"New Moon" struck
JTEM
Now don't get me wrong, Robert Pattison isn't ugly
by any stretch of the imagination, but I just don't
"Get" the craze here...
http://www.thedeadbolt.com/images/pattinson_edward_cullen_b.jpg
No, I don't expect anyone to kick him out of bed for
eating crackers, but... well... I just don't "Get it."
If anyone can explain things, please do so.
Dennis Lewis
>
>... No, I don't expect anyone to kick him out of bed for
>eating crackers, but... well... I just don't "Get it." ...
He doesn't look like a pretty, preppy boy. If I stuck my face in his
armpit, I wouldn't be surprised if I was greeted with nature's manly
scent rather than "Cool Breeze" or something like that.
JTEM
d...@sprynet.com (Dennis Lewis) wrote:
> "JTEM" wrote:
>
> >... No, I don't expect anyone to kick him out of bed for
> >eating crackers, but... well... I just don't "Get it." ...
>
> He doesn't look like a pretty, preppy boy. If I stuck my face in his
> armpit, I wouldn't be surprised if I was greeted with nature's manly
> scent rather than "Cool Breeze" or something like that.
Somehow I don't think that it comes down to a choice in
deodorant.
And I've always liked preppy, but never had one though.
Rod Williams
> He doesn't look like a pretty, preppy boy. If I stuck my face in his
> armpit, I wouldn't be surprised if I was greeted with nature's manly
> scent rather than "Cool Breeze" or something like that.
He’s a smoker -- if you stuck your face in his armpit, you’d be
greeted with ashtray’s lousy stench.
ailuropoda melanoleuca torontonensis
> He’s a smoker -- if you stuck your face in his armpit, you’d be
> greeted with ashtray’s lousy stench.
really? I knew that kissing a smoker was like kissing a used ashtray,
but I didn't realise that malodorousness extended to the armpits.
live and learn.
manly nonsmoker panda
Lars Eighner
<57fdc952-b344-4c48...@u25g2000prh.googlegroups.com>, the
lovely and talented Rod Williams broadcast on soc.motss:
> Dennis Lewis:
>> He doesn't look like a pretty, preppy boy. If I stuck my face in his
>> armpit, I wouldn't be surprised if I was greeted with nature's manly
>> scent rather than "Cool Breeze" or something like that.
> He?s a smoker -- if you stuck your face in his armpit, you?d be
> greeted with ashtray?s lousy stench.
Ooooh! Yummy!
--
Lars Eighner <http://larseighner.com/> September 5929, 1993
308 days since Rick Warren prayed over Bush's third term.
Obama: No hope, no change, more of the same. Yes, he can, but no, he won't.
Dennis Lewis
how Robert Pattinson became *the* sex symbol for the current
incarnation of the Pepsi Generation:
>
>... If I stuck my face in his
>armpit, I wouldn't be surprised if I was greeted with nature's manly
>scent rather than "Cool Breeze" or something like that.
Bingo! Irish Central reports:
Robert Pattinson has finally revealed why he smells so bad -- it's to
put off the paparazzi. ... Remember the opening lines in Pattinson's
Vanity Fair profile, in which the reporter finds him in a smelly hotel
room with his clothes strewn all over the place? Rings through given
this latest story. ...
Arne Adolfsen
> Robert Pattinson has finally revealed why he smells so bad -- it's to
> put off the paparazzi. ...
(Irish Central?!?! Jesus, Mary and Joseph.)
Not all that long after my boyfriend (a native
Californian whose mother was half California Indian
-- Chumash, it now appears, rather than Diegueno as
was originally assumed) and I (an almost native
Californian) were denied lodgings at a motel in Fort
Bragg, California because we're homos, we decided to
take a trip to the Pacific Northwest in order to
show those homophobic California hoteliers who's
boss whether or not we can get legally married. I
wasn't thrilled about spending time in Seattle due
to family issues -- I spent two summers there as a
child (in 1962 for the World's Fair and in 1967 for
the release of "Sgt Pepper") with my father's aunt,
her immediate family, and assorted other relatives,
and I've never really recovered. Ballard in the
1960s makes Garrison Keillor's Lake Wobegon sound
like the Rome of "La Dolce Vita". Since the bf also
wanted to spend time in Vancouver I agreed.
Seattle was as provincial and
"Scandanavian-egalitarian" as I had remembered. I
didn't get much sense of that in the week I spent
there in the early 1990s when I visited Howard Faye
and took in the Seattle Film Festival, but that's
mostly because I spent most of my time at the
movies. Vancouver, on the other hand, was truly
delightful and spectacularly beautiful. I also had
one of the best Indian meals of my life there -- and
I know whereof I speak when it comes to Indian food
-- at Rubina Tandoori.
In between Seattle and Vancover, however, we decided
to explore the Olympic Peninsula for a few days. My
aunt and uncle dragged a bunch of us out there in
1967, and the farther west we drove the more
memories of it that came flooding back. The
clear-cut areas were depressing, but a lot of the
original forest cover is still there. Anyway, we
decided to spend the night at an odd B&B set in
virgin forest a mile or so from the ocean before
heading out the next day to visit a virgin
rainforest (it was unfuckingbelievably gorgeous).
We checked in and they couldn't have been more
pleasant. Hell, they didn't even try to run us
homos off their property! So we drove into town for
a surprisingly good Chinese dinner -- surprising in
that this was a town of about 2000 redneck
lumberjacks and their wimminfolks and chilin. But
the chef/owner was a Taiwanese immigrant who'd spent
a little time with his brother working at a Chinese
restaurant in the San Gabriel Valley (suburban LA)
who couldn't stand it there and moved north. He was
very nice to us -- "You not from here!" -- and made
the dishes as spicy as we wanted and comped us on
freebies.
So we went back to our room and spent a cold,
clammy, and kind of creepy night. And do you know
why? Because that little town was (cue the scary
organ music) FORKS!
The moral of this story is, I guess, fags and dykes
from California should forget about getting married
and instead spend their money on homo-friendly
vacations in Vampireland but only when smelly
Robert Pattinson is off smoking his cigarettes
somewhere else like Pensacola.
Or did I miss some of the issues involved here?
Arne
JTEM
Arne Adolfsen <adolf...@earthlink.net> wrote:
> The moral of this story is, I guess, fags and dykes
> from California should forget about getting married
> and instead spend their money on homo-friendly
> vacations in Vampireland but only when smelly
> Robert Pattinson is off smoking his cigarettes
> somewhere else like Pensacola.
>
> Or did I miss some of the issues involved here?
Gintell is a racist, preppies don't have arm pits
and... and... I dunno, but I'm sure there was
something else.
Arne Adolfsen
I have my doubts about the first two issues but I'll
withhold my opinion on the third until I know what
it is. Everything I wrote in my little story was
true, by the way, including about our two day stay
outside Forks. (This was five or six years before
the "Twilight" novels first be-mayonnaised the
panties of 13 year old girls everywhere.) The B&B
was an odd place in that it was a converted fishing
lodge about a mile from the Pacific and 10 miles
from Forks and the interior was spruced up in a sort
of Cape Cod meets the Grand Tetons way, it was
located smack dab in the middle of a damp, cold
forest of gigantic trees and dripping ferns and
loads of moss, and it had a creepy-genteel host and
hostess. Our fellow guests at the lodge were two
retired couples who are spending their sunset years
driving aimlessly from non-destination to
non-destination, never happier than when they can
stuff themselves with warm blueberry muffins at the
continental breakfast and snag another couple for
hours of bridge in the afternoons. Do they go out
sightseeing? Of course not. In the area is an
enormous temperate rainforest that has to be seen to
be believed -- ferns the size of Winnebagos? yes;
fallen trees whose trunks are 20 feet wide and 200+
feet long? yes; a raging, glacier-fed river? yes.
The closest beach is littered with the most
extraordinary driftwood I've ever seen -- huge tree
trunks sculpted into bizarre forms. But no, it's
muffins and bridge that turn these folks on.
I have to say that Forks isn't bad as far as small
towns go. Aside from two or three greasy spoons and
one "food like Mom made" coffee shop, it did have
two Chinese restaurants (the one we ate at the next
day wasn't as good as on the first night, but it
afforded the bf and me a chance to laugh to
ourselves at a quartet of church ladies at the next
booth who ordered glasses of milk to accompany their
chop suey and sweet and sour pork -- "Not too spicy,
dear".) I don't know that I could ever live in such
a small and isolated town so far from a real city.
Oh, but I'm rambling on so far away from the topic
at hand: smelly California fags who boycott states
where Robert Pattinson can't marry the cigarette
smoking paparazzo of his choice and who instead
vacation in homophobic dictatorships just for spite
and in solidarity with Pattinson. Oh, but I forgot
all that business about Ireland's premier news
source. Oh dear. Well, I'll figure out a way to
work it in.
Arne
Chris Hansen
One of the terrible things about taking public transport is that, at least in
London, you are likely to be seated near someone who smokes. Not only does
their breath reek, but their clothes exude the smell of a very old overused
ashtray.
Chris "It's horrible." Hansen
--
Chris Hansen | chris at christianphansen dot com
http://www.christianphansen.com or
http://chrishansenhome.livejournal.com
"Everything I know about being an evil cult leader,
I learned from my cat." Mike Jankulak