Sometimes, on cold nights, I like to sit in front of a cozy fire with a Tawny port and my dog, Bo, listening to Tchaikovsky’s “Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf” and roasting butter and cinnamon-stuffed Granny Smith apples. Then — if the night is clear and the mood is just right — I like to touch myself with a hank of beef jerky, or maybe even a s’more, if I happen to have scads of paper towels handy.
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And some Bactine. ‘Cause those melted marshmallows hold in the heat for a good long while after you take them out of the fire.
Or so I hear.
I’ve heard of ‘beatin’ your meat’, but really……
Tchaikovsky? God, what a faggioli.
Real men touch themselves with beef jerky while listening to *Prokofiev*.
Oh, I think you’d hear that just fine McGehee, unless you’re deaf! Err, even then you’d hear the silent scream…
You’re a sick, sick man, Jeff. I like that about you.
Yeah whatever.
Just don’t put the jerky back in the bag when you’re done. OK?
That’s grody. Are you tweaking?
A S’More?
Hey, we know what that is a code word for, don’t we?
*Prokofiev*
um, this is about the “softer” side. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved Sergei ever since I played a piano duet version of the March from “For the Love of Three Oranges” but he’s definitely and acquired taste.
and besides how can you imply someone that wrote a piece with cannons in it, isn’t a real man?
One word ….. Phoebe Kates …. Fast Times , man Fast Times … ( hope I speld her name rite …typin wit one hand and all .. ).
“Cause those melted marshmallows hold in the heat for a good long while after you take them out of the fire.”
That brought back memories of a Cub Scout marshmallow roast turned inferno when we discovered a flaming marshmallow flung from the end of a pliable stick was quite a lethal projectile. Our Den Mothers were not as delighted by the discovery.
They were only minor burns, old biddies.
That’s what I wanted … s’more jerky.
PARAPHILIAOLOGIST!!
<fx: frowns, shakes head; the soft squeak of a loose board under one rocker of the chair is heard> Shy chowsky? Ain’t that one o’ them there fuzzy dogs as howls th’ night long? If you ain’t got a shotgun, shy a rock at ’em; ain’t no point in listenin’ to ’em all night.
<fx: sighs, musing> Tawny port, eh? I recall when Linda May Whisenant come up with a bottle of that stuff her sister brought back from college down Jackson way… ’tweren’t to bad t’drink, an’ it’ll sure-fire put a load on, but if you want t’ torture informants, get ’em high on that stuff and hold back the aspirin next mornin’, heh heh.
<fx: grins> As fer th’ rest of it, sugar-cured bacon. Uncooked, o’course. Yeh heard it here first.
Regards,
Ric
Curse you, Goldstein. You made me look it up, didn’t you.
LRRH and Peter (Op.117, unpublished) ms. slightly foxed, yellow stains RH side: $250.000,00 w/provenance
Regards,
Ric
Exactly. I didn’t know what paraphilia was until I googled “cold sit cozy dog little red riding butter stuffed Granny touch hank jerky.”
Boy, this ranks right up there with Jeff’s previous post about being the manager of the Rockies and cross-dressing….dude, you need to step away from the ghayness and stop playing with your S’more…
I dunno, JWebb, sounds like it could be a fun job at first but get boring fast.
Plenty of Granny Smith apples, though.
Regards,
Ric
If you shared the port with Bo, he might thank you in a way that would obviate the use of meat products or home-made confections.
Bo knows restraint.
so while we’re talking softer things…. how’s the kittehs Ric? and are they staying dry?
Bo knows diddley squat. After restraint, of course.
Goddam, Dude, you are a trainwreck. I love you.
I stopped smearing s’mores on me. I had to chisel it off my body fur. Now I coat myself in olive oil, light myself on fire, and jump in the pool for my guests’ entertainment.
“#
Comment by The Fabulous Timbo on 6/29 @ 6:03 am #
I stopped smearing s’mores on me. I had to chisel it off my body fur. Now I coat myself in olive oil, light myself on fire, and jump in the pool for my guests’ entertainment.”
So, is your last name ‘Valdez’?
O/T, but just imagine we’re still discussing Ann Coulter. From Rob Long (NRODT):
THERAPIST’S NOTES
COURT-ORDERED
REHABILITATION FOR HATE SPEECH
PATIENT: COULTER, ANN…
Second Session:
We move to a group-encounter experience. The patient is encouraged to engage the group  consisting of a dozen participants, some clearly homosexual, others merely avid environmentalists included as “gay decoys.†Within minutes, patient has identified the decoy environmentalists, and has reduced several of them to tears. They exit angrily, leaving only the patient and eight or so homosexuals. The conversation quickly evolves into an unproductive conversation between patient and the remaining homosexuals in which all agree that the Prius is the most unattractive automobile on the road today, and that any man  homosexual or heterosexual  who drives one can be safely called a “f*g.†When reminded that the therapist himself drives a Prius in solidarity with the green movement and Planet Earth, patient and remaining homosexuals erupt into hurtful giggles. Therapist reminds homosexuals that the patient is here in therapeutic rehabilitation to learn better, less hateful and hurtful ways to communicate. “I was kidding!†shouts the patient. “I used the word as a joke!†Therapist reminds the patient that humor is often the most hateful form of communication, and is therefore best avoided. “But they use that word all the time,†she says, pointing to the homosexuals. The homosexuals agree that this is an important issue, but the truth is, they were all wondering about John Edwards anyway. Patient promises to dish over drinks. Patient and homosexuals leave together, leaving therapist in office.
No progress during this session.
Maggie, very few things around here are truly dry, but the kittens are at least not subject to flooding. So far three of them have names: Ling and Ming are black and white, Bonnie is calico (but only on one ear). SFW names for a charcoal-gray male and a tabby female solicited [yeah, right].
“Restraint” is indeed a fine thing. Collars can be useful if padded properly, but chains and manacles are best for those species able to accommodate them.
Regards,
Ric
ummm…. totally OT but it looks like a quagmire in London
Let’s see, rage over Rushdie, immodest women drinking, the first day for the new Prime Minister …
So, I wonder when Murtha will step up to the plate, declare London lost and demand British redeployment to Scotland.
London may indeed be lost. The British Justice Ministry is proposing to remove the term “prostitute” from criminal statutes. “It just wasn’t really helpful to label people” said a spokeswoman. They now want to refer to them as “persons who sell sex persistently”.
Sick puppy. Put down that pickle!
And hand me those pliers, willya?…
Beef jerky? Eeewwwwww. That is a bit rough on the tender bits. But smores. . . Nice!
If you ever need a helping hand Jeff let me know. Not that I am gay or anything, I am just willing to help out.
Honestly, I’d recommend Mahler for these kinds of special moments, Jeff.
paraphilia. Funny, I’ve never seen this word on the Cashword scratch off lottery tickets.
[…] Darleen and Mushiloon, looks like the insurgent jihadi freedom fighters are serving notice to […]
So, I wonder when Murtha will step up to the plate, declare London lost and demand British redeployment to Scotland.
Teeheehee.
Maggie, very few things around here are truly dry, but the kittens are at least not subject to flooding. So far three of them have names: Ling and Ming are black and white, Bonnie is calico (but only on one ear). SFW names for a charcoal-gray male and a tabby female solicited [yeah, right].
Sounds about like here, very wet, found out we have a leak in the roof, but no flooding. well, unless you count the local park’s pond overflowing. anyhoo, I have to see kitties before I name them. Though the “obvious” name for a gray male is Tom, or so I’ve been told.
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