Hype Survivor Hype! Survivor 18: Glamorama DAY 7 -- Battle Royale!

[Eric Draven]

Probably Brodie because of the bipolar thing

jack is eeyore. moody *****

I love ya jackieboy! :heart:

Who the hell is moody?

 

[kypade]

good job, erz.

 

[Ronny Shade]

Wet Erz's Groin

okay

 

[Kipobe]

CLW - 151 points <--- 1st Captain

Brodie - 137 points
Erz - 50 Points
Jewhob - 30 Points
ATP - 25 points
Mr Lex Luthor - 20 Points
Spoons - 20 Points
Equint77 - 20 Points
Lackey - 20 Points
Kmack - 20 Points
Mee - 15 Points
kypade - 1 point
Imagination_13 - 1 point

Sofa - 0 points <--- Out
maxwell's demon - 0 Points <--- Out
Tsunulia - 0 points <--- Out

 

[Kipobe]

Who the hell is moody?

I'm in love with you.

I was gonna put a smiley in this post, but I didn't want you to interpret it as a joke.

:creepy:

 

[maxwell's demon]

CLW - 151 points <--- 1st Captain

Brodie - 137 points
Erz - 50 Points
Jewhob - 30 Points
ATP - 25 points
Mr Lex Luthor - 20 Points
Spoons - 20 Points
Equint77 - 20 Points
Lackey - 20 Points
Kmack - 20 Points
Mee - 15 Points
kypade - 1 point
Imagination_13 - 1 point

Sofa - 0 points <--- Out
maxwell's demon - 0 Points <--- Out
Tsunulia - 0 points <--- Out

you put me in a lady sandwich.

 

[Erzengel]

CLW - 151 points <--- 1st Captain

Brodie - 137 points
Erz - 50 Points
Jewhob - 30 Points
ATP - 25 points
Mr Lex Luthor - 20 Points
Spoons - 20 Points
Equint77 - 20 Points
Lackey - 20 Points
Kmack - 20 Points
Mee - 15 Points
kypade - 1 point
Imagination_13 - 1 point

Sofa - 0 points <--- Out
maxwell's demon - 0 Points <--- Out
Tsunulia - 0 points <--- Out

Lex, Spoons, Equint, Lack, Kmack, give me your points so we can end this. :

 

[Kipobe]

I'm ending this challenge by 7pm est tonight

Jewhob hasn't used his points yet, and it's been 24 hours, so he loses 15 points.

I need to find a way to give them to someone fairly!

 

[Erzengel]

Mini Challenge 12

Battle for JewHob's 15 Points
Entry Fee 5 points
Time Limit: TBD

 

[Kipobe]

CHALLENGE 12

15 jewhob points to whoever can post my three favorite monologues from Good Will Hunting

No entry points required (so everyone can do this)

You have to post them in the thread here one at a time.

The monologues are Sean's speech to Will on the bench

Will's speech to Sean why he didn't take the job and finally,

Will's speech to the guy in the Harvard bar he was gonna beat up.

Go! -------->

 

[Kipobe]

Technically Will's speech to the guy in the bar isn't a monologue since there's some minor exchange, but I don't care, post it anyway.

 

[kypade]

Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll give it a shot. Say I'm working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. So I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never had a problem with get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Send in the marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a ****. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number was called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some guy from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile my buddy from Southie realizes the only reason he was over there was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish to scare up oil prices so they could turn a quick buck. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And naturally they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's got to walk to the job interviews, which sucks 'cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin' 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what do I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. Why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president.

 

[kypade]

So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared ****less kid. But you're a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my ****ing life apart. You're an orphan right?
[Will nods]

 

[Erzengel]

So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared ****less kid. But you're a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my ****ing life apart. You're an orphan right?
[Will nods]
Sean: You think I know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally... I don't give a **** about all that, because you know what, I can't learn anything from you, I can't read in some ****in' book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that do you sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.

 

[Ronny Shade]

psh

 

[Erzengel]

Will: Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll give it a shot. Say I'm working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. So I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never had a problem with get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Send in the marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a ****. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number was called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some guy from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile my buddy from Southie realizes the only reason he was over there was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish to scare up oil prices so they could turn a quick buck. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And naturally they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic. So my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's got to walk to the job interviews, which sucks 'cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin' 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what do I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. Why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president.

 

[Kipobe]

So if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life's work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I'll bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. And I'd ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, "once more unto the breach dear friends." But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. And look at you... I don't see an intelligent, confident man... I see a cocky, scared ****less kid. But you're a genius Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my ****ing life apart. You're an orphan right?
[Will nods]

incomplete

 

[Lackey]

I hate that movie... Matt and Ben think they're so special.

 

[Ronny Shade]

 

[kypade]

i ave no idea

 

[Erzengel]

Of course that's your contention.
You're a first year grad student.
You just finished some Marxian
historian, Pete Garrison prob'ly, and
so naturally that's what you believe
until next month when you get to James
Lemon and get convinced that Virginia
and Pennsylvania were strongly
entrepreneurial and capitalist back in
1740. That'll last until sometime in
your second year, then you'll be in
here regurgitating Gordon Wood about
the Pre-revolutionary utopia and the
capital-forming effects of military
mobilization.


Well, as a matter of fact, I won't,
because Wood drastically underestimates
the impact of--


--"Wood drastically underestimates the
impact of social distinctions predicated
upon wealth, especially inheriated
wealth..." You got that from "Work in
Essex County," Page 421, right? Do
you have any thoughts of your own on
the subject or were you just gonna
plagerize the whole book for me?

Look, don't try to pass yourself off
as some kind of an intellect at the
expense of my friend just to impress
these girls.




The sad thing is, in about 50 years
you might start doin' some thinkin' on
your own and by then you'll realize
there are only two certainties in life.

 

[kypade]

i know

 

[kypade]

i got cut off.

and iw as guessing.

i havent seen the film

 

[Holly Goodhead]

how many times did he get you? I count 4

kypade got 1 point. i answered correctly all of his questions except for the one about the construction worker, which was Michael.

 

[Kipobe]

I hate that movie... Matt and Ben think they're so special.

But they are.

Or were