Killing Floor Tab : Laying Laminate Flooring On Stairs : Radiant Floor Heating Hydronic

Killing Floor Tab

killing floor tab
    killing floor
  • Killing Floor is a cooperative first-person shooter video game developed and published by Tripwire Interactive. It was first released on May 14, 2009, for Microsoft Windows, and subsequently ported to the Apple Mac OS X platform, with a release on May 5, 2010.
  • "Killing Floor" is a song by American blues singer-songwriter and guitarist Howlin' Wolf, featured on his 1966 album The Real Folk Blues.
  • "Killing Floor" was the first and only single released to promote Bruce Dickinson's fifth solo studio album, The Chemical Wedding. It was released on 1998. The single failed to chart as it was only released in Japan.
  • check: the bill in a restaurant; "he asked the waiter for the check"
  • A facility in a word-processing program, or a device on a typewriter, used for advancing to a sequence of set positions in tabular work
  • yellow journalism: sensationalist journalism
  • tab key: the key on a typewriter or a word processor that causes a tabulation
killing floor tab - Nice &
Nice & Warm
Nice & Warm
Blues purists are sure to chafe at the sound of Benoit's heartfelt but eminently smooth guitar lines. Nevertheless, this 1992 debut is easily his best effort to date, an unstrained mix of Cajun, R&B, and blues stylings honed by his then-recent apprenticeship in the bars of Baton Rouge. Recorded live over a two-day period, Benoit's clean, spontaneous phrases avoid both New Age somnabulence and overheated roadhouse cliches. His extended solo at the end of "I Put a Spell on You" puts a silky, authoritative sheen on that rabble-rousing staple, and both "Bone Pickin'" and "Voodoo on the Bayou" acknowledge his Louisiana roots without ruffling the fabric of his own identity. Nice and Warm isn't perfect: Benoit's rendition of "The Killing Floor" is simply too antiseptic beside Howlin' Wolf's definitive version, and Benoit's vocals are merely passable throughout. But overall, the music here is indeed nice and warm, and played with a self-assurance that adds substance to its relaxed attitude. --Britt Robson

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Things you learn at Madres (5-31-9) #2
Things you learn at Madres (5-31-9) #2
((Photo: River says sorry to Jaina)) Jaina Lefevre sighs as she looks over. Nanny's gone. Probably sucking face with Nick out back. Yuck. She grins and climbs in the booth and sits. "I gave mine to Mommy. She put it in a glass box." She looks over at River and then looks down at her lap, shoulders sagging. "I thinks he's still mads at me." she whispers to Portia. Portia Kass looked over at the other little boy that was hovering around the diningroom.. sitting on the table actually. Portia frowned a little and leaned down to Jaina, "Who's that?" she asked her. River Grau didn't hear the whisper so continued to watch the four. At times he would look over at Jaina but tried not to be obvious at that. Wrinkling his nose, he frowned at the situation. Too many people. How was he supposed to apologize with so many people? Instead, he just stared awkwardly. Conor Nitely didn't object to Jaina joining them. There was a look shot across the restaurant as River sat, the mumbled words "scaredy cat," just barely audible before he turned back to Portia. "Only good things of course!" He wondered vaguely why Portia was repeating his words. It was simple enough really. Baking his sword. "It's blue. Manly! Not like a vase. Gonna back it a long, long time then it can kill mech things. Even Ample Cleavage if she's scary again." A puppy dog eyes look went back to Guin, tone overdramatically sad then. "Used to...have a bat...for mech things but..." he trailed off. Those pie eyes just blinking back the fake tears he tried to conjure. Jaina Lefevre sighs. "He's s'posed to be my bestest friend. But he was mean." She glances over at River and pats the seat next to her. Guinevere Fouroux lets Conor explain about the sword as she slips into the booth next to him. The look on Portia's face, like she'd lost her mind over the hearts and hands thing, is really too funny. Maybe she'd get Mudd to explain, because she'd never be able to. She turns to Conor and his sad face, and gives him a sad grin. "But he lost it, trying to help me and Rena get away from some mean mech," she fills in. "We need to get you a new one, that reminds me... " Gaze shifting to Portia, she arches a brow. "So, you're a ballerina, then? Or were?" Jelly Tremor padded into the pizza place. Not really paying attention to the others while she just ordered some breadsticks with lots of sauce and a soda. Taking the can. Damn cans. She could never open them without fingernails. Sticky hands taking the can before moving to the table River was sitting on. Plucking fruitlessly at the soda tab. River Grau looks over at Jaina, ears perking as he pats the seat next to her. Pushing off of the table, he stomps loudly as he lands on the floor and slinks over to Jaina and sits down. Leaning towards her he quickly mumbles. "Sorry for bein' mean." And hands her candy under the table. It was wrapped little candies he took from his pocket. Looking over he noticed Jelly at the table he was sitting at before and waved. Jelly Tremor let out a hissing, frustrated sigh. Respirator releasing the plumes of steam. Black pearls raising up to see River's wave. Smiling and returning it with her own. She went back to trying to open her soda can. Looking to her shortened tail. "meh...", muttering before she sat the slime covered can down on the table. Leaning back and propping her treacle covered feet in the table. Jaina Lefevre looks up at Portia. "What's a ballerina?" She glances over at River and gives him a little smile. "Thanks, River." She takes the candies and then leans over, just close enough to shoulder nudge him a little. A sorta-hug that wouldn't embarrass a guy. "Conor brushed his teeth. Mommy got shotted and I got a new bed and it's not pink." She grins at Portia. "I ain't seen her yet, so you won't get shotted yet, okay?" She offers a wave to Jelly, but she's a little creeped out by the other girl. Portia Kass looked across at the boy on the table and tried to smile encouragingly to let him know that he was welcome to join them. She then turned her attention back to Conor and the story of his blue sword. She leaned her elbow on the table and then rested her chin on her hand as she listened and her gaze drifted across to Guin when she took over telling the story. Portia remembered when Conor lost his bat. She wasn't a big fan of the whole 'violence' thing but... well a bat was better than a gun. She nodded a little at Guin, "Yes... well.. was and am. I've been in the New York City Ballet since I was 6, that's where I met Forge.. and then Forge got me the job here... But... well I'd normally be there teaching and dancing over the summer but... well I'm here instead." She watched the little scene playing out to her right and smiled a little but didn't say anything. "Conor told me that you're a
The Long Road To Woodstock---The Fourth Of July, 1969---Green Lake Park (Or Somewhere Similar)
The Long Road To Woodstock---The Fourth Of July, 1969---Green Lake Park (Or Somewhere Similar)
By the Fourth of July, I had been in Seattle a little over a month. I had done my homework, and had decided on my drug of choice. Acid was, well, acid, and it just sounded kind of dangerous. If you got it in your eyes, your eyes might rot out. Heroin and cocaine were addictive, and heroin at least required a needle, so that ruled that out. Pot and hashish, well, we had those back east, and you never knew what kind of quality you were getting until you had already parted with your money. I didn't like those options either. There was something called MDA, or MMDA, or something, what became Ecstasy later on, but even then the descriptions of it made it sound a little shaky. Cross off that option. Peyote and psilocybin sounded interesting, but finding them was difficult. That left mescaline. Organic mescaline sounded best of all ("organic" even then had a cachet), but it was hard to find, and when you took it you threw-up, which didn't sound so great. So by process of elimination, synthetic mescaline became my drug of choice. I guess I bought my tab from the cook-in-the-kitchen dealer. It's possible that the girls bought if for me. I think I was out there all day, but I waited until that evening to take it. That might have been the day that Country Joe & The Fish were supposed to give a free concert in Green Lake Park. However, they didn't show up, for whatever reason. I remember that I was lying out on the grass in the park and some guy came up to me and said he had some psilocybin gel (it looked like clear Jello) on his fingers, and if I wanted to get high I could just lick it off. I was a little too fastidious for that, so he went on to the next person. Dusk was coming on fast and the fireworks were not that far off when I finally dropped my tab. I wish I could tell you that it was the greatest experience of my life, but honestly, I don't remember much about it. It was pleasurable---I'll admit that. I was still in control, but well, it was pleasurable. What was more pleasurable was the WAIT. That was one of life's great experiences. Waiting for the drug to take hold. Not knowing when, or in what fashion, just pure waiting and anticipating. If you could bottle that and sell it, that would be a great high. I'm sure the fireworks were memorable---I just don't remember them. I was too stoned to take the bus back to my apartment, and I must not have had to be at work in the morning (I would have carefully planned the details of this momentous occasion), so the girls said they would let me crash on the floor in their living room. I don't remember a blanket, or a pillow, or anything. There was this long-haired guy, a sweet guy, perhaps a trifle effeminate, or at least not a manly-man, who hung out at the house of the two girls. He was quite open about the fact that he and the Army had parted ways because he had been found out as a homosexual. (This was not the moment in time when you wanted to be in the Army, with Viet Nam staring at you). He was going to be spending the night on the floor in the living room at the girl's house too. There was another person there that night. I wish I could remember her name, or at least get a better handle on a visual. She was a long-haired blonde, and I want to say she was of Scandinavian extraction. I think if you can call up an image of Nina van Pallandt circa "The Long Goodbye," or just get a picture in your head of your average standard-issue, long-haired blonde Swedish love goddess, you will be near enough. She too was going to be spending the night on the living room floor at the house of the two girls who were college roommates. The roommates were sleeping in their bedrooms. It was their house. At some point during the night, there was a writhing and a sighing and a pleasurable-sounding commotion, and then more pleasurable-sounding grunts and moans. The effeminate-fellow who had been kicked out of the Army for being a homosexual and the long-haired blonde Swedish love goddess were making love, right there, on the floor beside me. I was mortified, I guess, kind of like a possum is mortified I suppose, when he thinks you're going to kill him so he goes ahead and plays dead. No doubt I held my breath and attempted to disappear. Soon enough, no doubt, the mortifying activity arrived at a suitably All-American finale. Such was my Fourth-of-July, in Seattle, 1969.

killing floor tab
killing floor tab
Blues Singer
No Description Available.
Genre: Blues Music
Media Format: Compact Disk
Release Date: 3-JUN-2003

Not known for his acoustic work, Buddy Guy unplugs for a rare album-length excursion into folk blues. Continuing the rootsy, bare-bones approach that made 2001’s electric Sweet Tea (also produced by Dennis Herring) so gutsy and memorable, the guitarist gets down and dirty with 12 tracks that sound like they were recorded after hours in his living room or on his back porch. Guy’s stinging leads are still evident as is his emotive voice, but both are less flamboyant in the unplugged setting. Accompanied by spare stand-up bass and brushed drums, Guy sounds nearly possessed on covers from Skip James ("Hard Time Killing Floor"), Johnny Shines ("Moanin’ and Groanin’"), Son House ("Louise McGhee"), and John Lee Hooker ("Sally Mae") among others. It’s a low-key, low-down affair made for late nights, rainy days, and the saddest of moods. Guy is just as convincing here--arguably more so--as on his barnstorming electric albums, making Blues Singer one of the bravest and most poignant albums in his catalog. --Hal Horowitz

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