Thanks, mac, my post wasn't worded very well. You're right, cav, scraps wouldn't be allowed.
Personally, if I happened across an unfinished chocolate dessert, I just might surreptitiously finish it off--but then, I'm shameless when it comes to chocolate!
Oh Diane you little devil you. I love all those Mississippi Mud things that are all thick and creamy and full of things that let's you put about 20 pounds on over the weekend and takes a year to get off.
John, sigh, I really can't eat them anymore, but I still fantasize...
Well a Fantasy can sometimes go a long way Diane and be quite fullfilling. I often have Fantasy Lite, less strain on the brain.
Fantasies are somthing I've always indulged in, sometimes living in my mind more than I should. However, the tool belts in Lola's Salon are Fantasy Lite that can be quite pleasant.
More soapbox--Old geezers who drive huge Cadillacs, expecting everyone else to get out of their way. They usually have to look through the space between the top of the steering wheel. Oh, and they wear pink plaid pants. Sorry, that's a little bitchy.
Grr...
No, you have a good "bitch" Diane. Don't bottle all that angst up. Tho you could lob a large rock at the Caddy, that would wake him up
I gotta get me a pair of those pink plaid shorts, i'd prolly look like i was riding a flamingo.
Where would you ride it to?
I believe they are generally considered more suitable for use as croquet mallets.
i put the dead ones in my fruit trees to scare away the neighbor kids.
Hmmmmmmm - I am sure there is a name for that sort of thing....
sure turns the whole human/avian thing around from "scarecrow"...
Dys, you just don't have what it takes. You need to be bow legged, skinny, married to a woman who could be your twin, always talking about "those damn kids," dents all over the Caddy, constantly mumbling about the damn pinko commies, quote Rush Limbaugh and give big time to the RNC.
Well, I don't know. Maybe you could try a pair of those pink pants on, Dys. It might work. Or work for something. Maybe it would improve your golf game. Heck, it might improve everyone's golf game. hee hee
yeppers thats me, i woulda got a divorce but the damn law says she would still be my cousin.
i tried that thar golf stuff once but they gots mad cause i was aiming that little ball at the ducks on the pond. damn near had my dinner til they runs me off.
The problem with you "guys" (at least one of 'em, problems, that is) is you're too damned social; you can't keep your drawers knotted up long enough to have a good drawn out cathertic "RANT"!!
really pisses me off
Well, we're sending missionaries into Iraq. That's the general colonial pattern: conquest, followed by smiling good-hearted people with books and medicine, followed by economic exploitation.
In other words, a good lubricant facilitates penetration.
That's it patio.........you've got it. I can rant about the missionaries. And lubricant, they will need, but then I believe they always do anyway.
Living in Florida for seven months out of the year, I have been exposed to racism in many different forms (not that there isn't plenty in Connecticut). They all are sick, but the one that really grates is a nasty comment said in a very sweet, condescending voice.
Before spending time in Florida, I hadn't realized how close to homicidal I could become. Arrrrrggghhh!
Come to think of it, all those sweet people are probably tight-ass missionaries.
when i introduced my grandmother to my friend Thomaso Antonio Pasquale DeFrancesco, she looked him in the eye and said "are you a white man or an italian?"
