Expanding Pie! (see comment 5)
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Strange. I tend to think of the amount of love one can give in terms of sausage. And the more attention paid to the sausage, the more the sausage expands. When the sausage is done expanding it wants to hide. When the sausage is done hiding, it wants to curl up and go to sleep. Sometimes the sausage expands when it’s done sleeping, but that’s just because it could piss the dried mud out of an Allis-Chalmers tire tread.
I seem to recall Sullivan making similar arguments against fidelity not that long ago. This, like that, reads more like a confession than anything else. I did wrong, and rather than live up to that, lets redefine what right is.
“I tend to think of the amount of love one can give in terms of sausage.”
I have those same thoughts… but I tend to think in terms of a Haggis …
Is there something wrong with that?
Dan: You are like a kid with a new toy. That’s smurfilicious!
Al: You are simply not hardwired like the rest of us, are you? (heh)
I thought about using Margaret’s pie argument in a discussion with my wife. Then I thought about germaine things like concussions, fractures, internal injuries, gougings and general internal and external health. Then I thought I would not have that thought of that discussion anymore.
Then I bought a pie…
Al: Italian or Polish?
Al – I believe that’s called waking up with a woody, although it’s the wrong kind of woody. Some people call it whiskey dick. Why, I’ll never know.
“Al: Italian or Polish?”
Depends on the longitude Beej.
…and I used to think that sugar cream pie was my favorite, but expanding sugar cream pie? mmmmmmmm…
#2 EG: Another funny timing on a post regarding my reading. Just finished Ford’s “The Good Soldier” where, among many other themes, personal failings are raised by an individual to universal status. Total misjudgment on their part, both in novel form and real life.
If my husband doesn’t get pie at least twice a week, he gets really smurfy.
It’s amazing what you can find if you smurf the internet.
Diner: “Waiter, there’s a hair in my pie.”
Waiter: “I’m sorry, our dessert chef is from Brazil.”
“I have those same thoughts… but I tend to think in terms of a Haggis …”
But too much Scotch….you get a saggy haggis.
hey i like pie
A delayed reaction.
OT but since you all bring up pie and sausages…
Not to beat a dead horse or anything but this afternoon as I sat in the a restroom on the 30th floor of my downtown Seattle high-rise, in my usual wide stance posture, contemplating world events and whether I should eat more fiber I noticed that the ends of my feet where more or less directly below the edge of the wall on either side.. had there been another customer of similar posture and habit making use of the facilities at that moment, no doubt his toes would have been no more than one, maybe two inches from mine.. They may even have collided if we both weren’t vigilant.. A bad feeling settled over me.. I may have condemned an innocent man and made homo bathroom stall blowjob jokes about him..
But for the grace of God that not-homo could have been me..
Then again, the hands under the stall wall was pretty weird..
Haggis… Not so impressive in length.. but one great, stout, fat bastard of a sausage it most certainly is.
alpuccino – Morning wood is your friend, provided you can do a handstand so you can pee. A pneumatic press could not get those to aim down, another one of life’s mysteries. Did Mother Nature want us to pee on the ceiling?
Mother Nature intended for us to piss outdoors. It was women and their damnable ideas about bathroom etiquette that has caused this “peeing on the ceiling” mess.
I say, get a back yard……and fence it.
“If making a bathroom run involves shoes and a flashlight, you might be a redneck!”
When I was in Alaska, we had to take a handgun with us when we went outdoors to the bathroom, as opposed to a good book. But, when you are trying to drop a deuce in -30 weather, you tend to not be out there very long.
And, pissing your name into the snow is not all that fun when your piss is almost freezing before it hits the ground.
JD – Plastic. Jug. Dump it outside later.
Be prepared!
“If my husband doesn’t get pie at least twice a week, he gets really smurfy.”
Carin,
I’m not sure such an overtly sexual comment is appropriate in this thread.
JD,
I keep a 2″ CPVC elbow next to the turlet.
Al- you’ll have to teach me to be a little more nuanced. I beg forgiveness for upsetting your delicate sensibilities.
In the end, isn’t that all men really want? – a woman begging for forgiveness on occasion and pie a couple times a week. That’s not high-maintenance, is it?
Works for my husband.
“Comment by daleyrocks on 12/5 @ 3:29 pm #
JD – Plastic. Jug. Dump it outside later.”
Or even an old fasioned guzunder.
I don’t think I’ll ever drink an old fashioned again.
The love you take is equal to the love you make. At least that’s what I’ve heard.
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