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A Panzer man’s Story
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BlueBallsThePirate
- Posts: 24
- Joined: 20 Feb 2011, 14:41
- Location: Phoenix, Az
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A Panzer man’s Story
I started my Panzer career in early 2002 while playing a boot legged copy of RTCW (1.33) on a server called “Big Box”. I recall as a younger man, feeling the thrill and excitement of joining my 1st multiplayer game, carefully selecting the solider class and the Panzer as my primary weapon. I was an allied solider with a panzer and green as a well watered summer lawn as my first axis target came into sight, I took in a deep breath and fired and awaited the smoke to clear so I could assess the damage. As the smoke cleared, the only thing I noticed on my screen in solid green font were the words “you phucking noob!” ..It was a direct hit ……I giggled to myself like a little school girl and realized that I was hooked. My career as a Panzer Man was well on its way…I have panzered in the sun, in the snow, in Europe and in Africa. I have been called countless names that can fill a 200 page book (double spaced typing) yet I have continued on my quest to stop or eliminate the opposing team (quite successfully if I may add) at all cost. MY panzering career has spanned from the original Return to Castle Wolfenstein in to the current, Return to Castle Wolfenstein : Enemy Territory and it will continue onward. I am BlueBallsThePirate… I am a Panzer man… and my panzer and I have been ruining people’s fun since 2002.
The Pirates Story....
where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery.My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark.Some times he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical, summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds, pretty standard really.At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles.There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum, it's breathtaking, I suggest you try it.
where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery.My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark.Some times he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical, summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds, pretty standard really.At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles.There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum, it's breathtaking, I suggest you try it.
Re: A Panzer man’s Story
It doesn't get much gayer than this...BlueBallsThePirate wrote:I was an allied solider with a panzer and green as a well watered summer lawn
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"Was he crazy!"
"Yeah, in a very special way. An Irishman."
(Once Upon A Time In The West, 1968)
http://dr.loudness-war.info
"Was he crazy!"
"Yeah, in a very special way. An Irishman."
(Once Upon A Time In The West, 1968)
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