*****Official Chiefsplanet "I have a random thought" Thread*****

[Mr. Flopnuts]

Just in case you have some random thought and feel like starting a thread over it, you can just bump this one.

[The Franchise]

Originally Posted by chefsos

Never tried it, but I notice they chug it pretty quick in the commercials.

Yeah....because the taste is ****ing horrible.

[chefsos]

I'm sure most folks don't give a damn, but I have to crow just a bit.

Took my second crack at the RVIA Certification Exam Tuesday, (I failed it in September by ONE correct answer out of 200 ) I got the results today, annndd...

I AM NOW A CERTIFIED RV TECHNICIAN!

Yay me.

[KurtCobain]

I can't wait to go to school.

[luv]

Originally Posted by Pestilence

5 Hour Energy has to be the nastiest tasting shit out there.


But it works.

It's like taking a shot.

[JD10367]

So I'm flipping channels today and come across (pardon the pun) women's beach volleyball. Goddamn, I love that sport. It was the US vs. China, and the US, of course, was Misty May and Kerri Walsh. Now, neither of them are beauty queens--they're actually both pretty homely--and May is too short and stocky while Walsh is too thin and underweight, but DAMN there is just something about those tiny outfits. They make every woman look hot. Walsh's bottoms pretty much resembled a headband; asscrack hanging out the top, buttcheeks hanging out the bottom (and she's skinny with no ass to speak of).

Tomorrow is the final match: the US against... hold onto your peckers... Brazil. In my experience the Brazilian women's volleyball players pretty much make you JIMP. I think it's at 4:30pm. I'm setting my high-def DVR.

[Okie_Apparition]

http://bigfootsightings.org/2008/05/...bigfoot-story/

May 2, 2008
Theodore Roosevelt’s Bigfoot Story


This is an excerpt from Theodore Roosevelt’s 1893 book, The Wilderness Hunter. In this excerpt he wrote about a Sasquatch encounter near the Salmon River in Idaho.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Frontiersmen are not, as a rule, apt to be very superstitious. They lead lives too hard and practical, and have too little imagination in things spiritual and supernatural. I have heard but few ghost stories while living on the frontier, and those few were of a perfectly commonplace and conventional type. But I once listened to a goblin-story, which rather impressed me.

A grizzled, weather beaten old mountain hunter, named Bauman who, born and had passed all of his life on the Frontier, told it the story to me. He must have believed what he said, for he could hardly repress a shudder at certain points of the tale; but he was of German ancestry, and in childhood had doubtless been saturated with all kinds of ghost and goblin lore. So that many fearsome superstitions were latent in his mind; besides, he knew well the stories told by the Indian medicine men in their winter camps, of the snow-walkers, and the specters, [spirits, ghosts & apparitions] the formless evil beings that haunt the forest depths, and dog and waylay the lonely wanderer who after nightfall passes through the regions where they lurk. It may be that when overcome by the horror of the fate that befell his friend, and when oppressed by the awful dread of the unknown, he grew to attribute, both at the time and still more in remembrance, weird and elfin traits to what was merely some abnormally wicked and cunning wild beast; but whether this was so or not, no man can say.

When the event occurred, Bauman was still a young man, and was trapping with a partner among the mountains dividing the forks of the Salmon from the head of Wisdom River. Not having had much luck, he and his partner determined to go up into a particularly wild and lonely pass through which ran a small stream said to contain many beavers. The pass had an evil reputation because the year before a solitary hunter who had wandered into it was slain, seemingly by a wild beast, the half eaten remains being afterwards found by some mining prospectors who had passed his camp only the night before.The memory of this event, however, weighted very lightly with the two trappers, who were as adventurous and hardy as others of their kind. They took their two lean mountain ponies to the foot of the pass where they left them in an open beaver meadow, the rocky timber-clad ground being from there onward impracticable for horses. They then struck out on foot through the vast, gloomy forest, and in about four hours reached a little open glade where they concluded to camp, as signs of game were plenty.

There was still an hour or two of daylight left, and after building a brush lean-to and throwing down and opening their packs, they started upstream. The country was very dense and hard to travel through, as there was much down timber, although here and there the somber woodland was broken by small glades of mountain grass. At dusk they again reached camp. The glade in which it was pitched was not many yards wide, the tall, close-set pines and firs rising round it like a wall. On one side was a little stream, beyond which rose the steep mountains slope, covered with the unbroken growth of evergreen forest.They were surprised to find that during their absence something, apparently a bear, had visited camp, and had rummaged about among their things, scattering the contents of their packs, and in sheer wantonness destroying their lean-to. The footprints of the beast were quite plain, but at first they paid no particular heed to them, busying themselves with rebuilding the lean-to, laying out their beds and stores and lighting the fire.While Bauman was making ready supper, it being already dark, his companion began to examine the tracks more closely, and soon took a brand from the fire to follow them up, where the intruder had walked along a game trail after leaving the camp. When the brand flickered out, he returned and took another, repeating his inspection of the footprints very closely. Coming back to the fire, he stood by it a minute or two, peering out into the darkness, and suddenly remarked, “Bauman, that bear has been walking on two legs.”

Bauman laughed at this, but his partner insisted that he was right, and upon again examining the tracks with a torch, they certainly did seem to be made by but two paws or feet. However, it was too dark to make sure. After discussing whether the footprints could possibly be those of a human being, and coming to the conclusion that they could not be, the two men rolled up in their blankets, and went to sleep under the lean-to. At midnight Bauman was awakened by some noise, and sat up in his blankets. As he did so his nostrils were struck by a strong, wild-beast odor, and he caught the loom of a great body in the darkness at the mouth of the lean-to. Grasping his rifle, he fired at the vague, threatening shadow, but must have missed, for immediately afterwards he heard the smashing of the under wood as the thing, whatever it was, rushed off into the impenetrable blackness of the forest and the night.

After this the two men slept but little, sitting up by the rekindled fire, but they heard nothing more. In the morning they started out to look at the few traps they had set the previous evening and put out new ones. By an unspoken agreement they kept together all day, and returned to camp towards evening. On nearing it they saw, hardly to their astonishment that the lean-to had again been torn down. The visitor of the preceding day had returned, and in wanton malice had tossed about their camp kit and bedding, and destroyed the shanty. The ground was marked up by its tracks, and on leaving the camp it had gone along the soft earth by the brook. The footprints were as plain as if on snow, and, after a careful scrutiny of the trail, it certainly did seem as if, whatever the thing was, it had walked off on but two legs.

The men, thoroughly uneasy, gathered a great heap of dead logs and kept up a roaring fire throughout the night, one or the other sitting on guard most of the time. About midnight the thing came down through the forest opposite, across the brook, and stayed there on the hillside for nearly an hour. They could hear the branches crackle as it moved about, and several times it uttered a harsh, grating, long-drawn moan, a peculiarly sinister sound. Yet it did not venture near the fire. In the morning the two trappers, after discussing the strange events of the last 36 hours, decided that they would shoulder their packs and leave the valley that afternoon. They were the more ready to do this because in spite of seeing a good deal of game sign they had caught very little fur. However it was necessary first to go along the line of their traps and gather them, and this they started out to do. All the morning they kept together, picking up trap after trap, each one empty. On first leaving camp they had the disagreeable sensation of being followed. In the dense spruce thickets they occasionally heard a branch snap after they had passed; and now and then there were slight rustling noises among the small pines to one side of them.

At noon they were back within a couple of miles of camp. In the high, bright sunlight their fears seemed absurd to the two armed men, accustomed as they were, through long years of lonely wandering in the wilderness, to face every kind of danger from man, brute or element. There were still three beaver traps to collect from a little pond in a wide ravine near by. Bauman volunteered to gather these and bring them in, while his companion went ahead to camp and made ready the packs.

On reaching the pond Bauman found three beavers in the traps, one of which had been pulled loose and carried into a beaver house. He took several hours in securing and preparing the beaver, and when he started homewards he marked, with some uneasiness, how low the sun was getting. As he hurried toward camp, under the tall trees, the silence and desolation of the forest weighted on him. His feet made no sound on the pine needles and the slanting sunrays, striking through among the straight trunks, made a gray twilight in which objects at a distance glimmered indistinctly. There was nothing to break the gloomy stillness which, when there is no breeze, always broods over these somber primeval forests. At last he came to the edge of the little glade where the camp lay and shouted as he approached it, but got no answer. The campfire had gone out, though the thin blue smoke was still curling upwards.

Near it lay the packs wrapped and arranged. At first Bauman could see nobody; nor did he receive an answer to his call. Stepping forward he again shouted, and as he did so his eye fell on the body of his friend, stretched beside the trunk of a great fallen spruce. Rushing towards it the horrified trapper found that the body was still warm, but that the neck was broken, while there were four great fang marks in the throat. The footprints of the unknown beast-creature, printed deep in the soft soil, told the whole story. The unfortunate man, having finished his packing, had sat down on the spruce log with his face to the fire, and his back to the dense woods, to wait for his companion. While thus waiting, his monstrous assailant, which must have been lurking in the woods, waiting for a chance to catch one of the adventurers unprepared, came silently up from behind, walking with long noiseless steps and seemingly still on two legs. Evidently unheard, it reached the man, and broke his neck by wrenching his head back with its fore paws, while it buried its teeth in his throat. It had not eaten the body, but apparently had romped and gamboled around it in uncouth, ferocious glee, occasionally rolling over and over it; and had then fled back into the soundless depths of the woods.

Bauman, utterly unnerved and believing that the creature with which he had to deal was something either half human or half devil, some great goblin-beast, abandoned everything but his rifle and struck off at speed down the pass, not halting until he reached the beaver meadows where the hobbled ponies were still grazing. Mounting, he rode onwards through the night, until beyond reach of pursuit.”

[KurtCobain]

I know BigFoot. She sleeps in my bed at night.

[JD10367]

"Criminal Minds" repeats on Ion Network.

I want to do very bad things to A.J. Cook. She's on my short list.

[JD10367]

As if Casey Anthony getting off scott-free wasn't bad enough, I just noticed that "Pirates Of The Caribbean: On Stranger Tides" has just topped $1B globally.

I have lost all faith in humanity.

[Dr. Johnny Fever]

She's not classically beautiful but I think I have a crush on Hope Solo... goalie for the US Women's soccer team.

[JD10367]

Originally Posted by noonan

She's not classically beautiful but I think I have a crush on Hope Solo... goalie for the US Women's soccer team.

There's mention of her in the Women's World Cup thread in the Pics area. She's definitely attractive.

[Okie_Apparition]

Title: The Greatest 911 call ever
http://blogs.kansascity.com/crime_sc...call-ever.html

[JD10367]

Watching an SNL Mother's Day repeat hosted by a pregnant Tina Fey. They're doing a skit where she's dressed as Ariel from the Little Mermaid, and between her bright red wig and her baby-induced big titties I wanna her brains out even moreso than normal. Throw in Kristen Wiig and the commercials for the new Mila Kunis movie where she's in her bra and panties and it's "Slightly Untraditionally Pretty Women I Want To **** Raw" night.

[Okie_Apparition]

Some guy's wife just gave birth to a 20 lber. I wonder if on every birthday from now on, he slips a stich from his wife's box into the kid's birthday cake. Until the kid hits his 40s

[KurtCobain]

That's an interesting thought.