Sara

[size=1]With my friends, I really don't care. There's a large, changing sort of group of people that I hang out with on weekends (Carr knows what I'm talking about), and we generally get along pretty well. I've met them through another friend, so I'm not in close contact with any of them. But when we're watching movies, or whatnot, people are generally commanded to all pile on the couch so everyone can see. It kind of freaked me out at first (two years ago...yeesh), but it's just fun. I get bothered if people I dislike try to get too close to me, especially as that's usually accompanied by some condescending explanation of something they don't understand...Meh. But I guess I'm fairly easy-going. [/size]

[size=1]Wonderful. If you'd like to keep us posted on further exchanges, please consider using myOtaku. I do believe this thread has run its course.[/size]

[size=1]If you save it as a .gif, it should be okay, fuzziness-wise. Those are some cute pictures you have. I would remove the little floating one, though; it seems out of place there. The black border makes it look more professional. ^_^[/size]

[size=1]....Wow. This is going nowhere really fast. ....Sieg. *pauses* Welcome to OB. Please don't double post, and watch your run-on sentences. Punctuation is your friend.[/size]

[QUOTE=JuliasPeach]two is that Julias is like Orange Julias a place that sells fruit shakes!! (Yum!!) so instead of Orange Julias its Peach Julias which is Julias Peach!!! Muhahahahaha! :D [/QUOTE][size=1]Really? Oh, good, because each time I see your name, that's what I think of. ^_^ NeoNabishen, shikamaru, tursi, and Maxy...please put a bit more depth into your posts. OtakuBoards is discussion-oriented, etc. ^_~ 'Sara' is my mundane alter-ego; the simpler half of my awesome, double-lived, superhero self. I use it everywhere--school, home, with friends, and online. I don't dare use my true name for anything anymore, for it is too close to the moniker by which the world knows me, and the truth would endanger both myself and my loved ones. (You're friends with a superhero, ain't that nifty?)[/size]

[b]His men would follow him, but only out of morbid curiosity.[/b] [size=1]I'm certain I've heard that before. Heh. ^_^ I used to 'collect' taglines--just little short quotes. I had a wonderful file of them, and I was constantly going through it and revising it. When something no longer made me laugh, I'd take it out and put something else in. I think I averaged about 300 quotes in there at a time. I haven't gone through it in about a year, but I periodically printed them out and carried them around with me in my EMERGENCY FOLDER. Which was a green folder that I kept funny things in, heh. Here are some that still make me smile. [b]A good friend [i]keeps[/i] the surplus zucchini![/b] One of the girls at VBS mentioned this to me a few years ago--people were bringing in their surplus vegetables in hopes that someone else would take and eat them. If you've ever had a garden and grown zucchini, you know what a pain that stuff is. It grows [i]gigantic[/i], and there are so many of them. My mom used to substitute zucchina for all sorts of things in recipes, just so we could get rid of it--we had zucchini bread, zucchini cake, zucchini cobbler...Yeesh. [b]A man, a plan, a canal. Suez! [/b] I can't explain this one--it loses too much if you explain it. If you don't understand it, just keep it in mind. Maybe look up palindromes and have some fun reading the more well-known ones. [b]After The Wizard Of Oz I was typecast as a lion, and there aren't all that many parts for lions.[/b] My sources tell me this was said by Bert Lahr. If it wasn't...well, it's still funny. ^_^ [b]Alex, I'll take "Things Only I Know" for $1000.[/b] *grins* I used to watch Jeopardy every afternoon when I got home from school. It was my favorite show. Ever seen someone clean up a category? Yeah. [b]Never, never invoke anything you can't banish![/b] Good advice. ^_~ [b]And of course it goes without saying that[/b][/size]

[size=1]Heheh, Panda. I love that song; it's addicting. My friend Dave started laughing hysterically when I was at his house last summer; he was listening to "Why Does the Sun Shine?" That's what got me interested in them--anyone who would sing a scientific song about why the sun shines is okay in my book. And it's a [i]funny[/i] song. The sun is a mass of incandescent gas A gigantic nuclear furnace! Where hydrogen is built into helium At a temperature of millions of degrees. Actually, I think they didn't write that; they got it from an old educational science record or something. I think. I've heard the other version, and it's just as funny. It's incredibly dorky. I love it. *lopsided grin* I get such a kick out of their songs. "Here's hoping you don't become a robot! (Clang, clang) Whoops! Too late."[/size]

[quote name='Petey']I wouldn't be the outspoken asshole I am now if it weren't for my three years of high school theatre.[/quote][size=1]Indeed. And where would we be then? Bianca, you've been given quite a lot of good advice here. I hope you follow at least some of it. ^_~ And while this doesn't quite pertain to your request, I'm going to add some more: [color=#ff6600][b]Please put a little more depth into your posts[/b]. A quick profile of yourself might be interesting to someone, but it's hard to build a discussion around. ^_~ OB is very discussion-oriented; keep that in mind. If you want to post about your grade, horoscope, and hobbies, I'd suggest posting at myOtaku. You can register at myOtaku.com and write about yourself to you heart's content. [/color] Thanks. [/size]

[quote name='wrist cutter']I knew it was from sex - but before then I just thought sex was taking off your clothes and lots of rubbing and kissing. Didn't realize it was anything else, because after all, they never show more than that on TV.[/quote] [SIZE=1]Pretty much. We had a "Sex Education" class in fifth grade that didn't explain anything...except, perhaps, to bring "female sanitary items" to school so we wouldn't embarrass our teachers. (All of the 5th through 8th grade teachers were male.) We were also told that if we ever needed to "talk" to anyone, the fourth grade teacher (whom I disliked) and another woman were available. As for sex itself...I looked it up in an old World Book encyclopedia in sixth grade, where it was explained in a dorky, if relatively informative, way.[/SIZE]

[size=1]I just remembered something that's been bothering me, and I woud be delighted to have it go away. Since you can only sign a user's guestbook once (which I agree with), is it possible for the "Sign this user's guestbook" link to [b]go away[/b] after you've signed it? That would be splendid. ^_^[/size]

[size=1][center][b]Advice from a Caterpillar.[/b][/center] I stood in a forest glade, quite different from anywhere I had been before. A telephone sat, almost primly, on a large mushroom in the middle of the clearing. [i]Do they often have telephones in the forest?[/i] I thought foolishly. It was a stupid question, but until that morning I had been a naïve suburban girl, as familiar with forests as I was with sex. I knew what they were and had an idea of where to find them, but I hadn't gotten around to doing so yet...I'm getting off topic. There was a man standing between me and the telephone. He was tall. I'd never seen him before. "Who are you?" he asked me, and I could only stare at him. [i]Who was I?[/i] Such a simple question! But I didn't know the answer anymore. Was I the girl I'd always thought I was? No, I'd learned too much. That girl didn't exist anymore. God, if I believed what I'd been told...she'd [i]never[/i] existed. My life, my love, my world--It had all been some crazy dream. [i]Who was I?[/i] That's what I'd come here to find out. "I--I hardly know," I said. "Sir." He seemed like a [i]Sir.[/i] He looked at me. "Just at present--" I amended. "At least...I know who I [i]was[/i] when I got up this morning, but..." He was staring at me, waiting for me to go on. "I think I must have been changed several times since then," I finished, all in a rush. I was flustered, confused. "What do you mean by that?" the man asked. It wasn't a question; it was a challenge. His eyes glinted strangely. "Explain yourself." I swallowed hard. Explain myself? [i]Explain myself?[/i] God, what was there to explain about myself? The world needed to explain [i]itself[/i]--but me? I didn't even know who I was anymore. The woman had told me to come here for an explanation--[i]from someone else[/i], wasn't that what she had meant? "I [i]can't[/i] explain myself, I'm afaid," I said timidly. The man looked at me sternly. Realizing immediately that he would want to know [i]why[/i], I added quickly, "Because I'm not myself, you see." [i]Ergh, no.[/i] I berated myself silently. That didn't make any sense, even to me--but it was true, wasn't it? Or almost true. Oh, I didn't know [i]what[/i] was true anymore. "I [i]don't[/i] see," the man said. Was he angry or amused?--Was...was he [i]laughing[/i] at me? "I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly," I said helplessly, and slightly annoyed. "For I can't understand it myself, to begin with." I looked at the man, and he looked at me, and I realized the forest was strangely still. Even at home in my backyard there had always been insects about--flies buzzing, or gnats swarming, or ants marching across the ground. The glade was still. It was like standing in the middle of a perfect photograph. When I had finished looking around the glade and had turned my attention back to the man, he was still watching me. He was waiting for me to speak--what was I supposed to say? "I don't understand it myself to begin with," I repeated uncertainly, "but believing so many different things in a day is very confusing." "It isn't," said the man. "Well, perhaps you haven't found it so, yet," I said, trying to play the diplomat, and straining to find words that might work. "But when you learn something new--you will someday, you know--and then after that,believe something else again....I should think you'll feel it a little queer, won't you?" "Not a bit," the man said smugly. I didn't know what to say to that. "Well...perhaps your feelings are different," I said finally, getting angry. "All I know is, it feels very queer to [i]me.[/i]" "You!" the man laughed. "Who are [i]you[/i]?" And here we were, back to the first question I hadn't been able to answer. I was getting less flustered and more angry. I took a deep breath. "I think you ought to tell me who [i]you[/i] are, first." "Why?" asked the man. My mouth opened in embarassment or annoyance--how was I supposed to answer that? Anything I might say, I could already hear the man's short reply in my mind. [i]It would be polite[/i]--but he hadn't made any effort toward being polite up to now, and I doubted my protest would phase him. I silently cursed the woman who had sent me here. She's twisted my thoughts, put doubt in my mind, shattered everything I thought I knew--then sent me here. [i]For an explanation[/i], she'd said, [i]and a choice.[/i] What choice? [i]I can only give you a taste,[/i] she'd said to me, after throwing my world upside down. [i]He will explain it better.[/i] She'd paused. [i]And then, you'll have to choose.[/i] Explanation? Ha. If this was the promised explanation, I'd already made my choice. I was going home. Forget these crazy people and their pointless questions that led nowhere. I turned and walked away. "Come back!" the man called. I stopped. "I've got something important to say!" I slowly turned around, and looked at him. He seemed pleased. "Keep your temper," he said. I unclenched my fists. "[i]Is that all?[/i]" "No," he said. I took a breath, and looked at him again. He did not move, but simply looked back at me. [i]Alright,[/i] I thought. [i]I'll stay.[/i] I hadn't anything else to do, really, and I still ached for the explanation I'd been promised. He might tell me something worth hearing, after all... Neither of us said a word for several minutes, and I became aware again of how uncomfortably still the forest was. "So," the man began. "You think you're changed, do you?" He looked down at me in an almost fatherly way--that was almost as unnerving as the silence of before. "I'm afraid I am, Sir," I said. I stopped. "I can't remember things as I used--and I don't believe the same thing for ten minutes together!" I looked at him desperately, hoping, somehow, that he would offer help. The promised explanation, perhaps...or at least a word of encouragement or advice. Something...[i]anything.[/i] "Tell me your story," he said. And I did. [center]* * * * *[/center] "That is not right," he said when I had finished. I looked down. "Not [i]quite[/i] right, I'm afraid," I said, wondering again why I kept apologizing to him. "Some of the things have got muddled." "It is wrong from beginning to end," he said decidedly, and we sat in silence for some minutes. I wasn't angry with him any longer, although I don't remember why not. It seemed as though we were both thinking, both trying to sort out the same puzzle. It didn't feel at all like an explanation at the time, but perhaps it was, after all. He was the first to speak. "What do you [i]want[/i] to believe?" he asked. "Oh, I'm not particular as to [i]what[/i], exactly," I said hastily. I frowned--this wasn't coming out at all how I meant it to. "Only...one doesn't like changing so often, you know." "I don't know," the man said. His voice was ripe with the quiet, infuriating confidence of one who never doubted their beliefs. I closed my eyes, wondering how I had ever gotten myself into this mess. The dream, the telephone call, the woman... I didn't know what I believed anymore. Worse, I didn't know what I wanted to believe. I heard a sound, and opened my eyes again. The man turned to go, and began to walk away. I watched him go, quietly desperate, confused--moreso than I had been in many years, and certainly worse than I had been before I had come to this wretched glade. He stopped at the telephone in the middle of the clearing--the anomalistic telephone, the stupid, ridiculous telephone, the telephone that should never have been in the middle of a forest that was too perfect to exist--and turned around. He held something in each of his hands. I looked up at him, and moved closer--on my hands and knees, until I realized how foolish I must have looked, and stood up. I looked at the objects in his hands and at the large mushroom behind him. He had broken two pieces off of it, and now held them out to me, an offering. "One side will show you the truth," he said, elevating one hand. "The other will let you keep dreaming."[/size]

[size=1]I don't believe anyone here does much cosplay. While I may be wrong, I think your best bet would be to talk to someone you know who is familar with sewing. And I'm sure there are message boards devoted exclusively to cosplay somewhere. Failing that, there are many sites where people post up costumes they have made, along with what materials they used and other information. In other words....look for help anywhere but here. Thread closed due to excessive smileys and lack of punctuation.[/size]

[size=1]I don't watch much anime. I don't watch many movies. I've played video games for probably twelve hours of my life, tops. So...I don't have many things to choose from in my choice as coolest ninja. But I would have to say that my [b]Little Plastic Ninjas?[/b] are very cool. Perhaps even [i]exceedingly[/i] cool. They're small. They're sneaky. They have awesome little plastic weapons. They come in a variety of colors! Best of all, they're cheap--25¢ each! Check your local grocery stores! Orange Crouching Ninja #1 is shown actual size. [/size]

[size=1]I was one of the first people to sign up, I believe. Adam caught me online and asked me to try it out and see if uploading fanart worked properly. Heh. I post every couple days...usually three times a week, I guess. I upload art occasionally, but mostly just talk about whatever comes to mind. I enjoy frequenting other people's sites, though. That's much more fun than posting whatever I've got to say. Heh.[/size]

[QUOTE=Adam]Keep the suggestions coming. I'm going to be implementing changes to myOtaku on a piece-by-piece basis. Everything should be finished by the end of this month. For random member, I made a few tweaks so that it now only displays random members who've updated within the last 24 hours. Good?[/QUOTE][size=1]Yes, O Patient and Benevolent One. Very cool. Another thing that would be very nice is the ability to edit sidebar text color in the 'styles' section--there are fields that don't allow editing in the 'content' section, and it would be great to change them all in one fell swoop. It would also be nice to be able to edit sidebar link color seperately from other link colors. Wow, I feel so selfish.[/size]

[size=1]There's actually a great little book called [i]How to Be a Villain[/i]. (By Neil Zawacki, illustrated by James Dignan.) It rather focuses on one kind of villain--the fun, remorseless, evil kind--but gives little step-by-step plans and checklists. It's quite a fun book, if anyone's interested.[/size] [list] [i]Evil deeds don't need to be catastrophic to be rewarding. Indeed, plenty of minor acts can be satisfyingly unpleasant. Start small and work your way up to more infamous exploits. Here are a few ideas:[/i][b] [*]Realign the moon's orbit (you can always do Earth later) [*]Turn a popular landmark into a gelatinous ooze [*]Release a demonic hoard on a peaceful township [*]Learn to play the pipe organ and volunteer at church functions [*]Broadcast your evil plans on publicv access television[/b] [i]Remember, most of the mightily evil people you admire today probably failed once or twice along the way. Part of being evil is having the courage to keep on trying, even if you sinister shenanigans don't always inspire trror and strife.[/i][/list] [size=1]The whole book's written like that. It's a great read.[/size]

[size=1]I'm a thrift shop girl. For example, yesterday at Value Village, I found this tacky white plastic-canvas bag with yellow and orange designs on it. I love it, and it's so cool I might even consider using it as a purse. ...Albeit a large, tacky, bulky purse. And carrying a bag around all the time woud probably drive me nutters--but there's no reason I couldn't try. It [i]is[/i] such a cool bag. I love orange. Okay, so yeah, I was talking about my shopping habits. Pretty much, in fact, [i]what shopping habits?[/i] The only time I wear make up is for drama. My clothes are usually triple clearance at Kohl's Department Store (I love clearance--everything's all thrown together, and you get to hunt through for what you want--It's like an adventure!) or occasionally something I like at a thrift shop or rummage sale. (It's rummage season again, too. I can hardly wait.) Hair care gets tricky. My hair is bugger thick, and I've snapped a couple brushes in half while trying to go too quickly through my hair. I usually keep it pulled back (especially during the summer), but I go through ponytail holders like you wouldn't believe, either. If I don't break 'em, I lose 'em. But all is resolved with a trip to the Dollar store. On the rare occasion that I want my hair cut or trimmed, my mom is happy to do it for me. So I don't know. I guess it never really occured to me to spend a lot of money on how a look. Life's so much fun, doing things this way. [/size]

[size=1]Graduation is June 6th. It's hard to say whether I've been more stressed this year that other years. I'd guess not--while there are some things exclusive to Senior year, I take school in general a lot less seriously. It evens out. I think I'm just ready to be done. [/size]

[size=1]Heh. ^_^ Everything I post here is usually sketched, scanned, then "inked" and colored. I actually did the lines with pen on this one, but everything you see has been run through photoshop for clean-up. Lion King, heh. I guess I can see that. The box in the middle was honestly put in as something of an afterthought--her face was kind of crooked, so I lined up her features a bit more. Of course, that meant her hair didn't match up...so I just covered it up. *ducks* I don't know, heh. I just really love this picture. I feel so silly about it, but it really turned out great. I'm so pleased with it, and I'm so glad it's not just some delusion of mine--other people actually think it looks good. So awesome. ^_^ Yellow and Orange and Black. We should have a skin like that, James. *laughs and flees*[/size]

[size=1]Wow, Sage. They look great. As usual, I'm amazed by the sheer volume of what you can show us--I can harly draw that much at all, never mind drawing it [i]well[/i]. But I love 'em. You're really great with character design--and everything's so colorful. You put great little details into their outfits, too. Heh. I'd like to see something bigger from your some time--not just three-or-five-to-a-page character pictures, but maybe one drawing that you can put more cool little things into...or something.[/size]

[size=1]I'm really not quite sure how I ended up drawing this. I felt like drawing tonight, and was trying to come out with something that didn't look like a doll. (I think Godel pointed out that all of my pictures look like dolls or plushies, heh. And mostly, they do.) So, yeah. It started out as my having fun with bold lines, and I wasn't really paying attention to the picture itself (such as making sure certain aspects of her face were actually on straight--whoops) because I was having fun inking. I'm pretty sure it started out as an original character, but it ended up reminded me of The Bride, so I added the jumpsuit and colored it appropriately. Questions, comments, criticisms, whatever. No number ratings, please. :toothy:[/size] [img]http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=18668&stc=1[/img]

At the edge of your life, in the shadows and corners, amidst the clutter of cobwebby dreams and once-hoped-for futures...lives a girl. You remember her dimly, if at all. If you glimpse her again, it is through the mists of time, reflected in a dusty mirror. Her face is unclear, if you try to recall it, and malleable...she blends with your sister, or your mother, or your wife, her features forgotten and uncertain. She is not easy to remember...a transient figure in the already transient world of memory. But she remembers you. She met you one bright cold night in midsummer. It was autumn, and the flowers were just beginning to bloom. She saw you first, and approached you--she seemed to know you before you had spoken. You told her your name. [i]I know,[/i] she said. You laughed then. [i]You can't know my name,[/i] you told her gently. [i]I've never seen you before.[/i] She looked at you, eyes serious. [i]I know your name.[/i] She paused. [i]I'm Cassie.[/i] [center][img]http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=18661&stc=1[/img][/center] You were in love then, the two of you. She was fifteen; you, three years older. "She [i]seems[/i] older," you told your friends. "If you only knew her--I even think she's kidding about her age, she's just so, [i]so[/i]...I don't know. If you knew her, you'd understand." (You didn't know her, either. Not really.) Your friends teased your mercilessly that year--they probably still would, if they hadn't forgotten about her. (But she remembers them, too.) She was so serious for a young girl. You smiled and laughed and humored her, and sometimes you almost understood her. Almost understood her, with her strange thoughts, and odd theories, and quiet, sensitive comments. You loved her for them--the endearing tangents and careful words--words that seemed so out-of-place coming from a young woman's mouth. You wondered how she thought these things, and where her ideas came from. She was old for fifteen. She was beautiful, too, in a serious way. She had a wonderful smile--you loved her smile--but she didn't use it often. You asked her once, why she was so unhappy, and she looked at you with surprise. [i]I am happy,[/i] she said. [i]But you never smile![/i] [i]I'm tired,[/i] she said, and she sounded like an old woman weary of life. You didn't ask her many questions after that. She spoke of odd things--conspiracies, sometimes; strange religions and mysticisms, often. She studied reincarnation with a passion. [i]Why?[/i] you asked her once. [i]Because I need to know[/i], she told you, as serious as ever. [i]Do you believe in that stuff?[/i] [i]I don't know,[/i] she said. [i]This is why I'm learning about it.[/i] [center][img]http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=18662&stc=1[/img][/center] [i]She didn't know--[/i]that was her reason for many things. She spent hours in the library, in the bookstore, online, searching for answers. You were never quite sure what her question was, only that she was looking. Searching. Sometimes it seemed like she had found it--what, you never knew. But there would be a glow behind her eyes, and she would seem lighter for a while. One afternoon she held her headphones up to your ears: [i]Livin' on a prayer--Li-Li-Li-Livin' on--Living on a-a-a-Livin' on a pray--Livin' on a pray--Liv-iv-iving on a prayer, I just-just-ju-ju-ju--Living on a prayer--[/i] [i]The CD's scratched,[/i] you said, confused. [i]I know[/i], she said, eyes alight. She looked pleased, or troubled...or both. She took the headphones back and listened for several minutes, finally switching the player off. You never saw it--or the CD--again. She always carried a cassette player after that. It was one of the things you never understood. [center][img]http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=18663&stc=1[/img][/center] She asked you questions, sometimes. [i]Do you believe in fate?[/i] she wanted to know. [i]I don't know. I guess not.[/i] [i]Do you believe that we were meant to meet each other?[/i] she pressed. [i]Well, I don't know.[/i] You felt clumsy; you'd said the wrong thing. [i]I'm glad we did,[/i] you offered then. She said nothing. [i]Why do you ask?[/i] you prompted. [i]Do[/i] you[i] believe in fate?[/i] [i]Yes,[/i] she said. [i]Why?[/i] [i]Because no matter how often I try, I can't help loving you.[/i] She looked away then, but you laughed, lighthearted, unbelieving. [i]I guess I'm just that great a guy, eh?[/i] She looked at you, and smiled, but behind the smile there was emptiness. [center][img]http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=18664&stc=1[/img][/center] That was one of the last times she smiled at you, although you don't remember that either. She remembers, though. She remembers talking, listening, walking, dancing...every moment you spent together, and some you didn't. She remembers more than you ever understood, although she tried to explain it to you. She remembers saying goodbye. You didn't understand that, either. [i]I won't be here much longer[/i], she told you. She was obviously upset, but you didn't see why. [i]Of course you will be, love[/i], you said, stroking her hair. [i]And I'll always be right here.[/i] She tried explaining, but you wouldn't believe her. You always were so firmly set in your comfort zone. Memories played themselves out in her head as she looked at you. [i]You won't always be here,[/i] she didn't say, although she could have. She could have told your life to you, how your months and years would play out, who you would ****, who you would marry. How you'd land your dream job straight out of college, and how long it would take you to quit. The name of the teen you would kill when driving home drunk from a party. How your wife would always love you, and how you'd grow to resent her. Your future children's names. She just looked at you, and said nothing, heart pained. [i]Goodbye[/i], she whispered in your ear, and began to walk away. [i]Come back[/i] you said numbly, reaching for her--but she wasn't there, and you couldn't call her name. Already you were beginning to forget. [center][img]http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=18665&stc=1[/img][/center] Her face blurs in your mind's eye, and you strive to hear her voice, the words she spoke to you. They have run from your mind, water flowing gently through a sieve. She seemed terribly upset, didn't she? She thought her words were terribly real, terribly important. As though she knew--or thought she knew--the truth. Had lived her life a thousand times before, and remembered every moment. How many times, in how many lifetimes has she spoken to you? How many times had she tried not to fall in love? Already she is fading from your mind, and she slips into the forgotten corners, dusty memories of half-remembered moments and forgotten dreams. And for a moment, before she disappears, her eyes lock on yours. You do not see their color, only the pain inside them--the longing, the remembering, the [i]truth[/i]-- You close your own eyes, and shake your head...and smile. You don't believe me. You never do. [center][img]http://www.otakuboards.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=18661&stc=1[/img][/center]

[size=1]My friend showed this to me...roughly a year ago, I guess. I think discovery of a comic is one of the best parts--you get to read a ton of stuff without having to wait for updates, heh. I enjoy it. I do like the drawing style (although it did take me a while to figure out the differences between Erika and Kimiko.) I think the comic lost a great deal of spontaneity when 'Largo' left, but I still enjoy it, really. I think my favorite theme is Largo vs. Miho, especially the first "arc" of that. The GTA bit was hilarious, too. [i]Great. The psycho gothic gamer chick is here.[/i][/size]

[size=1]Hey there. Welcome to OB. We did have an Intro section at one point, but it was removed some time ago. Introduction threads aren't allowed anymore (although of course the only people who post them are the new people who don't [i]know[/i] that.) So, yes. Read the rules, have fun. See you on the Boards.[/size]

[quote name='Semjaza Azazel'] Usually when I read a comic, I'm on the L (the local electric train system) listening to some music to drown out all the outside noises. [/quote][size=1]It continues to be cool that you live in Chicago. To be honest, I don't read many comic books or manga, but if I am listening to music while reading (or have a song stuck in my head, which is more likely) I sometimes realize how well a certain piece fits whichever bit I'm reading. I think that's quite cool, though. Cahoots--surely not [i]every[/i] song? (I am going to be greatly amused if you say yes.) But, hey. My mom loves Billy Joel, so I grew up listening to it. [/size]