Everyone, Make Her Feel ComfortableFollow

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I should link the two girls sh'itting in a cup and eating it. Still more appealing that this *****.

You should actually, you giant tease.

Wow. You almost got yourself banned but good.

Awesome. You went and raised the roof on this here thread is what you did!! Rate-ups!

Btw, I'm not sure why I need the last word.

Insecurity, obviously. The same reason you seem to feel the need to communicate every simple idea with overly verbose flowery prose that makes no sense and reads like the sound of one monkey ejaculating off an endless cliff into a chasm of boundless sesquipadalian bovine ocular sockets staring at an infinite array of halogen headlights.

If I had to hazard a guess, I'd assume it has something to do either with some poor misguided authority figure with too much empathy telling you that you had some sort of talent at writing to keep you from cutting yourself in the corner exacto knife blades, or some poor slob desperate enough to flatter you to try to @#%^ you.

Bhodi probably.

Edited, Oct 29th 2007 12:22am by Smasharoo

I'm so bored of all these insult posts just going on and on. I'm going to post something different, just for myself. It is entirely irrelevant to me if it is irrelevant to everyone else here.


The lidded, globular glass cup arrives to my table, seven small red rose buds floating on the top of the just-boiled water. The interior of the lid beads with condensation. I don't touch it just yet, I just watch as a few of the outer petals unfurl ever so slowly, and start to turn pink, and then white edged, as the rose red pigments leach into the water. Very slowly the water takes on a pink tinge.

I lift the lid, let the condensation run off back down into the cup, lean over, and inhale air that smells like the best turkish delight you have ever eaten. That true Damask Rose scent, that almost no modern roses smell of, mores the pity. Why ever did rose breeders think that it was ok to lose that smell out of roses, in return for pretty colours and shapes?

I cradle the rotund cup in my hands. The heat eases the Winter chill. I cautiously sip the hot water, and the taste fills my mouth like a kiss from God. I close my eyes in complete sensual bliss, and smile and sigh happily.

How can something this amazing, this enveloping, this lush, this subtle, this sweet, arrive to me so devoid of any sin? It has no sugar, artificial flavourings, is not high in simple carbs nor high in fat. It's not alcoholic, it has no caffeine, no guarana, no ginseng, nor nicotine. It's 15 minutes of concentrated happiness, without a high, and without guilt of any kind.

The roses all leach to white, the water gets pinker and colder. The last cool water is so filled with damask rose that it's almost orgasmic. I savour the last mouthful carefully, one last deep kiss with God. I fish out one of the pale damp roses by its base, and slowly wipe it softly across my lips. Once, twice, three times. I drop it back into the cup, dip my finger in the the last dregs, and idly draw little swirls below my collarbone in rose water.

Yes. Right there in the restaurant.

Edited, Oct 29th 2007 5:41am by Aripyanfar

NEXT WEEK CAN YOU INTRODUCE US TO REJUMBUARO AND HIS FRIEND MR GAYFACE PLEASE BT?

As if I would insult a fellow Brit

I mean, of course I would insult those dirty Brits, but not RJ. He always makes me laugh. It's always the same joke, but it always works for me, so i really cant complain.

She's an Aussie and they are still getting acquainted with computers in the land down under.

The people have spoken. Katie is indeed a fat *****.