nope… no insider initiation… just me.
notes from yesterday’s session
I’m a day trader… go ahead and laugh
nope… no insider initiation… just me.
notes from yesterday’s session
I’m a day trader… go ahead and laugh
Viceroy:
KMeriwetherD:
Viceroy:
KMeriwetherD:
Viceroy:
whatsyourgovt:
only the bad looking folk get classified as creepy and the same actions by a good looking person would be considered classy.
But I’m actually good-looking IRL though.
Too bad that it gets equalised on the intrawebs.
Prove it! Post a photo (obscure facial identity if desired)… do it… or hacksaw
Don’t hacksaw me, lady. I was posting here before you climbed on your first pole.
you were posting on here 17 years ago???.. no, you have only been a member for 7 years. Oh, and you’re German. Cheers! Just got done with my Bund trading session
Actually I have been here longer, but was banned once. Oh and I am just residing in Germany, I am not German.
You are trading the Bund for your PF ?
Pretty awesome. That’s a rather niche activity in which one needs to be initiated by an insider I guess…
nope… no insider initiation… just me.
notes from yesterday’s session
I’m a day trader… go ahead and laugh
I am afraid that I can’t read what you embedded.
And no ? Why would I laugh at you being a day trader ? I would be one if I had the stones, but I don’t. So I just invest instead.
If you can consistently buy low and sell high you are winning in my book. Even if it isn’t as glamorous as making markets for Morgan Stanley.
I have the stones! Yes!
I have the stones! Yes!
Literally? Figuratively? Both?
There used to be another dive bar/strip club over in Minneapolis called “22nd Avenue Station,” referred to as “the deuce deuce” by the locals. It shut down now, but in the summer of 06 I went there after a bunch of 12 PM Twins weekday games. A $6 ticket to watch a game, 3 hours of beer and then a short shot up University Avenue for some c-section scars. Long story short, I had to take a shit at the club. It was a 1 person bathroom, so no stall door. While I was in there, a drunk guy more or less broke the door off the hinges. So there I was, shitting at a strip club, staring out into the bar. If I were capable of shame, I might have felt some right there.
This