he's talking about dolly parton with the bed peeing. she was a little kid, was poor, and her and her sisters did that to stay warm. HUGE difference. #michaeljackson
@Claudia Hermione: I'm trying to wrap my head around this one. Sure, piss would warm you up for a few minutes but then wouldn't it freeze and then you're even more fucked than before? Being cold is bad, being cold & WET is way worse. #michaeljackson
I'm trying to picture Prince singing any parts to Bad (at least as the song stands now) and my synapses are emitting a burning smell... #michaeljackson
I only remember having two marathon sessions. One was at the family estate with the dean of students' daughter. Very straightforward -- our mission was to taint every room in the house. 48 hours with a couple of naps, some jacuzzi and pool. The other, after an unintentional month-long spell of celibacy, with a go-go dancer in Ibiza. 72 hours, short naps. Here I only remember people coming in from time to time to see if we were ok and to bring us refreshments.
[Ha, didn't even try to make it sound other than Penthouse-y]
Sure, Andy, you can fuck for twelve hours without a single analytical thought, but if a woman does it ("Is this contraceptive device blocking my cervix going to stay in place if I reverse cowgirl him?") and gets knocked up, she can't get an abortion, right?
Here's the rule: Unless you are an adherent of carefree, fun, 12-hour sex for all, sans punishment, I don't ever want to hear about your cute little overlong fuckfests, hypocrite.
Oh, and P.S. The next time you write the word "soul" without the words "funky" or "Godfather of" somewhere in the same paragraph, I'm coming for blood.
And if Andrew Sullivan might deign to never again gift us with his oh so splendid analytical thoughts, I will personally hire the rent boys to keep him in a thought-free coma.
11/06/09
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I forget: was that Hemingway or Fitzgerald? #michaeljackson
10/05/09
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[Ha, didn't even try to make it sound other than Penthouse-y]
10/05/09
L’amour! Après ça,
La petite mort. Après ça,
La mort: C’est la vie!
..Your Penthouse submission inspires me to write haikus. In French, no less.
10/05/09
Ziggy Ziggy Ziggy Ziggy
Oy Oy Oy
Gezeigt was er so vertragen kann
Schon früh am Morgen fing er an
Und spät am Abend kam er heraus
Ziggy Ziggy Ziggy Ziggy
Eins Zwei, wiederholen sie bitte!
10/05/09
"Du hast gesagt dass
Du mich liebst. Aber heute,
Du sagsts noch gar nichts."
PS: We're gonna get so auf-ed for this tomfoolery..
10/05/09
"Meine Fingernägel
Frauenschwarm mit Leidenschaft
Der Mond ist mein Diakon"
Binden Sie uns mit Reifen aus gehärtetem Stahl, dieses Gedicht. Lassen Sie sich nicht die Beamten brechen unsere Atem-Bindung!
Don't worry, we're doing a public service on a dead thread. :)
10/05/09
10/05/09
Here's the rule: Unless you are an adherent of carefree, fun, 12-hour sex for all, sans punishment, I don't ever want to hear about your cute little overlong fuckfests, hypocrite.
Oh, and P.S. The next time you write the word "soul" without the words "funky" or "Godfather of" somewhere in the same paragraph, I'm coming for blood.
10/05/09
10/05/09
10/05/09
And if Andrew Sullivan might deign to never again gift us with his oh so splendid analytical thoughts, I will personally hire the rent boys to keep him in a thought-free coma.
10/05/09
10/05/09
10/05/09
10/05/09
10/05/09
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P.S. I've seen him at Results ("The Gym") in D.C.--and the man resembles nothing so much as a big hairy Baby Huey cartoon.
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