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Topic: What's up with your username?  (Read 127397 times)

positive stress

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What's up with your username? #210
I visited family a few years ago and bought my then 6y/o cousins a fancy sock puppet sheep. They called it Nuffkins, which I stole because I can't name things for shit.

The original Nuffkins is probably in a box in their parents' basement now. I'm Nuffkins now, motherfucker.
nuffkins, August 14, 2016, 07:25:40 pm

This sounds like the beginning of a very bad horror movie. You better keep that thing locked up tight

Carbon

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What's up with your username? #211
Carbon is a word most people are already familiar with before encountering me on the internet. Even if they don't know everything about carbon, they know what it is; it's not esoteric or made up. Of course what carbon is in real life is no more relevant to me than it is to you, so it's not like that identifies me in any way, but I like to think it gives a first impression that doesn't inspire hostility, and that's good enough.
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Quaniit

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What's up with your username? #212
It's a misspelling of the Inuit word Qaniit, one of their words for snow.  I was fourteen and thought this was deep.  Still use it as my handle for everything.
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jorty

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What's up with your username? #213
It's a nickname given to me by a friend about a year ago which has somehow stuck and has become what nearly all of my friends call me.
I like it a lot x:
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Lemon

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What's up with your username? #214
Do you wear Jean shorts.
jorty

jorty

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What's up with your username? #215
Do you wear Jean shorts.
Lemon, August 21, 2016, 09:52:46 am

No, unfortunately I'm a fake jorter girl. :\
Cirr Mushroom Really_Quite_Nice

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What's up with your username? #216
I did a (frankly somewhat embarrassing) stream-of-consciousness writing experiment when I was in highschool, and I've used bits of it for usernames on various websites over the years, 'Lamprey Cannon' and 'Lancashire McGee' in particular.

Lancashire McGee was wrestling with at the local foghorn, when he was struck by a notion of speeding velocity. Felled by the rapid-moving concept, Lancashire dropped into a metachloric lapse, and produced a wallaby from his prickly fingers. The complacent crew whose cameraderie forbade them to strike the stricken, or fell the fallen, proceeded instead to photograph Lancashire in assorted Tulips, and laugh with sardonic laugher at his decrepitude. The foghorn was then assaulted by a nefarious Gene Wilder, clutching in his massive hands the scripture of Barium, which is the notion that ants buy very small things in very large quantities (economy of scale). The luck of the lamprey assault cannon was with it that day, as the Gene Wilder had absolutely no affinity for creatures without faces. The Lamprey cannon was, however, seized by the amplitude of the frequency modulator, and promptly doubled over in pain. Nuclear weapons stored aboard the good ship Lollipop irradiated the shoestore salesman attempting to clamber away from the dangerous tuna fish can, but the Leopard bashful, replied in kind, with a .45 caliber round through the brain. As the salesman fell, he caught one final glimpse of his true love, the Pinball instruction manual that had guided him through the war of 104. Hours passed, and as the moment finally snapped into real motion, the Peruvians elected to reshape the concept of schtuvermitch, which is to say, the blood of the innocent children. Nothing had prepared the great mushroom for this contingency, and his spawn could only look on in horror, as a pink mist wafted over the land, carrying with it the smell of burnt paper. "Horse hair?!" shouted the hindmost of the nation of ARGUSHTONIA, cowering behind his paper towel fort, as he demanded that the bombs be placed in every place he had ever defecated. The colonel needed no further warning, as the bridge collapsed directly in front of him, and the opening arms of the cuttl'fish twirl'd to reveal a cacaphony of babysitters, all shouting at the fucking microphone that we were all going to sit at dinner with their boyfriends and pass the potatoes as we pleased. New information aside, the Doom was brought to light by a very silly man by way of a death. Only one death, and that was Death-22. Blood for toaster mittens, and the crumbs of my keyboard sting like bragshn'l glass in fingers of a midsummer night's eve, when the quilt fired mattresses howl at the moonlight in the sea of Japan. Treat sandwich was bestowed upon my cauliflower just before the young child pulled out his pancake batter, and made unhealthy of them all. Lancashire reviewed his situation, looking back on Gene Wilder, Lampreys, shoes, and absolute one (that being the temperature that is exactly one degree above zero). But the chloroform collapsed before he could dance another word, and the chamberlain crumbled into the waves, all murky pink, while the corpses of various household names drift upon the surface, mocking all light, and disparaging rumours about Ross Perot.

"Well, maybe we can get it right this time", exhumed Robert Plant as he cradled the curdling of a blood-stained calf, crying out for its mother, and slowly bleeding to death as it starved. He collapsed on his knees, and wept, as the calf too, cried out, for the love of its mother, and for the merciful death that it could never hope for.

Robert Plant cried, and the ship drifted away into the sunstream...Quote from

Note: I was listening to a lot of 'of Montreal' at the time.

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What's up with your username? #217
I did a (frankly somewhat embarrassing) stream-of-consciousness writing experiment when I was in highschool, and I've used bits of it for usernames on various websites over the years, 'Lamprey Cannon' and 'Lancashire McGee' in particular.

Lancashire McGee was wrestling with at the local foghorn, when he was struck by a notion of speeding velocity. Felled by the rapid-moving concept, Lancashire dropped into a metachloric lapse, and produced a wallaby from his prickly fingers. The complacent crew whose cameraderie forbade them to strike the stricken, or fell the fallen, proceeded instead to photograph Lancashire in assorted Tulips, and laugh with sardonic laugher at his decrepitude. The foghorn was then assaulted by a nefarious Gene Wilder, clutching in his massive hands the scripture of Barium, which is the notion that ants buy very small things in very large quantities (economy of scale). The luck of the lamprey assault cannon was with it that day, as the Gene Wilder had absolutely no affinity for creatures without faces. The Lamprey cannon was, however, seized by the amplitude of the frequency modulator, and promptly doubled over in pain. Nuclear weapons stored aboard the good ship Lollipop irradiated the shoestore salesman attempting to clamber away from the dangerous tuna fish can, but the Leopard bashful, replied in kind, with a .45 caliber round through the brain. As the salesman fell, he caught one final glimpse of his true love, the Pinball instruction manual that had guided him through the war of 104. Hours passed, and as the moment finally snapped into real motion, the Peruvians elected to reshape the concept of schtuvermitch, which is to say, the blood of the innocent children. Nothing had prepared the great mushroom for this contingency, and his spawn could only look on in horror, as a pink mist wafted over the land, carrying with it the smell of burnt paper. "Horse hair?!" shouted the hindmost of the nation of ARGUSHTONIA, cowering behind his paper towel fort, as he demanded that the bombs be placed in every place he had ever defecated. The colonel needed no further warning, as the bridge collapsed directly in front of him, and the opening arms of the cuttl'fish twirl'd to reveal a cacaphony of babysitters, all shouting at the fucking microphone that we were all going to sit at dinner with their boyfriends and pass the potatoes as we pleased. New information aside, the Doom was brought to light by a very silly man by way of a death. Only one death, and that was Death-22. Blood for toaster mittens, and the crumbs of my keyboard sting like bragshn'l glass in fingers of a midsummer night's eve, when the quilt fired mattresses howl at the moonlight in the sea of Japan. Treat sandwich was bestowed upon my cauliflower just before the young child pulled out his pancake batter, and made unhealthy of them all. Lancashire reviewed his situation, looking back on Gene Wilder, Lampreys, shoes, and absolute one (that being the temperature that is exactly one degree above zero). But the chloroform collapsed before he could dance another word, and the chamberlain crumbled into the waves, all murky pink, while the corpses of various household names drift upon the surface, mocking all light, and disparaging rumours about Ross Perot.

"Well, maybe we can get it right this time", exhumed Robert Plant as he cradled the curdling of a blood-stained calf, crying out for its mother, and slowly bleeding to death as it starved. He collapsed on his knees, and wept, as the calf too, cried out, for the love of its mother, and for the merciful death that it could never hope for.

Robert Plant cried, and the ship drifted away into the sunstream...Quote from

Note: I was listening to a lot of 'of Montreal' at the time.
LancashireMcGee, August 21, 2016, 07:31:15 pm

That's more entertaining than Michael Byc's shit.
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Vinny Possum

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What's up with your username? #218
Basically this.

chai tea latte Agent (gobble, gobble) Coop Gyro Liatai Eider Duck jorty Fanzay

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What's up with your username? #219
I'm not entirely sure exactly when I came up with mine, but I've got a theory as to how I did. Everything gets real hazy that far back.

The first game I ever actively set out to 100% was Crash Bandicoot. I don't know why. I think I was just enthralled by the series.
Around '03 or '04 I discovered webcomics near the end of high school and became engrossed with two in particular; "Mac Hall" and "Megatokyo". By the time I graduated in '05 the concept of leetspeak had made steady headway into the forefront of my subconscious.
A few years later with the purchase of the Orange Box, I found myself in need of a Steam username. Thus, 3viltiki was born via an effluvium of nostalgic placenta as 1337 speak and Crash Bandicoot's tiki mask character (Aku Aku) finally collided and merged as a gestaltian idea that came erupting out of the unholy blighted zone of cognizance that is the CRT-fried portion of my prefrontal cortex.
tl;dr - Megatokyo and Crash Bandicoot did the nasty in my subconscious and gestated a dumb username that I can't bear to rid myself of
jorty

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What's up with your username? #220
They're delicious.
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chai tea latte

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What's up with your username? #221
It stands for 'chyours truly latte' because I read Snow Crash at a formative age
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Captain Capacitor

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What's up with your username? #222


Captain of the Saucy Mare
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Nasuth

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What's up with your username? #223
YES HELLO
After being a board member for three years, you get to break my forum-posting cherry with this thread.

So mine comes from the book "The Left Hand of Darkness" by Ursula K. Le Guinn combined with my bad eyesight causing me to read it wrong all these years. The real word is "nusuth" and it means "It doesn't matter" in the native tongue of the people in that book. But I always saw it as "nasuth" for some reason, and it's stuck that way ever since. Still means the same thing in my head, tho.

Breakfast

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What's up with your username? #224
Bradypus is the genus of the three-toed sloth, evolution's most hilarious animal. Oedipus Rex is a play written by Sophocles about some motherfucker from Thebes who becomes king and then blinds himself. Put them together and you get a dumb username that made me laugh for a second.