I know this is a really old post. I find this kinda sa-xy, in fact. Just felt compelled, I guess, to respond.
OK, so how come we’ve all suddenly decided to be quiet? THIS is very vaguely creepy to me.
::taking notes::
Gunslinger, are you writing my biography? 
To add to the little hijack: Tight pants and leather jackets are sexy, but I prefer the guy to have a shirt on under the leather. I can take it off him later. Add a cowboy hat and BAM. [sub]or should that be BANG?[/sub] [/hijack]
I was looking through an old cookbook once, printed in the late 1800’s. There was a whole chapter on cutting up dead animals into useable pieces of meat, which you would do if you lived on a farm or something. Let’s see, how to butcher the cow, the poultry, the sheep, the deer, the rabbit… each with an old fashioned little ink rendering of the dead animal, like an old woodcut. The page on the rabbit stopped me, for there was a picture of a dead rabbit’s body with, I swear to God, a human infant’s head. Some kind of joke? It was creepy and gross, very hard to make out if you weren’t looking very closely, but the rabbit definitely had a small human head and face. Ewwwww!
Ok the sarcasometer is registering something here. I think you’re trying to tell me the Noid did not get baked alive in an oven. Well what the hell happened to him? Did he just disappear? I need closure.
Until I hear otherwise I am going to tell people that the Noid was baked alive on air, in an oven, possibly during the superbowl.
That wasn’t sarcasm. 
I was just trying to get you guys to come to your own conclusion about Friend Noid. I wanted to answer the question without revealing my own ignorance too. Will we ever find out what happened to him? Well, look. If he is still alive and i find him, I’ll kill him anyway.
Tight pants especially. I say leather on leather is good though. I don’t want a layer of cotton separating it, you know? But taking off the shirt might be kind of fun…hehe.
For the record: I prefer BAM. Sounds more Emeril.
Those nineteenth century people- oh what wild kids they were. They like you to believe they were all austere, but really they were just as sick as us. Probably even sicker. That infant head on the rabbit thing just clinches it: they were perverted.
My mother’s cat chases, well, I don’t know what she’s chasing, 'cause I can’t see them and neither can my mother.
We laugh about it, but when Muffin goes tearing through the house in a purposeful way, not that random tearing through the house that cats do, then stops in front of the closet door as though she’s got something trapped inside…
I have a cowboy hat…I think theres a pic on my picture page. Motorcycle or bomber jacket? I have the latter (black, of course, to match the hat).
While that story is very vaguely creepy, every time I read that post I read it as “my mother chases cats, well, I don’t know what she’s chasing…” and that just struck me as being very, very creepy. I am just very glad to discover that I read that wrong!
In case you were wondering, the subject of the Noid’s death now has it’s own thread in General Questions.
Of Pizza, Death, and The Noid
Your regularly scheduled very vaguely creepy programming will now resume.
Last June, quiet girl was in a car accident. she had just gotten gas for her car, and pulled out onto the road. It was dark and raining extremely badly (several roads flooded out that night, which almost never happens.) Her car stalled, and she got out and started pushing it off the highway. She saw a car coming, realized that it probably didn’t see her, and ran. The guy ended up totaling her car.
For a while after that, I couldn’t be around her without touching her to make sure she was there. And damn it, I still can’t drive past that road without shivering.
There was the time I saw my name on a tombstone. I am named after my grandfather. This is something I know, but never really think about. He is rarely mentioned, as he died when my dad was 10. I was visiting my grandmothers grave, the first time since she died several years ago. I looked down at my grandmother’s gravestone and caught out of the corner of my eye my grandfather’s gravestone with my name on it. I looked closer and saw the death date was 18 years before I was born. That was very surreal and kinda creepy.
Someday I want to find the cemetery where a girl with the same name as mine is buried. She would have been 20 this year…only two years older than I. My name isn’t very common either. It’s so very sad.
I find it especially creepy that people think that I’m a 13 year old boy.
For the record, I’m a VERY female 18 year old. Just go to my (newly updated!) webpage and take a look-see at my pictures.
Heh…heh. If it helps, I imagined you as a very nice thirteen year old boy. You know, the sweet helpful kind who helps his mother make cookies, and then holes up in his room playing video games, and plays football in the yard with this dog, and- ahh. Forget it.
I’ll go take a look at you some time.
::purr:: I would love to take a jacket of leather off of you. You and your cowboy hat and your jacket sound very scrumptious.
Well well well…
Methinks I sense a coming competition (Friendly, of course) betwixt Zoggie and I over you, Gunslinger. You’re a wanted man heh heh