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Post a biography of yourself.


Hɑrdy

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[center]I randomly thought up this idea. Get to know other members better by posting a mini-bio of yourself. The biographies I find interesting and worth reading I will post in the 'Bio hall of fame' for everyone to read.

It can be as simple as:

"I like sex, drugs and alcohol" or as detailed as you like. Go for it.

[Spoiler=Bio hall of fame.]
[Spoiler=Number 85]
My name is ‘Number 85’, that’s all I really should be telling you. Why? Because if you know me well enough you will realize that the number 85 was my life, before I became involved with drugs and before I got kicked out of school.
The number 85 was my team number in football. I loved football and I was a top athlete, however, after my mother died I went to live in Jamaica for a short-term period.

While in Jamaica I was vunerable due to the recent death that had dawned on me and influential, I quickly became heavily involved with marijuana and I still am.
These days I take Marijuana on maybe a daily basis and smoke joints as you would drink water.

If you want to know more about me or want to interview me or w/e contact me via PM.
[/Spoiler]

[/Spoiler]

EDIT: Inb4biographysectioninprofile.

I find the concept of the 'about me' page not satisfying as no one actually bothers to read it, besides, I don't see the harm in making this topic.
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[s]All of my life is written in my bio. Now there, go read it out loud from start to end without any skipping. Wouldn't take much time, I promise you.[/s]

In short, I'm Japanese. When 3, I moved to California. At 5, Connecticut. At 10, back to Japan, and goes on till now. Shortly after returning, I became addicted to the internet.

OH LOOK AT THE SMART DETAILS

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[quote name='Darkplant - PAIN' timestamp='1311857774' post='5394929']
[s]All of my life is written in my bio. Now there, go read it out loud from start to end without any skipping. Wouldn't take much time, I promise you.[/s]

In short, I'm Japanese. When 3, I moved to California. At 5, Connecticut. At 10, back to Japan, and goes on till now. Shortly after returning, I became addicted to the internet.

OH LOOK AT THE SMART DETAILS
[/quote]
The bio on your profile is simply magnificent. I recommend it for a change of reading to [u]anyone[/u].
Eh, it's okay. Why'd you keep moving?

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"A long time ago in a galaxy not so far away, there lived a couple called 'shelagh' and 'mark' House. Shelagh, the younger of the 2 came from a land of Potato wine and boxers known to all as Ireland, while Mark came from a land of racist drunks and half blue people called Scotland. it is unknown how these 2 people met or even why they met, what matters is what happened when they met. when it began it only lasted a few seconds (wait ago dad) but it was only the begginning of a series of mistakes and poor choices, all together it took 9 months to finish this monstrosity, this hurendous beast, this creature that could only be described as 'David' was developed. for 22 months they nurtured this creature and through a series of trial and error, Shelagh and Mark had a idea, if they could make something like this by accident, then what would happen if they purposely tried? yet another 9 months had passed, and they succeeded in what they had set out to achieve, on that day of 17th of december 1993, i was given live and was set on a path that would lead to missery, despair and eventually death"

end of part 1

(if you would like me to continue, press the rep button now. if you have any shred of common sense and don't wish me to continue, send me your hate mail now, the decision is yours :))

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[indent][indent][indent]Ello Im Yasu Toxic Slaughter. I Can Be A b**** In The Ass If I Want To. Im Scenekore And Its Siq! Im Bi. I <3 Pandas! I LOVE The Band Blood On The Dance Floor! Im Taken By Mah Lovely Death Reimu. I Listen To Techno, Raver, Crunkcore And Screamo. Im In A Band Called Girls Get Druged! I Party Till I Pass Out And I Fck Till I Bleed. Im Meh and Only Me I Cant Be Tamed.[/indent][/indent][/indent]

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Now this is a story all about how
My life got flipped-turned upside down
And I liked to take a minute just sit right there
And tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-Air

In west Philadelphia born and raised
On the playground is where I spent most of my days
Chillin out, maxin, relaxing all cool,
And all shooting some b-ball outside of the school
When a couple of guys who were up to no good
Started making trouble in my neighborhood
I got in one lil fight and my mom got scared
And said "You're moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air"
I Begged and pleaded with her day after day,
But she packed my suitcase and sent me on my way
She gave me a kiss and then she gave me my ticket
I put my walkman on and said I might as well kick it

First class yo this is bad
Drinking orange juice out of a champaine glass
Is this what the people of Bel-Air living like?

Hmm this might be allright
But wait I hear prissy, bourgeois and all that
Is this the type of place they should send this cool cat
I don't think so, I'll see when I get there
I hope they're prepared for the prince of Bel-Air

Well ah the plain landed and when I came out
There was a dude that looked like a cop standing there with my name
out
I aint trying to get arrested yet I just got here
I sprang with the quickness like lightning dissapeared
I whistled for a cab and when it came near
The license plate said FRESH and it had dice in the mirror
If anything I can say this cab was rare
But I thought naw forget it yo homes to Bel-Air

I pulled up to the house about 7 or 8
And I yelled to the cabby "Yo homes smell ya later"
I looked at my kingdom I was finally there
To sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel Air

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I am an American, Chicago born--Chicago, that somber city--and go at things as I have taught myself, free-style, and will make the record in my own way: first to knock, first admitted; sometimes an innocent knock, sometimes a not so innocent. But a man's character is his fate, says Heraclitus, and in the end there isn't any way to disguise the nature of the knocks by acoustical work on the door or gloving the knuckles. Everybody knows there is no fineness or accuracy of suppression; if you hold down one thing you hold down the adjoining. My own parents were not much to me, though I cared for my mother. She was simple-minded, and what I learned from her was not what she taught, but on the order of object lessons. She didn't have much to teach, poor woman. My brothers and I loved her. I speak for them both; for the elder it is safe enough; for the younger one, Georgie, I have to answer--he was born an idiot--but I'm in no need to guess, for he had a song he sang as he ran dragfooted with his stiff idiot's trot, up and down along the curl-wired fence in the backyard: Georgie Mahchy, Augie, Simey Winnie Mahchy, evwy, evwy love Mama. He was right about everyone save Winnie, Grandma Lausch's poodle, a pursy old overfed dog. Mama was Winnie's servant, as she was Grandma Lausch's. Loud-breathing and wind-breaking, she lay near the old lady's stool on a cushion embroidered with a Berber aiming a rifle at a lion. She was personally Grandma's, belonged to her suite; the rest of us were the governed, and especially Mama. Mama passed the dog's dish to Grandma, and Winnie received her food at the old lady's feet from the old lady's hands. These hands and feet were small; she wore a shriveled sort of lisle on her legs and her suppers were gray --ah, the gray of that felt, the gray despotic to souls--with pink rib- bons.

I could go on, but I shan't.

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