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Browsing jobs/housing in Austin, TX. Also still have to decide to what to do with my car. Really don't want to car payment, and I'm so close to paying my student loans off.

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Browsing jobs/housing in Austin, TX. Also still have to decide to what to do with my car. Really don't want to car payment, and I'm so close to paying my student loans off.

I spent the week there and I think it would be pretty hard to get by without a car.  The city is very spread out.  Public transportation is ok, but it's not great.

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I spent the week there and I think it would be pretty hard to get by without a car.  The city is very spread out.  Public transportation is ok, but it's not great.

 

Well at this point, it's more like do I spend $1500 to fix rust and some other money for other repairs (new belts etc), or sell it, and buy another car since blue book on it's only $4200 right now.

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A little on the hood, and both quarter panels. You pretty much have to cut around the entire wheel well and fabricate metal to do, hence why it's so much.

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The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.

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The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.

 

One of the greatest monologues in cinema, perhaps?

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  • Shitty Rambo changed the title to Small Talk Revival Thread
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