Lola at the Coffee House, Cafe 101

Please be advised that Bernie named himself "house donkey" and tells everyone that I did it.

That's an assertion Bernie and without supporting evidence is meaningless. We all think of Lola as a beautiful and fragrant lady of renown and estimable qualities whose radiance is sufficient to dim the sun. Not a few of us would brave a crocodile infested river for one gesture of her approval to mitigate our unworthiness to come into her presence.

Speak for yourself. Lola is at best with luminance sufficient to dim a hypernova. That's what happens when you bleach your teeth, you get high beams. Spendius, take note from Lola and see a dentist because when you smile, in all proper comparisons, your teeth makes a dry clump of black coal look shiny as a golden coin.

Be careful ID. You'll be getting stretch marks with comparisons like that.

You may pay no attention to the savage in the village but poking around an average microbe in that way is not advised to you, really,really well evolved microbe. I have the best interest for you, so care for a pas de deux? I can't promise we'll be presentable as televangelists who support themselves from the videos of protruding ribs of small kids.

Here's a cyber pas de deux.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jP3fYcCtPRQ

And that is not possible without this--

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9gz9PG3Fu0g

BTW ID--I'll have to be the geezer with the funny trousers on. I can't do the other part.

What a fortunate juxta that was eh??

One might think about it all day just in relation to the Equal Opportunities Commission.

yes

Pssssh, fine! I'll play the dame. But don't expect me to work up a sweat. Don't get any funny ideas either after the major-fall following the minor-lift.

That's the spirit, you chauvinissss...pendius.

It was Lola who reminded us that there is an abandoned and derelict old coffee-house just around the corner. Perhaps we could straighten it up, dust it off, give it a lick of paint, stick a large print of --

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Edouard_Manet_-_Olympia_-_Google_Art_Project_3.jpg

over the fireplace and one of Picasso's Ladies of Avignon in the gents and maybe we could give the upstart a run for its money. We could gossip about its clientele behind their backs and occasionally call in to check whether they are still losing ground to the zooming zeitgeist. We could be a mecca for 49ers' fans as well.

We could get a cylinder of compressed coffee beans being roasted aromas and pump it out of the front door. In the back room a range of unusual flavourings, such as rhododendron and camel dung, with which we could provide coffee from any location on earth no matter how exotic or how important it is to be known to consume.

This thread is the old one. For the new, revitalized thread, go here please.
http://able2know.org/topic/207441-70
Love, Lola

The old one is more comfy though. The new one smells like paint. Blah!

Do you think you can manage the choreography between 3.16 and 3.30 okay?

Incidentally--how much do you weigh?

I wouldn't want what Steve Martin got at the end of The Man With Two Brains.

As long as you're not drunk, don't worry spendius. I weigh light as a snow flake compared to, say, the average obese American. Snow is more of my element but for this merde, I can make an exception.

I always associate snow with posh. With leisure.

When the snow is bad enough here to feechewer on the News they first of all show the workers struggling to start their day. A montage of motorists in various embrrassing position which I needn't describe as you will have seen them all yourself. Then they will say that not everybody finds the snow a dreadful pain in the neck and cut to a hillside where kids and mums are sliding around, building snowmen and throwing snowballs. It brings tears to my eyes. That scene usually leads into a Baxter's Hearty Scotch Broth ad. showing a lovely looking housewife serving up large bowls of steaming soup to two hungry rosy-cheeked kids, and a meechy looking bloke, with some crusty farmhouse cobs of bread on the side and the window panes half covered in snow.

What about the stuffed head on the wall? Somebody has written BERNIE underneath with a thick felt tip. Quite neatly. I thought it might look cute opposite the Manet.

I nipped into the other place on my way back from KLEENUPS and they were all reading the menu again. The Commodore was in.

Somewhat resembles my younger childhood years, even if only by a tiny bit. However, it wasn't a posh life, my childhood, but never bored and was always a king among clowns. These winters I enjoy effortlessly cutting through big mountains. I further mention, there's no stopping my descension, but twice so far. Once when I was smacked good by the trunk of a tree, and another when trying to accomplish a tricky maneuver which ended me loosing my bearings and left in a flurry of snow after smashing through a dense forest of evergreens. But purely, it's all good fun and it's an avalanche of adrenaline rush. The trick to getting better at this hobby is by mimicking a child: to always get up when you fall. I'll say, if to waste at least half my life trying to conquer some stubborn cold mountains, I'd consider my life a good life.

Tell us your clip, mein schatz..