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  • Originally posted by Owly View Post
    I would have thought Young Gay Panda was awesome for doing so, but I went to a fine and performing arts high school filled with geeky, artsy nerds who did things like play Mission Impossible with finger "guns" through the downtown shopping malls and did the Monkees walk down the school hallways while singing the Imperial March.
    Did you ever live in TX? Because you could easily be describing my HS. It was a school for freaks, geeks, and nerds. We had no football team, but our robotics and CS teams would kick your ass with an ass kicking battle bot or an ass- kicking virus.
    Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
    My Latest Journal

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    • Originally posted by naiadknight View Post
      Did you ever live in TX? Because you could easily be describing my HS. It was a school for freaks, geeks, and nerds. We had no football team, but our robotics and CS teams would kick your ass with an ass kicking battle bot or an ass- kicking virus.
      Nope, although Alberta does strongly resemble Texas in some ways, I most definitely grew up north of the 49th parallel. My school was more arts oriented but had a similar style of completely outside the norm behaviour on the part of the student population (and most of the teachers too).
      “If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive.” --Audre Lorde

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      • Where was that nerd/geek/freak high school for me when I needed it! Owly and naiadknight, you were so lucky!

        Oh, if only we'd had a robotics team at my HS . . .
        Got Panda? Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and now Pandaloonery!

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        • I hate your doctor, Lady Friend.
          JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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          • Owly - Did you go to Vic? We just applied for my eldest daughter to go there. She's currently having problems "fitting in" at her current school, even her friends are distancing themselves from her a bit. They don't like her hair colour, nose-piercing, etc.

            Sorry folks - carry on.
            There are two wolves fighting within a man's heart, one is Love, the other is Hate. The one that wins is the one you feed.

            My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we'll change the world. - Jack Layton

            The Primal Adventures of Griffin - Huzzah!

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            • Originally posted by Lady Friend View Post
              Where was that nerd/geek/freak high school for me when I needed it!
              I know! I wish I'd gone there, too. In my school, one survived by playing up how stupid one was. So it was considered good form to hide the quiz/test/paper you'd just nailed an A on and claim that you'd failed. Or else you were seen as arrogant.
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              • At the school I went, if you didn't ace the test, you were inferior. Then again, no one bragged either. We were all used to being top dog gradewise and it was no longer so. I fought HARD for my 85% GPA.
                Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
                My Latest Journal

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                • PART ONE: When I was a freshman in college, my friends and I had a game called The Loaf.

                  Very little in our cafeteria was edible, leaving Gay Panda to a diet that consisted of little more than mashed potatoes and Lucky Charms. Even the bread for toast was suspect, the plastic around the loaves sweaty from some exertion I did not care to contemplate, and often they were odd varieties. I had grown up on white and wheat and no funny business, and was instantly suspicious of loaves labeled as sprouted. What exactly had sprouted? It must be something for hippies. I stuck it in my mental File: Hippie: Subheading: Food under tofu and sprouts and Green Tea Ice Cream*.

                  Piled artistically around the loaves in sweaty plastic were bagels made of stone and baguettes of such hardness that were you to run at me with a sword, I would fight you off fearlessly with mere bread. The sharpest knives dulled on their crusts leaving nary a dent, and I examined them closely under the light to verify that they were not made of plastic or painted steel. Month after month, those same loaves were placed on the serving table for breakfast and remained unmolested by the student body.

                  We smuggled one out of the cafeteria during spring semester. It was a round loaf with a ridge along the top, golden brown in color and as hard as marble. After playing catch with The Loaf, someone had the idea to hide it in a roommate’s backpack while she was in the can. On the way out, she scooped up her backpack and trotted off to Spanish class unaware. I did not have that class and sadly did not witness her reaction once ensconced at her desk, but I was told that it consisted of a loud squawk. From that point, the game was on.

                  It turned up in other backpacks, in closets and trunks of cars. It turned up in beds and under beds and in desk drawers. The Loaf passed through countless hands on its adventures about campus and the surrounding communities, everyone waiting to get Loafed and plotting who to Loaf next and where. It did not crumb or flake, it did not mold or soften, and on it traveled. I do not know what fate it met over summer break**, but I like to think that many years later, the game is still being played by the next generation of Loafers.
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                  • PART TWO: While picking through my freezer the other day, I realized that I have been playing a solo version of The Loaf with a package of flap meat. I was bullied*** into accepting a free piece by the Whole Foods butcher last November in order to expand my palate, and promptly went home to put it in my freezer and avoid it since I know squat about flap meat. The name is gross. It reminds me of a day in cubhood when one of the Perpetually Sticky Panda Siblings and I were playing Leap the Neighbor’s Picket Fence. This was a brilliantly stupid game, to expose one’s nether regions to the sharp wooden points of a fence, but in my defense, I was six. I managed to clear it every time, but the Panda Sibling upon his last leap did not. The combination of a poor launch, gravity, and an unforgiving wooden point resulted in a loud tear, and my last memory of that afternoon is of the Panda Sibling’s backside, a flap of his jeans moving up and down as he ran down the driveway clutching his stabbed buttock.

                    And so I’m playing The Loaf with my package of flap meat. I keep discovering and rediscovering it every week and then moving it aside, over there behind the frozen raspberries, over here under the bacon, up on top of the ground beef, now resting aside the ice container. What one does with flap meat is beyond me, and then last night the butcher at Whole Foods confronted me yet again about what I had made with it. I have spent four months quickly changing the topic when she brought it up and was prepared to do so again, but unfortunately, I was not alone in the shopping.

                    Lady Friend, whose hands were covered in swine flu from pushing the cart and who has no patience for how Gay Panda avoids things, learned that it has been migrating about the freezer. I received The Look from both her and the butcher, and now the flap meat is defrosting in my refrigerator. So thus concludes another episode of Cooking FABULOUSLY With Gay Panda, because once it's ready, I’m going to make Lady Friend deal with it.

                    Stay tuned this week for Cooking FABULOUSLY With Lady Friend!
                    Last edited by Gay Panda; 03-07-2012, 01:46 PM.
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                    • UPDATE: (in explanation of *, **, and ***)

                      * Green Tea Ice Cream? Ugh. It had three strikes against it from the start:
                      1. File: Hippie: Subheading: Food.
                      2. As hard as the bread. I watched a friend scoop with dedication for five minutes yet only have the thinnest rind in the cone.
                      3. I spotted a dead fly in the container.

                      ** We tried to track its whereabouts, and I heard a rumor that someone had returned it to the dining hall after five months of it being passed around in backpacks, cars, and Valhalla-knows-where-else. But on the bright side, it wasn’t like anyone was going to eat it.

                      *** Bullied = Encouraged. She was so excited for me to try a new cut that I said okay. Because she does not know me, she has no idea how I avoid new things.
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                      • I always see these 200-300 page logs and feel like an exclusive party is going on in there. I'm like, "Hey, what's going on in there guys?? You're 200 pages deep I haven't read a lick of it! May I still post here so I feel special...?"

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                        • Yay I'm excited! I'll be honest, I kind of imagine you as my godfather, who is kind of a large gay panda himself. He is very articulate and it's easy to read what you write in his voice. So hearing about another FABULOUS cooking adventure makes me smile.
                          Depression Lies

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                          • Originally posted by kcarol View Post
                            I always see these 200-300 page logs and feel like an exclusive party is going on in there. I'm like, "Hey, what's going on in there guys?? You're 200 pages deep I haven't read a lick of it! May I still post here so I feel special...?"
                            It's not exclusive!!! Feel free to join in the natter, that's all this journal is. When I really should be working, I'm here instead.
                            JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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                            • Heh. Solo game of the Loaf. Sounds like what we were doig with a pack of mystery meat in both the freezers. We were reasonably certain it was beef, due to the (now brown) coloration. We must have gotten it not long after moving into the house (3 years ago), wrapped it and popped it in the freezer, neglecting the crucial label. It moved from top to bottom, under the pizzas, on top of the ice, beside the fresh chicken... Then we got the chest freezer a year ago. It was placed on top in the chest freezer, because I was determined to figure out what it was and how to use it. It played the loaf game between freezers now: I'll use it tonight, no I won't, put it back in the chest freezer, put it in the fridge freezer, bury it under frozen veggies. It survived the Great Fridge Outage last winter. It survived the power outage a few months ago. I want to say I got rid of it, but in reality, I know it's there in the freezer, waiting for me to move the frozen broccoli or the ice cream and rear it's ugly head and say "USE ME!"
                              Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
                              My Latest Journal

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                              • Or I'm over at Pandaloonery procrastinating there. Today I took down the most inexplicable Twilight birthday card ever.
                                JOIN THE PANDA SHOW!!! Primal With A Side Of FABULOUS and PANDALOONERY!

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