor phalange. A tendon had been severed.

I got loose stitches, a tetanus shot, and was sent on my way. I was told to go to a doctor in Des Moines the next day, and not to eat anything. Odds were good I would need surgery, and conventional wisdom dictated food and anesthetic didn't mix. Something about vomiting on the operating table or somesuch.

The next day, back home in Des Moines, Heather drove me to the doctor. I winced and gasped like a little girl as I tried to remove the bandage from my loosely-stitched, profusely blood-ridden finger. Heather couldn't stop giggling. Wench. I'm glad I divorced her later.

The doctor did the same tests that Harlan had done, and said he would have to operate. I was given a time and place to be and sent home again. As I told friends that day I was having surgery later, the only advice they could offer was to tell me about the anesthetic possibly killing me. Apparently every one of my friends had had a long lost cousin who died during routine surgery. I am glad I moved to St. Louis later. Stupid friends.

Before surgery, I asked the nurse why I had to be put under. She made a motion with her finger from my wrist all the way up along the inside of my arm, illustrating how far they might have to lay me open in search of my sliced tendon. I said they could use a hammer to put me out if they had to, the sooner the better.

It was Christmas Eve, and I was lying on the operating table. I really thought I was going to die. Just think of the stories! Christmas, pickles, one little finger, accidental death. It was just too much. I kicked myself for not buying a lottery ticket, as I was certain the jackpot would have been mine.

I counted backwards just like the nice man told me to, and then was asleep. I woke up in the recovery room. Heather was nowhere to be found, nor was the doctor. He later popped his head in and asked me to gently move my finger tip. I could make it move a tiny bit. Success! Heather found me eventually, and drove me home. She said the nurses hadn't told her a thing, so she thought I might be dead. Was that hope in her voice?

I don't think so, because she took very good care of me as she put me to bed. I woke up puking that night (thanks for that apple juice, recover room nurse!), but then felt much better. Christmas was basically a day of ever-increasing pain as the anesthesia wore off. That was OK, I had codeine and vicodin. And bourbon. As it turns out, I only took one codeine throughout the whole recovery process.

But I never got my PowerPuff girl bandage. Savages.

--------------------------

So there is the full disclosure of how I got a Harry-Potter-forehead scar on my right pointer. Thanks for reading.

THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!

That was excellent! Masterful! Bravissimo!

doesn't that make you wonder about all the things that went unmentioned because of the unwillingness to share?

i agree with NSFY. . . i really dont care if you are getting married or want to know what type of ring to get your fiance. honestly, why would you even post it?

If Max doesn't want to say WHY, then he doesn't have to. If you say "why post it if you won't explain blah blah" then you are being foolish. He said what he said because he owed people money and COULD NOT repay them. What is the point of him coming back to this game knowing that he left it with loans and pay plans and expecting no one to ask questions. He gave his reason -jail- and thats all he has to say. You people are not his WIFE. You are just user names in a text based strategy game that mean nothing. At least he has the decency to come back, apologise, and do his best to make it up to those he let down or in his words 'rectify the debts'. What you people are asking is RUDE and INAPPROPRIATE! Exclamation mark! Period.

"You are just user names in a text based strategy game that mean nothing."

it is for that reason that i do not wish to know about anyones personal life.

Then get over it.

Bush, perhaps that is your opinion and in the same token as your post, I don't care what you have to say or how you feel about it. Keep it to yourself, this is a community, you can choose to be a part of it, or you can keep your mouth shut and not point out why others should not participate in being a community.

Bush, if you don't care, as you say, then do not fuel the fire. Which means do not discuss that which you do not wish to dicuss.

ill just leave it at that. . .unless someone wants to add anything.

"We demand admission!"
"We demand that you can't keep us out!"
"And I demand that I am Vroomfondel!"
"I am Vroomfondel, and that is not a demand, that is a solid fact! What we demand is solid facts!"
"We don't demand solid facts! What we demand is a total absence of solid facts. I demand that I may or may not be Vroomfondel!"
"We demand," "that demarcation may or may not be the problem!"
"That's right!" "we demand rigidly defined areas of doubt and uncertainty!"


ok I'm going to go back to listening to that now :P

Lets say it's something he didn't do.

Now let's say its something BAD.

Now lets say it's something he did do.

Now lets say it's one of those things thats so morally apprehensable that it will change your opinion of Max forever.

I'd rather just leave my opinion with Max as it has been.

down with bush you are not down with NSFY.

I said that I wasn't really interested in personal lives. I didn't say anything about whether people should post personal stuff. If someone wants to ask for input on a wedding ring or whatever, that's their choice. But if they open the door, they should expect questions, and in my opinion, be willing to answer things relevant to what they disclosed.

Regards,

NSFY

NSFY,

Do you really think I wanted to post that I was in jail? Seriously, I poured a lot into this game and a few players actually care why I was away. I can't go about CMing everyone. To be honest, a few players on here deserve an answer. Last time I checked, this is CB. A Community. Frankly, I wasn't speaking to you when I posted my return to a game I've been playing far longer than you have. Nobody made you read the post and you shouldn't "wig" out and try to "set the CB community straight" about what, how or when to post. Matter of fact I could almost care less if you knew I was away or back. The players I wanted to let know of my return I have been able to chat with less a few. (Jon, G_Beee, Saint, Shade)

/flame

Eh, last thing. If you're going to say something as lame as your original post say it to the player and dont post about not posting. Get it?

I thought NSFY had is tongue firmly in cheek as per usual. *shrug*

Good to have you back, Max, and you don't need to tell me a thing. Just read my pickle story. I DEMAND IT!

Noted. I think I'm just cranky from little sleep. Sorry NSFY.

I was talking to a jar of canned pickles the other day, and he said his cousin's nephew had been wrongly accused of a crime against Sut. He said, that in a story designed to tell facts about a scar on the right index finger, certain important details were left out. Granted this WAS a jar of pickles and I had to take everything he said with a grain of vinegar. But I did some checking, and some interesting facts did surface.

1) A week before the incident, not one but two jars of pickles were purchased from the grocery store. Subsequent checks on credit card purchases revealed that Heather had also purchased a home canning kit and diamond tipped glass cutter.

2) Trace evidence from the top of the dryer that was in the home at the time of the accident revealed small amount of pickle juice that had been hastly wiped up from the surface.

3) Examination of both the home canning kit and diamond glass cutter had shown traces of recent use. This was explained away as tomato canning and stain glass window work.

4) forensic anaylsis of the pickle jar in question did show evidence that the jar had been opened and resealed as shown by the presence of certain microbes that could only be explained as introduced when exposed to the air. Also the matrix of the glass indeed did show that there was a disruption in the shear line consistent with the weakening of the glass by some foriegn object presumably a glass cutter of some sort.

5) Web sites that spoke about the amount of blood loss that could occur before unconsciousness and death were located in the computers recently visited temporary internet file cache.

All by themselves, each item may not look suspicious, but taken as whole they paint a very different picture about what really happened that day. So in defense of pickle jars everywhere I say, before we allow a well written dialogue to sway are opinions about these otherwise benign creatures, we should ask the narrator for a complete disclosure of the facts. :)

Thank you Sefton - I've spent the past day in constant fear of marauding pickle jars, but now it seems that it was an elaborate hoax. Why would Sutekh create such a story? Who is he trying to protect?

Dick Cheney, probably. :)

Well Maelstrom, a little bird told me (ok it was a jar of sweet baby gerkins) that it appears that Sut was unaware of the true nature of the accident, and that it appears that the details as expressed by Sut were true from his point of view, simply lacked information that was obtained in an independent investigation started by an alliance of the United Pickle Workers of America, the American Canning Institute, the world reknowned Gerkin Think Tank, and the World Pickle Summit planned for Cancun Mexico in 2006. Unfortunately the offending pickle jar disappeared mysteriously from a independent testing lab, the only clue being a small peice of cucumber rind found near the jar's last known location. There is some specualtion amongst the whole canned pickle community that this was a joint strike coordinated by Sut's ex wife and a rogue offshoot of PETA, PETC (People for the Ethical Treatment of Cucumbers). Apparently the pickling effect that creates the tasty gerkins we love to consume is a rather painful process for cucumbers, and I am afraid, folks they are not above fighting back!

Sefton, first you reassure me, now you frighten me! Should we prepare for massive rioting among the common working cucumbers? Why, those innocent looking pickles could be using their jars as trojan horses - they could sneak out and murder us in our sleep!

And why should it stop with the cucumbers? Maybe the beans will start up next! We all know how much damage a can of beans can do under normal circumstances - what if they go on the offensive?

What's the world coming to, when you have to be afraid of your canned goods?

This did happen in our utility room, right near the dryer (seriously).

An uncanny analysis, Sefton. Sadly, the jar of pickles was home-canned, meaning Heather would not have had a chance at it, UNLESS my parents were in on it too.

They vote Republican, so I shall put this on Dick Cheney.

Nice work, folks.

And Max, you have every bit a right to be cranky as NSFY has the right to...well, act like NSFY. *smile*

Another coverup!

According to the Deputy Director of the CIA vegetable division, as quoted from a 2003 April town meeting in Vlassic PA, "the best cover-up or conspiracy if you will, has the very targets of the conspiracy defending the non-existance of said conspiracy." In an off the record interview conducted by a one Shaquitta Love, female escort currently based in the Iowa area, the deputy director of the CIA vegetable division has suspiscions that this cleverly disguised plot was hatched from within the ranks of PETC, and specifically created by a known "harmful influence" one Ima Brian, in an elaborate and concerted ploy to reduce attendance in the World Pickle Summit scheduled for 2006 in Cancun Mexico. In a gesture apparently designed to boost attendance, the Deputy Director invited Shaquitta and several of her close personal friends to attend the summit, and even offered free travel and accomodations. Apparently the CIA is very concerned about the well being of our great pickle industry.