TheEssentials728Banner.
Results 1 to 6 of 6
Discuss First Sarge: A Two-fer? at the Field Reports within the The Attraction Forums. Dating Advice.; First Sarge: A Two-fer? I intended to finish reading The Game : Penetrating the Secret ...
  1. #1
    Join Date
    May 2010
    Gender:
    Age
    29
    Posts
    29
    Thanks
    0
    Thanked 0 Times in 0 Posts
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    First Sarge: A Two-fer?

    I intended to finish reading The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists, a book on Palmistry, a book on Tarot, and The 48 Ways of Power before I ever started sarging. I had wanted to get myself near perfect before I ever got out into the field, to be ready for anything that happened and to really project a powerful, charming, adventurous, well-rounded person. As of this morning, I still have a little less than a hundred pages to go in Style's book (Lisa just got out of the bathroom after the Dennis Rodman party) but nonetheless, as John Lennon said, "Life's what happens when you're busy making plans" and I ran my first two-set last night.

    It started at a coffeehouse where they have a weekly open mic; I'm a slam poet and leagues ahead of the weekly readers - I feel good about myself when I'm reciting and I look around the room and notice everyone hanging on every word coming out of my mouth. I did a new poem about love as it relates to quantum particles, an affirmation poem that I'd written trying to persuade myself into game (before I really thought of it as game, or the logistics of how to play), and a cocky funny (written well before I'd ever heard those words conjoined) poem called Mothman, which likens me to a moth and women the flame.

    It's got lines like "Drawn like a moth to a flame to the jiggle of breasts, in brassieres, abundantly, so seductively caged," and "See, she's reeling me in, like a fisher of bass - DAMN! How do those jeans contain such an ass?" and "Darlin', I got no distaste for your waist, or your countenance beholden, ensorcled by Grace, but the place that I pine for's between luscious thighs - other words would be lies, motivations disguised - just a rise doesn't measure what you've activated in me, an essence like ardor, unfettered ferality - and in reality your presence has unearthed expansion like mansions, engirthed hath been birthed..."

    As a PPUA (Poet Pick Up Artist) I'm certain it will become the strongest piece in my arsenal; I've always gotten great responses from it, put I never knew how to use it before reading The Game. Last night, a girl I hadn't seen in nearly two years, "Angie," who I'd fooled around with and nothing more, was in the audience - she laughed at all the right places (although she's definitely heard the poem before - how do you think I got her to make out with me originally?) and had her eyes fixed on me through the whole poem. There was a married woman (the spouse of the feature poet no less, who was awesome) who was definitely giving me a sultry stare as I passed her on my way back to my seat. I felt confident and knew that I had established worth with the poems, closing strongly.

    After poetry, people gather in groups and shoot the shit - I got into a three-set with Angie, this gay guy named G, and the AFC that was with Angie who never introduced himself. Having been him before, I knew exactly that's what he was; he demonstrated all the mannerisms that I realized had been my modus operandi. In actuality, I felt like I was faltering in the set. The three of them are college students and were talking about programs (particularly Women's Studies) being or potentially being cut - I floundered. What I did interject with was inane and pointless and while I didn't exactly panic, I kind of dropped out of the conversation. G excused himself and left and it was just me and Angie - the AFC seemed to disappear along with G.

    Angie and I talked and she phone-checked me, asked me if I still had the same number. I told her that I didn't. She asked for my new digits, and a voice in my head said, "That's not how phone game's supposed to work." I was going to ask her to give me a call once she plugged them in. She didn't get her phone out though - she tried for less than a second to open her tiny purse without sliding it off her shoulder, gave up and said, "Let me just give you my number. . As I pulled out my phone I glanced over my shoulder and saw Angie's AFC staring at a part of the wall which may or may not have had art on it. I gave her a call, shot the shit for another 30 seconds and said I had to get going (I actually just had to pee bad - I'd had a chai latte and two glasses of water), gave her a hug, and walked out. When I got out of the can she was gone.

    After talking to one of the guys from the open mike outside for a bit, I started driving home. About a block down from the coffeehouse is a college bar called The Freakin' Frog - they've got a very wide selection of beer and a whiskey room and generally a bunch of cute college girls hanging out. I drove past it thinking, "I should really stop in there." My thoughts and my actions are beginning to become one and the same, because I pulled into the middle turn lane and made a U-ie.

    Having parked, I did a quick shake-out and a singer's scale and walked up to the bar. The door was open, and just before I turned the corner to walk in I plied on a big old grin. Two girls were sitting at the corner of the bar, right by the door, and as I crossed the threshold I locked eyes with a girl with a Suicide Girl (SG) air about her. She had a Bettie Page haircut, tattoos on either arm, and she dressed in a pinup style in a black shirt with white polka dots. I suck at rating people, mostly because I have different preferences than most guys (Megan Fox and Paris Hilton, for example, get like a 3-4 from me just based on my perception of their personalities) but I'd personally peg the SG between 7.5 and an 8 and a 1/2.

    I broke eye contact and stood behind her at the bar. I ordered food from the bartender and started flipping through the bottled beer binder. I was listening to the set so I didn't actually read what the bar had as far as selections. Nothing the girls said seemed to give me an in or an opener, it was all girl-speak and mostly unintelligible. I glanced over at what they were drinking. The SG had a red cocktail of some kind, the friend (cute, fashionable black dress with folds that, I would learn later, revealed cleavage only if she wanted it to, rated 7-8) had a wine glass with a pink drink in it. Boom, there it was.

    "Excuse me," I interjected to the friend though there was no lull to comfortably interject, "do you drink beer?" The SG responded immediately with an "I don't (which I took as an IOI Ė I didnít neg, ďIím sorry, did I ask if you drink beer?)," but her friend did. She said her favorite was St. Pauli's Girl. I told her I'd never tried it and ordered one. I struck up a conversation with the friend and froze out SG. When I finally turned to her she looked almost relieved. Somewhere in there I mentioned that I had just come from a poetry reading - the two girls looked at each other and the friend smacked SG in the leg. Apparently SG loves poetry.

    I asked her who her favorite poets were. She listed Plath, Whitman, and someone else. I said, "Yeah, I'm about as good as them." She said, "Oh, you've heard of them?" I said speaking very clearly, "Yes, but what I said was that I was good as them." I said I could recite a poem for them and went ahead to qualify my boast. I did Mothman a second time that night, switching my gaze between both the set's eyes. Nothing else in the world existed and both thought I was reciting it for them. They were both leaning in, laughing on cue, and when I was finished, they both applauded. Their body languages changed, the initial caution had mostly dissolved. Rapport and worth in a minute and thirty second poem.

    We bullshitted. I found myself leaning into the SG and immediately fixed my posture. The more I paid attention to one, the more it seemed the other became interested. There was a moment I was talking to SG when I noticed the friend sit up and adjust her front revealing slight side of her right breast. I glanced and made eye contact, smiled, while continuing the conversation with SG.

    I looked over the tattoos on SG. She'd had a heart with a keyhole in the center with a key running through the top and bottom. I said, "You're a hopeless romantic." She smiled and agreed. I guessed, "It's the key to your heart." She looked to her friend, then to me, and said, "Yes, it means I hold the key to my own heart." She gave me her other arm saying, "You'll never guess this one." There was an hourglass with girl's face in it with a tiger roaring hovering over the timepiece. It was apparently inspired by a story, The Lady and the Tiger, which I've never heard of. I asked her for a synopsis and she said that it was open to interpretation. Trying to steer the conversation toward some overall evaluation of her, I said, "So you wear your heart on your sleeve...." She interrupted, "No, it's that I hold the key to my own heart."

    "Well," I said, "one of the things with tattoos is that even if they have personal meanings, they're open to interpretation, just like the story. And I see a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve." I'd finished eating. I excused myself to wash my hands. When I came back SG smiled. Somewhere in there I found out SG goes by "Candi," and the friend's name is "Janice." I asked if either of them smoked. Janice asked, "cigarettes," Candi asked "weed?"

    "Well, I'd meant cigarettes, but do you guys smoke weed?" I had both on me. Candi looked at Janice, hesitated, and they both responded in the negative, though Janice started giggling. "Are you sure you don't because you're damn giggly." Candi replied, "I know, right?" I excused myself for my bad habit and said I was stepping outside (can't smoke inside the Frog). I took my time, and when I walked in I used some MM and the ex-girlfriend question.

    "Listen, my friend just texted me. He's having some problems with his girlfriend. I gotta go. Let me ask you, if you were seeing a guy...." They answered typically, saying so long as it was a group environment, okay, but one-on-one was an ixnay. I played "better things to do" listening to them and nodding while also closing out my tab. When I was done, and this is probably where I went most wrong that night, I tried Mystery's line: "I've really enjoyed our conversation, what steps can we take to continue it." I said it to Janice though and not the mark. Janice responded, "Well, we're going to be at the poetry thing next Tuesday; we'll see you then."

    No shock or panic played on my face. I took it as enthusiastic to continue next Tuesday. I said, "Awesome. I'll keep my eyes peeled." Then I bid them good night. I took three steps 'round the corner, thinking, "That was awesome. But I didn't phone-close." My feet did the thinking with me and turned around; when I opened my mouth, it was poetry in its perfection. I walked back in and put my arms around both their chairs. I directed the line to the proper mark this time, keeping eye-contact: " Listen, I fully intend to be there on Tuesday, but as you can tell, sometimes life gets in the way. I would be remiss if I didn't ask: can I have your number?"

    Candi broke eye-contact with me and looked to Janice. I had wanted to do the friend test earlier but couldn't remember the semantics, so it was something I'd mentioned in passing about how you could tell they're really close. Candi looked back at me and said, "We could give you our number."
    "You share a number?" It dawned on me later that I could have cocky funnied it with, "That's cool, it takes up less memory on my phone this way." But I didn't, and she said, "yeah," and I said, "cool," as I took out my phone and took down her digits. She blushed as she told them to me. I said my goodbyes again and left.

    So. The girls don't have my number yet because I didn't get into phone game research until this morning, but I am gonna call this evening to invite them to plans I have with friends this Friday. I also think I left some confusion as to who precisely I was trying to work, which may be to my advantage in this front: I have a vibe that there's like an 80-85% chance that they would sleep together, if they haven't already, given the correct conditions. What can I do to tighten my game, and make these conditions reality?

    Thanks for bearing with what appears to be, on examination, a four-page first post. I know there's some rambling parts, but the whole of last night was a milieu of awesomeness that played into each other and I wanted to convey it all. On reflection, I'm super proud of myself I phone-closed two really cool girls (it's their number after all, neh?) on my first night playing on a lark, with no wing and without uttering a single pick-up line. I feel totally zen, on a the righteous path towards self-fulfillment and becoming the best possible me.

    Uber-thanks to Style, Mystery, Jeffries, and all other PUAGs for helping a shlub like me get onto the path to self-actualization.

    Much respect, admiration, and honest-to-God love,
    -Curlsmile



  2. #2
    Join Date
    May 2010
    Gender:
    Location
    Frankfurt
    Posts
    5
    Thanks
    0
    Thanked 0 Times in 0 Posts
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Impressed

    ce Post,, I was impressed with the PPUA Tite, and some of your lyrics were nice.. I am a spoken word artist myself, and I sort of miss that scene living here in Germany. BUt that was nice, and i have to admit, i may have to borrrow that Status of being a PPUA.. Just letting you know.. Thanks for the post... Oh and i just orderd 48 Powers of Law, I see you went the same route, so at least i know i am ordering the right material..


    QUOTE=Curlsmile;729940]I intended to finish reading [The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists[/I], a book on Palmistry, a book on Tarot, and The 48 Ways of Power before I ever started sarging. I had wanted to get myself near perfect before I ever got out into the field, to be ready for anything that happened and to really project a powerful, charming, adventurous, well-rounded person. As of this morning, I still have a little less than a hundred pages to go in Style's book (Lisa just got out of the bathroom after the Dennis Rodman party) but nonetheless, as John Lennon said, "Life's what happens when you're busy making plans" and I ran my first two-set last night.

    It started at a coffeehouse where they have a weekly open mic; I'm a slam poet and leagues ahead of the weekly readers - I feel good about myself when I'm reciting and I look around the room and notice everyone hanging on every word coming out of my mouth. I did a new poem about love as it relates to quantum particles, an affirmation poem that I'd written trying to persuade myself into game (before I really thought of it as game, or the logistics of how to play), and a cocky funny (written well before I'd ever heard those words conjoined) poem called Mothman, which likens me to a moth and women the flame.

    It's got lines like "Drawn like a moth to a flame to the jiggle of breasts, in brassieres, abundantly, so seductively caged," and "See, she's reeling me in, like a fisher of bass - DAMN! How do those jeans contain such an ass?" and "Darlin', I got no distaste for your waist, or your countenance beholden, ensorcled by Grace, but the place that I pine for's between luscious thighs - other words would be lies, motivations disguised - just a rise doesn't measure what you've activated in me, an essence like ardor, unfettered ferality - and in reality your presence has unearthed expansion like mansions, engirthed hath been birthed..."

    As a PPUA (Poet Pick Up Artist) I'm certain it will become the strongest piece in my arsenal; I've always gotten great responses from it, put I never knew how to use it before reading The Game. Last night, a girl I hadn't seen in nearly two years, "Angie," who I'd fooled around with and nothing more, was in the audience - she laughed at all the right places (although she's definitely heard the poem before - how do you think I got her to make out with me originally?) and had her eyes fixed on me through the whole poem. There was a married woman (the spouse of the feature poet no less, who was awesome) who was definitely giving me a sultry stare as I passed her on my way back to my seat. I felt confident and knew that I had established worth with the poems, closing strongly.

    After poetry, people gather in groups and shoot the shit - I got into a three-set with Angie, this gay guy named G, and the AFC that was with Angie who never introduced himself. Having been him before, I knew exactly that's what he was; he demonstrated all the mannerisms that I realized had been my modus operandi. In actuality, I felt like I was faltering in the set. The three of them are college students and were talking about programs (particularly Women's Studies) being or potentially being cut - I floundered. What I did interject with was inane and pointless and while I didn't exactly panic, I kind of dropped out of the conversation. G excused himself and left and it was just me and Angie - the AFC seemed to disappear along with G.

    Angie and I talked and she phone-checked me, asked me if I still had the same number. I told her that I didn't. She asked for my new digits, and a voice in my head said, "That's not how phone game's supposed to work." I was going to ask her to give me a call once she plugged them in. She didn't get her phone out though - she tried for less than a second to open her tiny purse without sliding it off her shoulder, gave up and said, "Let me just give you my number. . As I pulled out my phone I glanced over my shoulder and saw Angie's AFC staring at a part of the wall which may or may not have had art on it. I gave her a call, shot the shit for another 30 seconds and said I had to get going (I actually just had to pee bad - I'd had a chai latte and two glasses of water), gave her a hug, and walked out. When I got out of the can she was gone.

    After talking to one of the guys from the open mike outside for a bit, I started driving home. About a block down from the coffeehouse is a college bar called The Freakin' Frog - they've got a very wide selection of beer and a whiskey room and generally a bunch of cute college girls hanging out. I drove past it thinking, "I should really stop in there." My thoughts and my actions are beginning to become one and the same, because I pulled into the middle turn lane and made a U-ie.

    Having parked, I did a quick shake-out and a singer's scale and walked up to the bar. The door was open, and just before I turned the corner to walk in I plied on a big old grin. Two girls were sitting at the corner of the bar, right by the door, and as I crossed the threshold I locked eyes with a girl with a Suicide Girl (SG) air about her. She had a Bettie Page haircut, tattoos on either arm, and she dressed in a pinup style in a black shirt with white polka dots. I suck at rating people, mostly because I have different preferences than most guys (Megan Fox and Paris Hilton, for example, get like a 3-4 from me just based on my perception of their personalities) but I'd personally peg the SG between 7.5 and an 8 and a 1/2.

    I broke eye contact and stood behind her at the bar. I ordered food from the bartender and started flipping through the bottled beer binder. I was listening to the set so I didn't actually read what the bar had as far as selections. Nothing the girls said seemed to give me an in or an opener, it was all girl-speak and mostly unintelligible. I glanced over at what they were drinking. The SG had a red cocktail of some kind, the friend (cute, fashionable black dress with folds that, I would learn later, revealed cleavage only if she wanted it to, rated 7-8) had a wine glass with a pink drink in it. Boom, there it was.

    "Excuse me," I interjected to the friend though there was no lull to comfortably interject, "do you drink beer?" The SG responded immediately with an "I don't (which I took as an IOI Ė I didnít neg, ďIím sorry, did I ask if you drink beer?)," but her friend did. She said her favorite was St. Pauli's Girl. I told her I'd never tried it and ordered one. I struck up a conversation with the friend and froze out SG. When I finally turned to her she looked almost relieved. Somewhere in there I mentioned that I had just come from a poetry reading - the two girls looked at each other and the friend smacked SG in the leg. Apparently SG loves poetry.

    I asked her who her favorite poets were. She listed Plath, Whitman, and someone else. I said, "Yeah, I'm about as good as them." She said, "Oh, you've heard of them?" I said speaking very clearly, "Yes, but what I said was that I was good as them." I said I could recite a poem for them and went ahead to qualify my boast. I did Mothman a second time that night, switching my gaze between both the set's eyes. Nothing else in the world existed and both thought I was reciting it for them. They were both leaning in, laughing on cue, and when I was finished, they both applauded. Their body languages changed, the initial caution had mostly dissolved. Rapport and worth in a minute and thirty second poem.

    We bullshitted. I found myself leaning into the SG and immediately fixed my posture. The more I paid attention to one, the more it seemed the other became interested. There was a moment I was talking to SG when I noticed the friend sit up and adjust her front revealing slight side of her right breast. I glanced and made eye contact, smiled, while continuing the conversation with SG.

    I looked over the tattoos on SG. She'd had a heart with a keyhole in the center with a key running through the top and bottom. I said, "You're a hopeless romantic." She smiled and agreed. I guessed, "It's the key to your heart." She looked to her friend, then to me, and said, "Yes, it means I hold the key to my own heart." She gave me her other arm saying, "You'll never guess this one." There was an hourglass with girl's face in it with a tiger roaring hovering over the timepiece. It was apparently inspired by a story, The Lady and the Tiger, which I've never heard of. I asked her for a synopsis and she said that it was open to interpretation. Trying to steer the conversation toward some overall evaluation of her, I said, "So you wear your heart on your sleeve...." She interrupted, "No, it's that I hold the key to my own heart."

    "Well," I said, "one of the things with tattoos is that even if they have personal meanings, they're open to interpretation, just like the story. And I see a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve." I'd finished eating. I excused myself to wash my hands. When I came back SG smiled. Somewhere in there I found out SG goes by "Candi," and the friend's name is "Janice." I asked if either of them smoked. Janice asked, "cigarettes," Candi asked "weed?"

    "Well, I'd meant cigarettes, but do you guys smoke weed?" I had both on me. Candi looked at Janice, hesitated, and they both responded in the negative, though Janice started giggling. "Are you sure you don't because you're damn giggly." Candi replied, "I know, right?" I excused myself for my bad habit and said I was stepping outside (can't smoke inside the Frog). I took my time, and when I walked in I used some MM and the ex-girlfriend question.

    "Listen, my friend just texted me. He's having some problems with his girlfriend. I gotta go. Let me ask you, if you were seeing a guy...." They answered typically, saying so long as it was a group environment, okay, but one-on-one was an ixnay. I played "better things to do" listening to them and nodding while also closing out my tab. When I was done, and this is probably where I went most wrong that night, I tried Mystery's line: "I've really enjoyed our conversation, what steps can we take to continue it." I said it to Janice though and not the mark. Janice responded, "Well, we're going to be at the poetry thing next Tuesday; we'll see you then."

    No shock or panic played on my face. I took it as enthusiastic to continue next Tuesday. I said, "Awesome. I'll keep my eyes peeled." Then I bid them good night. I took three steps 'round the corner, thinking, "That was awesome. But I didn't phone-close." My feet did the thinking with me and turned around; when I opened my mouth, it was poetry in its perfection. I walked back in and put my arms around both their chairs. I directed the line to the proper mark this time, keeping eye-contact: " Listen, I fully intend to be there on Tuesday, but as you can tell, sometimes life gets in the way. I would be remiss if I didn't ask: can I have your number?"

    Candi broke eye-contact with me and looked to Janice. I had wanted to do the friend test earlier but couldn't remember the semantics, so it was something I'd mentioned in passing about how you could tell they're really close. Candi looked back at me and said, "We could give you our number."
    "You share a number?" It dawned on me later that I could have cocky funnied it with, "That's cool, it takes up less memory on my phone this way." But I didn't, and she said, "yeah," and I said, "cool," as I took out my phone and took down her digits. She blushed as she told them to me. I said my goodbyes again and left.

    So. The girls don't have my number yet because I didn't get into phone game research until this morning, but I am gonna call this evening to invite them to plans I have with friends this Friday. I also think I left some confusion as to who precisely I was trying to work, which may be to my advantage in this front: I have a vibe that there's like an 80-85% chance that they would sleep together, if they haven't already, given the correct conditions. What can I do to tighten my game, and make these conditions reality?

    Thanks for bearing with what appears to be, on examination, a four-page first post. I know there's some rambling parts, but the whole of last night was a milieu of awesomeness that played into each other and I wanted to convey it all. On reflection, I'm super proud of myself I phone-closed two really cool girls (it's their number after all, neh?) on my first night playing on a lark, with no wing and without uttering a single pick-up line. I feel totally zen, on a the righteous path towards self-fulfillment and becoming the best possible me.

    Uber-thanks to Style, Mystery, Jeffries, and all other PUAGs for helping a shlub like me get onto the path to self-actualization.

    Much respect, admiration, and honest-to-God love,
    -Curlsmile[/QUOTE]

  3. #3
    Join Date
    May 2010
    Gender:
    Age
    29
    Posts
    29
    Thanks
    0
    Thanked 0 Times in 0 Posts
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Thanks

    much Rhino - feel free to use the title. Just something that occurred to me - every player's got to distinct themselves somehow, and some cross-over is just gonna happen. Ain't no toes to be stepped on when there's an ocean between us anyway. The 48 Ways of Power, Style'd mentioned was an essential read, so I thought I'd better essentially read it. Cheer bro.

  4. #4
    Join Date
    May 2009
    Gender:
    Age
    26
    Posts
    176
    Thanks
    0
    Thanked 0 Times in 0 Posts
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    props to u bro!!


    fist to the heart and my voice says "respect"

  5. #5
    Join Date
    Mar 2010
    Gender:
    Age
    32
    Posts
    446
    Thanks
    0
    Thanked 0 Times in 0 Posts
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Quote Originally Posted by Curlsmile View Post
    I intended to finish reading The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists, a book on Palmistry, a book on Tarot, and The 48 Ways of Power before I ever started sarging. I had wanted to get myself near perfect before I ever got out into the field, to be ready for anything that happened and to really project a powerful, charming, adventurous, well-rounded person.

    Honestly, none of these books are useful in a practical way. You will not be near perfect by reading anything. You will get near-perfect by going into the field and failing, a lot. Sounds like you had a great night, glad you are off to a good start.

  6. #6
    Join Date
    Mar 2007
    Gender:
    Location
    Lompoc, CA
    Age
    34
    Posts
    107
    Thanks
    0
    Thanked 0 Times in 0 Posts
    Mentioned
    0 Post(s)
    Tagged
    0 Thread(s)

    Quote Originally Posted by The Modern View Post
    Honestly, none of these books are useful in a practical way. You will not be near perfect by reading anything. You will get near-perfect by going into the field and failing, a lot. Sounds like you had a great night, glad you are off to a good start.
    I was just about to say the EXACT same thing. I just stopped reading after seeing your first few lines about forcing yourself to read all that stuff before even STARTING.

    Stop lying to yourself everyone. The TRUTH is, real life situations are worth 10x more than any book will ever be. Read 10%, practice 90%, that's the only way to become confident. And you don't have to go clubbing every night to practice. That cute girl in your class? Talk to her. Waiting in line for lunch? Look around for people to talk to. Just talk. Girls, guys, senior citizens, fat chicks. All day every day.

Similar Threads

  1. Looking for a PUA fer Sarging in MI
    By riverpoet in forum MI - Michigan Lair
    Replies: 0
    Last Post: 05-28-2009, 12:24 PM
  2. I checked fer bf killers...
    By DanaBoy in forum Newbie Discussion Forum
    Replies: 6
    Last Post: 11-09-2008, 11:23 AM
  3. Replies: 4
    Last Post: 08-13-2008, 04:12 AM
  4. My name is Fer
    By Feraps in forum Newbie Discussion Forum
    Replies: 0
    Last Post: 07-13-2008, 12:43 PM
  5. Airlie Beach Sarge /Noosa Sarge (looking for Wingmen)
    By Tonvanvoorden in forum Brisbane Lair (& Area)
    Replies: 0
    Last Post: 09-21-2007, 05:35 PM

Tags for this Thread

Bookmarks

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  • Forum Rules



Facebook  Twitter