Phobias
What gives you the heebie-jeebies?
It's a bit strong to call this a phobia, but for me it's the thought of biting into a dry flannel. I've no idea why I'd ever want to or even get the opportunity to do so, seeing as I don't own one, but it makes my teeth hurt to think about it. *ewww*
Tell us what innocent things make you go pale, wobbly and send shivers down your spine.
( , Thu 10 Apr 2008, 13:34)
What gives you the heebie-jeebies?
It's a bit strong to call this a phobia, but for me it's the thought of biting into a dry flannel. I've no idea why I'd ever want to or even get the opportunity to do so, seeing as I don't own one, but it makes my teeth hurt to think about it. *ewww*
Tell us what innocent things make you go pale, wobbly and send shivers down your spine.
( , Thu 10 Apr 2008, 13:34)
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An Eye-Witness Account
We had gone for a walk in the meadow and came upon a little glade where we could sit and eat our picnic. I, having recently kept goats, had a bowl of yoghurt for me and a bowl of cream cheese for her.
They were delicious.
We were deep in conversation about the argument between Maurice Merleau-Ponty and Jean Paul Sartre - she made me laugh by suggesting that phenomenology was a pointless waste of time.
We continued to laugh and muse about French existentialism when a local arachnid settled next to her. With terror in her every nerve and fibre she ran away.
I gave chase - to her, not the eight-legged fiend.
When I happened upon her she was stretched out on a park bench next to a gentleman of the road - he kindly was providing her with sustenance in the form of a spirit based tonic and some comfort by holding her hand fast to his throbbing genitalia.
Ah, the joys of England in the Springtime.
( , Wed 16 Apr 2008, 10:19, 5 replies)
We had gone for a walk in the meadow and came upon a little glade where we could sit and eat our picnic. I, having recently kept goats, had a bowl of yoghurt for me and a bowl of cream cheese for her.
They were delicious.
We were deep in conversation about the argument between Maurice Merleau-Ponty and Jean Paul Sartre - she made me laugh by suggesting that phenomenology was a pointless waste of time.
We continued to laugh and muse about French existentialism when a local arachnid settled next to her. With terror in her every nerve and fibre she ran away.
I gave chase - to her, not the eight-legged fiend.
When I happened upon her she was stretched out on a park bench next to a gentleman of the road - he kindly was providing her with sustenance in the form of a spirit based tonic and some comfort by holding her hand fast to his throbbing genitalia.
Ah, the joys of England in the Springtime.
( , Wed 16 Apr 2008, 10:19, 5 replies)
hmmm
if you experience phenomenology as being a waste of time, is that a valid phenomenological experience?
( , Wed 16 Apr 2008, 10:27, closed)
if you experience phenomenology as being a waste of time, is that a valid phenomenological experience?
( , Wed 16 Apr 2008, 10:27, closed)
So...
Did you fall asleep with your brain open and wake up posessed by the ghost of frankspencer?
( , Wed 16 Apr 2008, 10:28, closed)
Did you fall asleep with your brain open and wake up posessed by the ghost of frankspencer?
( , Wed 16 Apr 2008, 10:28, closed)
I don't know whether to be aroused
or afeard of the gentleman of the road.
( , Wed 16 Apr 2008, 10:29, closed)
or afeard of the gentleman of the road.
( , Wed 16 Apr 2008, 10:29, closed)
An over active imagination
coupled with boredom in the face of rapidly approaching deadlines always brings about this effect in me.
( , Wed 16 Apr 2008, 10:30, closed)
coupled with boredom in the face of rapidly approaching deadlines always brings about this effect in me.
( , Wed 16 Apr 2008, 10:30, closed)
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