Texas Rez

Rafael

Kilograms

Alex Lifeson

*pushes BarbaMama off* It's my hill now! :smug:

Peanut butter & jelly sandwich :P

Don't worry I freaked out at first, too. xD

This mofo was buried THREE PAGES DEEP in The Lounge! :angry: Oh yes. You can tell from the look on his face that he wants someone's sex. :wink3: (Also, credit goes to my friend, Luis, for illustrating Rezzy. :wacky: ) I guess the freak accident took out both Shredder1 and Shredder2. :uhoh: ----- 17-4: “We’re On a Mission, Dammit!” “Let’s break those glass doors and get inside through there,” Tim suggested. What a stupid idea it was. “That’s the smartest thing I’ve heard all day,” I bluntly said. “Great! Then let’s do it! I’ll go find a rock,” Tim said, clearly not detecting the satire in my voice. Just as Tim was about to walk off on a rock hunt, I pulled on his shoulder. “No, Tim, I was only kidding. We’re not really going to throw a rock at the glass door and break in through there.” “Aaawww, whaaaat? Why not?” “Because I have an even better idea. Follow me.” I led Tim around the venue to the backside where the garbage dumpsters are. We weren’t too close to the dumpsters (yet) so the stench from them weren’t burning our noses (yet). We stood there as I kept my eyes focused on that backdoor, waiting for it to open. “Uuuh… Rezzy?” Tim whispered to me. “What’s this ‘better idea’ you speak of?” “Shh! Shh! Just wait,” I said, maintaining my focus on the backdoor. The door opened minutes later with an employee wearing headphones, slacks and a white polo shirt rolling a trash can out of the venue. As he stopped to place a brick down on the ground as a doorstop, I could hear him singing aloud as if nobody heard him; he was obviously oblivious to the fact that Tim and I were actually watching him sing as he was doing his job. He was too preoccupied in his own world of loud music, so Tim and I being too noisy ourselves weren’t a concern. “WHEN THE WOOORLD IS RUNNING DOOOWN, YOU MAKE THE BEST OF WHAT’S STILL AROOUND!” he loudly sang as he threw a bag of trash from the can and into the dumpster. There’s our chance, I thought. This is the Olympics and I’m representing the country of Radiohead. Rezzy Leon, making his track debut. Will he make it to the finish line alive? I kneeled down as if I was preparing myself to run a marathon. “What are you doing?” Tim said over my shoulder. With my eyes focused on the open door, I could feel Tim’s stare. “We go NOW!” I shouted as I started to make a mad dash to the open door. Those were the longest fifteen seconds of my life. I felt the wind brush through my hair and my tongue hanging out of my mouth as if I was a dog sticking my head out of a car window. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage in an attempt to jump out of my body; it was a matter of life or death! “Ugh! Wait for me, Rezzy!” I heard Tim yell from a distance. “I HATE THE FOOD I EAT!” the employee sang with his back still turned to me, keeping his attention to his garbage duties. Finally, I made it through the door and inside the venue. Wait, where’s Tim? I thought to myself as I looked behind me to see if Tim followed. Thankfully he did; I wasn’t going to wait on him for another second. We’re on a mission, dammit! He ran inside to meet up with me and stopped to catch his breath. “You… almost… left me… behind…,” Tim said as he was still trying to catch his breath. “I told you I wasn’t going to wait up for you,” I said. “No you didn’t! All you told me was ‘We go NOW!” “Hey, lower your voice, will you? I don’t want us to get caught. We’re not supposed to be in here, y’know; we’re supposed to be in Coldplay’s dressing room negotiating with the bodyguards to get your phone back.” “Fine, fine. Let’s get this shit over with.” We made our way down a hall that had its walls tagged with autographs of the musical artists and bands that performed at the Deaf Music Hall in the past like David Bowie, Björk, Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, Boards of Canada, Neutral Milk Hotel, Def Leppard, Paul McCartney, Nine Inch Nails, Pearl Jam, Beck, Lil’ Wayne… The list goes on. Unfortunately I didn’t see Radiohead’s autograph on the walls anywhere. Do I have to climb up these walls to get a glimpse of Radiohead’s autograph? I thought. Anyway, I started to realize how distracted I was becoming from looking at the walls as I heard Tim from behind me whisper-shout “Hey! I found their dressing room!” I took a few paces back and stood with Tim in front of their dressing room, staring at the laminated piece of paper that was taped on the door that read “Coldplay” in a really bold font. “I thought each member of the band had a dressing room of their own,” I said, holding my gaze at the piece of paper. “No, they don’t,” Tim said. “Ever since solo artists became a fad, bands have to share a dressing room. Besides, I’m sure the boys in Coldplay love to compliment each other’s bodies as they change in front of each other.” “I’d ask you ‘Since when did solo artists ever become a fad?’ right now, but that’s not significant; we’re on a mission, dammit!” “Right. So should we knock and see if anyone’s in there?” Ignoring Tim’s question, I pressed my ear against the door and waited to listen for any movement coming from inside the dressing room, prompting Tim to suddenly be on the lookout for any employee of the venue who may be walking down the hall. I waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. After a good five minutes or so of listening to dead silence from Coldplay’s dressing room, I finally backed away from the door. “It’s dead silent in there,” I said to Tim. “Should we knock and see if anyone’s in there anyway?” Tim suggested again. “No. I have a better idea; we try to see if the door’s unlocked.” “I don’t like that idea, Rezzy. I don’t.” “What other option do we have?” Tim shook his head and shrugged at my idea as I reached for the doorknob and took a deep breath, bracing myself for any possibilities as to what might be behind the door. My mind started to race as I could feel my hand freezing on the doorknob; What if they’re rubbing oil on each other’s bodies? What if they’re all naked comparing the size of their you-know-whats to each other? What if I ask myself another “What if” question? Finally I worked up the courage to turn the doorknob. Holy shit, it’s unlocked! Then I slowly pushed on the doorknob as the door screeched open. The sound began to irritate me, giving me the serious case of the goose bumps, equivalent to the sound of nails scratching against a chalkboard. “This door…,” I thought, “…needs some WD-40.” Continues with 17-5 here...

Wait... http://www.coldplayzone.it/component/muscol/C/4-coldplay/673-atlas.html This works. :nice: Dilemma resolved.

The links don't work for me. :(

My Bloody Valentine - "When You Sleep"

Yup! :P That's the purpose.

Release is imminent though! xD well, to ME it is

I just thought no one wanted to know that I have an Angry Birds calendar.

I have an Angry Birds calendar.

Hi Coldplay.

I don't like the idea of me grabbing one of the members of Coldplay's penis ... :confused:

Then it'd have to be moved from 'The Lounge' to the 'Coldplay' section. :|

:inquisitive:

[ame=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cLIBuuJnQHg]Beck - I Won't Be Long - YouTube[/ame]

Yeah. I know for sure we're talking about his guitar. ;)

^ I want his guitar.

I don't think Cobalt is fond on the idea of sharing a penis... especially if it's Chris'.

61318

Yep. The evidence speaks for itself. :nod:

This thread is now full of things I don't want to know. :blank: