БАЗА-ТАКАЯ СИСТЕМА ПОСТРОЕЕК У ВОЕННЫХ И Т.П. Я ЛЮБЛЮ БАЗУ ОЛОЛО БУЙ. НАСТЯ ЛУЧШАЯ
КОГДА ОНА ЗАЙДЕТ В СЕТЬ
Я ЕЙ НАПИШУ
БЛИН
ФАК
ЗАЧЕМ Я СЮДА ЗАШЁЛ?? ЗАЧЕМ? ВСЕ НЕ ПИШУ ЖДУ
РАКУШКА
I had to control the urge to run. It wasn’t enough we were 3 points down, but our star player was also injured. It was the last chance to catch up, and maybe even beat them, but I had to be patient. Greater men before me have lost much more for their impatience.
Es ist gut, wenn die Füße auf festem Grund stehen. Wenn es kein Erdbeben, keinen Sumpf, keinen Treibsand, keine aufbrechenden Erdspalten gibt. Du stehst und bist verwurzelt. Über dir der Himmel, die Wolken, der Wind, Insekten- und Vogelschwärme, das Licht, überbordend oder winzige Punkte auf Schwarz.
The base was full. Everyone had their spot except me. I walked into the room looking like a lost puppy and was slapped in the face with a bowl full of food. The food was poison and there was a sign above it that read, “This food is poison.”
That just means i couldn’t find a place for myself. I looked for a seat. No where to be found.
“Excuse me is someone sitting there,” i asked.
“Fuck off asshole.”
Interesting response.
kevin
Eine Basis zu haben, ein zu Hause, etwas festes unter den Füßen. Ein fester Ankerpunkt, das ist unheimlich wichtig im Leben. Je fester und stabiler die Basis, desto freier und selbstbewusster kann man sich durchs Leben bewegen. Eine feste Basis ist Voraussetzung für ein freies und unabhängiges Leben.
Callie
The base was Spirit’s masterpiece, really. It functioned like Serentonia, but was much more expertly designed. Everything was underground; it was absolutely perfect. Only a select handful of individuals knew where that base could be found; Spirit knew that they could never be taken by surprise. While Serentonia was protected by walls, her troops were protected by secrecy.
This is the base of my operation–
this house cluttered with books, papers and clothes,
and memories galore. I start from this point every day and
I return to this conglomeration of my life each night.
My trees, flowers, chairs, teapots–all mine.
But I’ll share it with you.
Robin
The base of any relationship is trust. If the trust gets broken, the relationship falls apart. To have a stronger relation the trust forms the base.
Base is the place where monkey’s get shot into space. That space made your face disintegrate as if boiling water and and shotgun pellets had been launched into your face.
Kristian
The base of a structure needs to be strong to withstand all the forces coming on to it. The stability of a crane is based on the wheelbase.
vinit
Baser instincts. Base metals and base chemicals. Base as a foundation.
Jennifer Barbknecht
First. Almost Out. Second. Easy. Third. Getting closer…. Fourth. Home base. High five.
Damaris and Maria, two Time Agents, were heading back to base after a particularly weird mission involving Weeping Angels and Vashta Nerada. They teleported back to the Agency, and to their surprise, a blue box was right in front of them. A man with short, black, curly hair and a long coat, and a man with a bowtie poked their heads out of the door.
basecamp. I am at the base of my existence, ready to walk, trudge, run, sprint, up the mountain. Will I give up and return to base?
Lydie
It was a way of getting through the day. He always found himself running to classes, because he was reluctant to set his alarm clock five minutes earlier. He ran to lecture hall, plonking earphones in his ears and turning up the volume to wake himself up as he ran down the stairs (more efficient than the elevator). First base was class, second base was lunch (which he was running to again, because the dining hall was far away), third base was more class, and study room, and he wouldn’t come back to his dorm until he’d finished his homework, because he could have the wonderful feeling of his door opening to home base, everything to be done that day, done.
It wasn’t like there was anything for her there at the base anymore. Six years, and she still felt nothing. Part of her felt as if she was using the program for her education. But she didn’t know if she even wanted the education anymore. What difference did it make? She’d shot them. For what? For nothing, she shot all of those innocent people for an education. Was it worth it? She wasn’t sure, then again she wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
I stole third and ran home and now I’m feeling pretty guilty. But then again, it’s my wife and she’s a pretty good sport. “Hey, whatcha wanna do now? Anything left in that bottle? Let’s go tanning.
He takes her to the base of his operations. Really, his base turns out to be a room in an mediocre hotel in Chicago. He’s clearly not from the area and she knows too little about him and why he’s in the city to know what the fuck is going on, but she still follows him to his room. She still accepts when he slides her the hard plastic key card.
perhaps it shows my age that my first thought is of kissing; of prolonged make out sessions in the back of the car we didn’t own, the car nobody owned, kissing until the alarm we’d set went off in the driver’s peeling leather seat. we lived for the weekends, the dusky sunday mornings spent languidly, exploring each other while we could.
There was no basis for his decision. The chair simply did not fit. But there was no use in telling him that. As he reexamined the door’s frame, and tried to make the base of the old, wooden rocking chair shrink by his glare, his daughter sat behind him, holding her mother’s hand. With tears in her eyes, the mother gently places the back of her hand on his shoulder, and whispers, “It’s ok. We can store this somewhere else.” And with that, the man exhaled into his defeat, resting in his deceased father’s old chair, wondering how sometime’s life’s memories can’t fit in new spaces, only to be stored and perhaps forgotten elsewhere.
The was no basis for his decision. The chair simply did not fit. But there was no use in telling him that. As he reexamined the door’s frame, and tried to make the base of the old, wooded rocking chair shrink by his glare, his daughter sat behind him, holding her mother’s hand. With tears in her eyes, the mother gently places the back of her hand on his shoulder, and whispers, “It’s ok. We can store this somewhere else.” And with that, the man exhaled into his deceased father’s old chair, wondering how sometime’s life’s memories can’t fit, only to be stored and perhaps forgotten.
Base of operations, that will smack all the nations,
sending troops of doom,
making your soup.
Cause they are nice soliders
They will give you a shoulder.
Cry toonight but tommorw.
All your base are belong to us.
AAAAnnd i SUCK
БАЗА-ТАКАЯ СИСТЕМА ПОСТРОЕЕК У ВОЕННЫХ И Т.П. Я ЛЮБЛЮ БАЗУ ОЛОЛО БУЙ. НАСТЯ ЛУЧШАЯ
КОГДА ОНА ЗАЙДЕТ В СЕТЬ
Я ЕЙ НАПИШУ
БЛИН
ФАК
ЗАЧЕМ Я СЮДА ЗАШЁЛ?? ЗАЧЕМ? ВСЕ НЕ ПИШУ ЖДУ
I had to control the urge to run. It wasn’t enough we were 3 points down, but our star player was also injured. It was the last chance to catch up, and maybe even beat them, but I had to be patient. Greater men before me have lost much more for their impatience.
Es ist gut, wenn die Füße auf festem Grund stehen. Wenn es kein Erdbeben, keinen Sumpf, keinen Treibsand, keine aufbrechenden Erdspalten gibt. Du stehst und bist verwurzelt. Über dir der Himmel, die Wolken, der Wind, Insekten- und Vogelschwärme, das Licht, überbordend oder winzige Punkte auf Schwarz.
The base was full. Everyone had their spot except me. I walked into the room looking like a lost puppy and was slapped in the face with a bowl full of food. The food was poison and there was a sign above it that read, “This food is poison.”
That just means i couldn’t find a place for myself. I looked for a seat. No where to be found.
“Excuse me is someone sitting there,” i asked.
“Fuck off asshole.”
Interesting response.
Eine Basis zu haben, ein zu Hause, etwas festes unter den Füßen. Ein fester Ankerpunkt, das ist unheimlich wichtig im Leben. Je fester und stabiler die Basis, desto freier und selbstbewusster kann man sich durchs Leben bewegen. Eine feste Basis ist Voraussetzung für ein freies und unabhängiges Leben.
The base was Spirit’s masterpiece, really. It functioned like Serentonia, but was much more expertly designed. Everything was underground; it was absolutely perfect. Only a select handful of individuals knew where that base could be found; Spirit knew that they could never be taken by surprise. While Serentonia was protected by walls, her troops were protected by secrecy.
This is the base of my operation–
this house cluttered with books, papers and clothes,
and memories galore. I start from this point every day and
I return to this conglomeration of my life each night.
My trees, flowers, chairs, teapots–all mine.
But I’ll share it with you.
The base of any relationship is trust. If the trust gets broken, the relationship falls apart. To have a stronger relation the trust forms the base.
Base is the place where monkey’s get shot into space. That space made your face disintegrate as if boiling water and and shotgun pellets had been launched into your face.
The base of a structure needs to be strong to withstand all the forces coming on to it. The stability of a crane is based on the wheelbase.
Baser instincts. Base metals and base chemicals. Base as a foundation.
First. Almost Out. Second. Easy. Third. Getting closer…. Fourth. Home base. High five.
triangle
ball
basement
geometry
base, unlike the tip. holds everything together. stable, yet simple. or its homphone, bass. deep, pulsating beats in my ears, drum n bass, bassoon…
i think im going off topic here!! :O
The creep dealt with the combustion of the house that started from its base. He hears screaming, agonizing, wailing; he smiled.
Damaris and Maria, two Time Agents, were heading back to base after a particularly weird mission involving Weeping Angels and Vashta Nerada. They teleported back to the Agency, and to their surprise, a blue box was right in front of them. A man with short, black, curly hair and a long coat, and a man with a bowtie poked their heads out of the door.
“Oh, not again!” the Agents shouted.
bottom
structure
support
the base of our thoughts mostly linked to our everyday surroundings. family, peers, society plays a very important part in our line of thinking.
basecamp. I am at the base of my existence, ready to walk, trudge, run, sprint, up the mountain. Will I give up and return to base?
It was a way of getting through the day. He always found himself running to classes, because he was reluctant to set his alarm clock five minutes earlier. He ran to lecture hall, plonking earphones in his ears and turning up the volume to wake himself up as he ran down the stairs (more efficient than the elevator). First base was class, second base was lunch (which he was running to again, because the dining hall was far away), third base was more class, and study room, and he wouldn’t come back to his dorm until he’d finished his homework, because he could have the wonderful feeling of his door opening to home base, everything to be done that day, done.
something like foundation and its different for eveyone
running and jumping, sliding, dust hard balls cleats puff of plastic pillow what is inside
It wasn’t like there was anything for her there at the base anymore. Six years, and she still felt nothing. Part of her felt as if she was using the program for her education. But she didn’t know if she even wanted the education anymore. What difference did it make? She’d shot them. For what? For nothing, she shot all of those innocent people for an education. Was it worth it? She wasn’t sure, then again she wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
I stole third and ran home and now I’m feeling pretty guilty. But then again, it’s my wife and she’s a pretty good sport. “Hey, whatcha wanna do now? Anything left in that bottle? Let’s go tanning.
He takes her to the base of his operations. Really, his base turns out to be a room in an mediocre hotel in Chicago. He’s clearly not from the area and she knows too little about him and why he’s in the city to know what the fuck is going on, but she still follows him to his room. She still accepts when he slides her the hard plastic key card.
perhaps it shows my age that my first thought is of kissing; of prolonged make out sessions in the back of the car we didn’t own, the car nobody owned, kissing until the alarm we’d set went off in the driver’s peeling leather seat. we lived for the weekends, the dusky sunday mornings spent languidly, exploring each other while we could.
but that was then.
There was no basis for his decision. The chair simply did not fit. But there was no use in telling him that. As he reexamined the door’s frame, and tried to make the base of the old, wooden rocking chair shrink by his glare, his daughter sat behind him, holding her mother’s hand. With tears in her eyes, the mother gently places the back of her hand on his shoulder, and whispers, “It’s ok. We can store this somewhere else.” And with that, the man exhaled into his defeat, resting in his deceased father’s old chair, wondering how sometime’s life’s memories can’t fit in new spaces, only to be stored and perhaps forgotten elsewhere.
The was no basis for his decision. The chair simply did not fit. But there was no use in telling him that. As he reexamined the door’s frame, and tried to make the base of the old, wooded rocking chair shrink by his glare, his daughter sat behind him, holding her mother’s hand. With tears in her eyes, the mother gently places the back of her hand on his shoulder, and whispers, “It’s ok. We can store this somewhere else.” And with that, the man exhaled into his deceased father’s old chair, wondering how sometime’s life’s memories can’t fit, only to be stored and perhaps forgotten.
Base of operations, that will smack all the nations,
sending troops of doom,
making your soup.
Cause they are nice soliders
They will give you a shoulder.
Cry toonight but tommorw.
All your base are belong to us.
AAAAnnd i SUCK