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What's YOUR Talent?


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I used to have a room mate named Ashley...who we started calling smashley...literally EVERY time she got drunk...something got broken.  And not the ordinary, "oops, I dropped my wine glass and it broke"...we're talking...once she tripped over a sandal while going outside and ripped the entire screen door off of out house.  Another time she bent over to tie her shoe...lost her balance...fell over backwards...and sat on our small artificial Christmas tree, breaking it in half, and breaking most of the ornaments. These are only two of many occurrences.  A few year later, I read my first Alcatraz book...I immediately thought of her.

 

But for me...hhhhmmmm......my talent is...I'm really bad at telling stories.  In world, this would allow me to accidentally reveal important information that should be outside my range of knowledge.   It's bassackwards clairvoyance. 

 

example:  

 

Someone else: "How should we sneak into the enemy base?"

 

Me:  "Well, one time, my friend Ryan and I wanted to get into this party that we weren't invited to.  So, before the party started, we called my other friend Sarah.  Sarah used to live in the house where the party was taking place, but moved out last summer, because her boyfriend didn't like her living at a party house.  Which is messed up, because it's like, "What, don't you trust her.  I mean, If you trust her to go to parties without you, but don't trust her to have parties at her house, maybe you shouldn't be dating in the first place." We asked her what we should do...and she told us about a different, better party going on at a different friend's house.  She told us where the different friend's house was, but she gave the directions to my friend Ryan, not me.  So we went there, and it wasn't a party at all...it was a secret base.  I told Ryan that he got the directions wrong...but he swore that they were right.  So I say, "Well, if there his a party going on here, why can't we hear any music?  And why do the people outside look like guards and have guns?"  He said that we should just sneak in, and make sure there isn't a party going on before calling Sarah to double check the directions. I think he kind of had a crush on Sarah and would have been embarrassed to call her again, because she might think that he was a bad listener.  But...just then...it was like 11:15 pm on the dot...we saw the two guards who were watching the back door run off to help a couple of workers who had just dropped a big crate filled with stuff off the back of the truck, leaving the door completely unguarded.  So went up to the door and peeked in...and there was no party...it WAS a secret base.  You'd think that Ryan would have admitted that he made a mistake...but no...We never did get to go to a party that night.  So...anyway...what was I saying?"

 

It turns out that the back door is left unguarded at exactly 11:15 pm...

Edited by hoidhunter
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Either not knowing what to say or not having anything to say. Or if I was still mildly depressed, then I would say not having any friends. But that's not accurate. Especially looking at it from a new, non-pessimistic point of view.

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  • 3 months later...

Mine is being really bad at games, or rather having the absolute worst luck (notice: real things and really strange) or perhaps its being able to predict extremely unlikely bad things... which then happen

  • playing Texas Hold'em... thought of two hands at the start of round that would be able to beat my hand... both occur...("And the Least Valuable Player award goes to" *this* for its extreme annoying)
  • playing uno (with variant allowing us all to stack draw 2's and draw 4's for fun)... All draw fours in deck played against me...
  • again playing texas hold'em... my hand is flush... beat by royal flush...(do you know how unlikely those are)
  • playing console game... entire enemy team of twelve descend...
  • ugh hurting to much to list more...(hit hard by a card)...
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  • 4 weeks later...
On 10.11.2016 at 1:48 AM, Cryptnoch said:

Accidentally insulting people/being rude. 

When faced with a librarian I splurge random commentary that somehow is always right (and utterly tactless) thus giving my side the upper hand even while I myself am reduced to dust. 

 

We have found the living Shamefilller's Lense.

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