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Posted by Neredbojias on 11/14/94 11:27
With neither quill nor qualm, Els quothed:
> >>> Ohhh, I'm so disappointed.
> >>
> >> Tough.
> >
> > You are so compassionate.
>
> Female characteristic.
Yeah, I know.
> >> More like "Hou dus won drink Oranjeboom wit uit spil link half?"
> >
> > Hole d'jour knows?
>
> If you can make me believe that 'hole' and 'knows' are French words,
> then it could be a French version...
It's a transatlantic dichotomy.
> [bacon]
> >>> Sometimes the man don't bring it home in time for the peak of their
> >>> appetite.
> >>
> >> Those men aren't very smart. Should never let a woman wait.
> >
> > That's what I keep telling my girlfriend but she doesn't see the light.
>
> Like how - you let her wait and she keeps insisting you're
> intelligent?
Oh har har hardy har har! The point *was* that waiting ain't good for
no one.
> > I never even knew there was "home made" pork rinds. I'll bet they're
> > better, too.
>
> Anything pre-packed has a home made version afaik.
> At least anything pre-packed originally must have been invented by
> someone, making it home made to begin with.
I think many packaged goods, like some cereals and snacks, began their
careers in factories.
> Whether they're better depends on taste really - they're a bit tougher
> and fatter.
> I can make home made crisps (chips) too, but I do prefer the
> artificially flavoured pre-packed supermarket ones :-)
Artificially-flavored vanilla wafers taste better than the natural kind.
> > Um, good point. Maybe I'll have a new door installed on my flat with
> > the "max-width" option.
>
> Will only help if you're determined to go inside your own house. What
> if you're invited into someone else's? Really, the only true solution
> is to remain conscious.
If I did that, how could I dream about Wynona Rider uninterrupted?
> >>> Who usually wears knee socks and patent leather shoes? -Young girls.
> >>> If a man wore them...
> >>
> >> http://tinyurl.com/7n6nr
> >
> > You realize that that's why the Scots lost all their wars.
>
> Afaik they didn't. They're still called Scotland, not England.
Only because England conceded the point that it would be awkward to call
the Scots Engs.
> > -They were
> > definitely under-armored in the most vulnerable places. At least the
> > boys had a nut-guard, although this was probably just a decoration to
> > distinguish them from the girls.
>
> I'd say the unguarded nuts would have been enough to be
> distinguished...
For sure, but they didn't want all the women to go around lifting up
their skirts.
> >> There are no trick questions outside the red light district.
> >> Or at least, there shouldn't be.
> >
> > Well it'd be a bit rude to walk up to a wee fair lassie and say, "What's
> > under my kilt is as hard as a stilt." Hyperbola is often the correct
> > course of action when doing your wooing.
>
> Trick question = hyperbola? <g>
Actually, a hyperbola is sort of like a flatter parabola. A parabola
may be compared to a woman's buttock when she's on top.
> >> True, but since I'm sort of house-bound by two small humanoids, I have
> >> to fake travel by visiting Amsterdam or London.
> >
> > Heck, I now consider "travelling" hopping on a shopping cart to ride the
> > downhill trail to my car parked at the supermarket.
>
> That's not travelling, that's living on the edge!
Hah, you should see me on a skateboard.
>
> [bathroom atmosphere]
> > Men don't really much notice the decor in such places. If it's got
> > something porcelain, you just sort of aim at it and proceed on from
> > there.
>
> "sort of aim at it" - that explains a lot every time I had male
> visitors :S
Men don't have the luxury of just sitting there and letting it all fall
akimbo (-except, of course, in the other expulsion mode.)
> >>>> No kidding.
> >>>
> >>> Seriously! -Aw, you're just trying to pull my leg.
> >>
> >> Sorry, hope you didn't fall over?
> >
> > Still afoot, but the panic lingers.
>
> I hope the adrenalin doesn't keep you awake at night.
Only if I stimulate it somehow.
> >>>> Not all men are like that. Some actually would like to be married for
> >>>> life.
> >>>
> >>> What on earth for? That's the same as saying "I like
> >>> liverwurst/worst/wirst and I'm not going to consume anything else for my
> >>> entire life." Wouldn't it be nice to have a pizza once in awhile, or
> >>> even a can of tuna?
> >>
> >> Marrying the right person gets you all that and more.
> >
> > Exactly. -Stew. A man needs a discrete snack every now and then just
> > to keep the appetite perky.
>
> Erm.. I disagree :-)
Of course, women always disagree. But ask them to use the same
handkerchief over again even once and it's "Oh no! - I can't do that."
> >>>> I don't think we really need dogs either.
> >>>
> >>> Oh, but we do! They provide good camouflage for those delightfully
> >>> fluidic nights I come home and don't quite make it into the house before
> >>> having to unload.
> >>
> >> You're not getting it - you don't need 'delightfully fluidic nights'
> >> that urge you to 'unload' either. Really, there is no need :-)
> >
> > And what would be a suitable alternative? -Dinner at Francois's?
>
> No! Anything but a place that starts its name with "Chez"!
> Just don't have it that fluidic. Balance the fluid and the chow so
> that you don't need the dog later.
Then I'd have to walk around half-crocked with acid indigestion.
> > Whenever I'm faced with such "delicate" questions, I ask myself "Now
> > what would my Cro-Magnon ancestors recommend?" They always respond
>
> "I ask myself [...] They always respond..."
> You refer to yourself as 'they'? How many of you are there in they?
Neredbojiasi? Oh, thousands. We like to say there's one for every
occasion, but my allies seem to conveniently vanish during more
difficult times.
> > saying you need only 3 things in life for success: a cave to shelter
> > your mortal bones, a fire to warm your basic scones, and a good club.
> > Ergo, I go clubbing.
>
> Nothing wrong with clubbing. Just make sure you leave your club at
> home, as the use of it for picking up women is frowned upon these
> days.
Uh, they usually pick themselves up. The club is for knocking them
flat.
Seriously, do you think I'd really bop a woman in the head with a big
hunk of wood whatever the affinity of each is for the other? I'm a
sensitive kind of guy, and to prove it, I shall forthwith post yon ode
to which I erstwhilely referred.
A long time ago, said ode was perfidiously purloined from my dominion
and distributed in an altered form. Despite the fact that this inferior
version offered a rather lackluster vision at best, it gained
considerable notoriety among the tea-sipping set who like to peruse
literature in small swallows. Had they read the original, however, they
undoubtedly would have choked on their pekoe for it is the real classic
and something to be remembered evermore! For your pleasure and
edification, I present simply....
To Ellen
Ellen, thy booty is to me
Like those sleazier babes of yore
Who wandered 'long a putrid sea
In wayworn skirts they waywardly wore
With backsides turned to shore.
On desperate knees I'd shake and moan
To mind the hyena's hairy face.
But naked stares did send me home
To a gory spam of grease
And the blandness of corn pone.
Lo! in yon twitching, itching niche,
A psycho calls, but do I jump?
Ah, no, my taste is for thy rump,
Which may present a piled ditch
But styled hump!
--
Neredbojias
Contrary to popular belief, it is believable.
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