“Oh, there’s a word for what I feel. I guess I’m trans.”

I predict this will be quite tame compared to the rest of this thread but here you go anyway:

Our scene opens on a person with a bass guitar, practicing some sick slap bass perched upon an IKEA office chair. The player is lost in the zone, all mental facilities put to work making every strike with the thumb is accurate and powerful, and every pop of the fingers sends the strings into the fretboard with a gorgeous thwack! The sound is heavenly, a deep, rich, cutting tone- full of appropriate levels of CLANK and SNAP. The short riff being performed to a concert of no-one reaches its magnificent height, a slammingly heavy riff sounding like a funky machine gun, the bassists hands become a blur, the strings vibrate with precision and power, a glorious cacophony of ma-

kkrrmp.

Oh crap, I broke a string

I pooped my pants 🤯

“We need to talk.”

I was once driving on some back roads I was unfamiliar with. I turned a corner and didn’t realize there was a stop sign until too late and went right through the intersection. As I went through it, I turned my head to the left and noticed that a car was heading right for me. It missed me by inches.