At a family gathering that included my family and another family my conservative grandmother was speaking to other conservative grandparents. I actively tried not to listen as just the smell of the ignorance around the table they sat at was making me sick (I’m pretty sure the grandfather said, “they’re breeding like rabbits and pretty soon they’ll out number us,” “them” I assumed “they” meant Mexican-Americans but the response was, “I think he is a Muslim,” so maybe Muslims?). At one point they talked about ol’ Rush who apparently lost his radio slot in the East Bay, I’m not really sure, I can’t keep tabs on every lunatic in the media. Anyway, Sheila, I think the grandparents would probably say you’re both and whisper about your desire to ruin this country.
Once at the bar (before I met Danny, of course), I happened to strike up a conversation with a guy who said, sotto voce into my ear, as he lightly touched my hand, I can be a slut sometimes.
I invited him over for coffee. When we got to my place, I said, Cream? Sugar? He said he didn’t drink coffee. He opened my button-fly 501′s with his teeth.
I’m just saying, considering the options —sex, babies, rabbits, what have you— is not unlike an ample selection of hors d’ oeuvres at a lovely cocktail party. Sample what you like, but if one is more appealing than the other, go back for more. Sex is like a coconut shrimp: more is better. Babies? They can repeat on you. Rabbit is not bad grilled and skewered with a nice peanut dipping sauce on the side.
I always go back for more of what I like. Coconut shrimp is good. So’s rock shrimp and grits. Not so easy as an hors d’ oeuvre, but I had some at a reception at the Getty Museum in LA one night, and I went back for more.
I had a really good rabbit stew at this one bistro in Paris a long time ago.
Deron, that sweaty meringue . . . well, remember that we ate only a little bit, then set it aside to play with. For you to pour salt on, hoping it would shrivel up like a snail. For me to squirt lemon on.
Amy and I did demolish the coconut cream part of that coconut cream pie, though. That was pretty good.
We ordered it, you know, because, as Amy said to me, “Deron won’t eat it.”
People, there was this slab of coconut cream pie that Amy and I shared. And the meringue was three inches high. We ate a tiny bit, then scraped it off for Deron to mess with. Okay, for us to mess with, too.
I’d eat a coconutless cream pie. I’d eat the shit out of it. I’d eat a coconut cream pie too, just not my favorite. And meringue? Meringue can go fuck itself sweaty.
See? Now if getting a lot of what you like needs a label, I’m okay with “slut”: coffee slut, meringue slut, button fly 501 slut, coconut shrimp slut, Getty Museum slut (damn, Sheila).
I’m still in the garage, for a little while longer, Sheila. Don’t call 911. I’ve caught my breath. Had a cigarette. This is the funniest thread on C’flock for a while.
I’m confused as to whether I am a slut or a slattern.
Ask Rush Limbaugh.
I’d rather ask Joad Cressbeckler.
You think we could start a media campaign to get Limbaugh replaced with Cressbeckler?
Depends on whether ornery sells.
At a family gathering that included my family and another family my conservative grandmother was speaking to other conservative grandparents. I actively tried not to listen as just the smell of the ignorance around the table they sat at was making me sick (I’m pretty sure the grandfather said, “they’re breeding like rabbits and pretty soon they’ll out number us,” “them” I assumed “they” meant Mexican-Americans but the response was, “I think he is a Muslim,” so maybe Muslims?). At one point they talked about ol’ Rush who apparently lost his radio slot in the East Bay, I’m not really sure, I can’t keep tabs on every lunatic in the media. Anyway, Sheila, I think the grandparents would probably say you’re both and whisper about your desire to ruin this country.
Shelia, I would like to nominate the term “strumpet,” which makes me laugh to say out loud.
Also, Deron? I think maybe Cressbeckler likes the ladies (and sometimes the fellers) too much to label anyone a slut.
You’d think people who were concerned about other people breeding like rabbits would be in favor of widespread access to contraception.
Carole, I would burst out laughing if any commentator bellowed that someone was a strumpet.
Harlot. Floozy. Tart. Minx. Trollop.
Sheila, linking contraception to breeding like rabbits would require a lot of logical thinking. I’m not sure that’s where their strengths lie.
Other things they discussed:
The President’s refusal to go to prayer meetings and willingness to visit a Mosque and, while there, remove his shoes!
How you won’t be able to buy incandescent bulbs anywhere pretty soon.
Psalms.
All language is a code.
That points to nothing but our wounds.
Yes, “breeding like rabbits” does connote much much more than the simple production of numerous progeny.
Two words. Rabbit condoms.
It’s funny to hear a whore call someone a slut.
MGS nails it.
I like to have sex more than I like to have babies. I also like rabbits, but don’t have any.
Kathy, you are a treasure. You slut.
I guess I’m a slut.
Once at the bar (before I met Danny, of course), I happened to strike up a conversation with a guy who said, sotto voce into my ear, as he lightly touched my hand, I can be a slut sometimes.
I invited him over for coffee. When we got to my place, I said, Cream? Sugar? He said he didn’t drink coffee. He opened my button-fly 501′s with his teeth.
Cheers!
I wrote that before I saw Deron’s comment. Timing is code, too. There’s nothing more to see here, it’s unrelated, move along.
“I don’t drink coffee.” Code: Slut.
Wait, I’m not a slut anymore?
I’m just saying, considering the options —sex, babies, rabbits, what have you— is not unlike an ample selection of hors d’ oeuvres at a lovely cocktail party. Sample what you like, but if one is more appealing than the other, go back for more. Sex is like a coconut shrimp: more is better. Babies? They can repeat on you. Rabbit is not bad grilled and skewered with a nice peanut dipping sauce on the side.
Oh, no, Deron. Sure, you’re a slut. “I don’t drink coffee” is merely one of many slut codes.
THANK YOU!
Dipping sauce.
I always go back for more of what I like. Coconut shrimp is good. So’s rock shrimp and grits. Not so easy as an hors d’ oeuvre, but I had some at a reception at the Getty Museum in LA one night, and I went back for more.
I had a really good rabbit stew at this one bistro in Paris a long time ago.
DERON! YESSSSS!!!!!
Perhaps only slightly related. I’m still reeling from that sweaty meringue you and Amy ate and called dessert.
KHS: “Babies? They can repeat on you.”
I’m laughing so hard I can hardly type.
“Sweaty meringue.”
Oh, god, stop! You’re killing me.
I’ll say.
Deron, that sweaty meringue . . . well, remember that we ate only a little bit, then set it aside to play with. For you to pour salt on, hoping it would shrivel up like a snail. For me to squirt lemon on.
Amy and I did demolish the coconut cream part of that coconut cream pie, though. That was pretty good.
We ordered it, you know, because, as Amy said to me, “Deron won’t eat it.”
Maybe it’s a girl thing.
My eyes!
Quoting Rick quoting KHS: “Babies? They can repeat on you.”
Reminds me of when Phil posted about bending down to kiss his infant son and his son (“Bless him,” said Phil) vomiting into Phil’s mouth.
Sweaty meringue.
Danny’s favorite dessert our friend Crash made. Coconut Cream pie. Crash forgot to add the coconut.
People, there was this slab of coconut cream pie that Amy and I shared. And the meringue was three inches high. We ate a tiny bit, then scraped it off for Deron to mess with. Okay, for us to mess with, too.
Not a one of us ordered any coffee.
Sweaty meringue pie. “Sir, would you like that with or without coconut?”
Slutty meringue pie.
I’m going to die here in the garage. Expelling my last gasps of breath laughing.
When the time comes, I hope that’s how I finally go.
I’d eat a coconutless cream pie. I’d eat the shit out of it. I’d eat a coconut cream pie too, just not my favorite. And meringue? Meringue can go fuck itself sweaty.
Plain cream pie. Cream pie. Slutty cream pie.
I want the American people to pay for my slutty cream pie.
Video.
If flockers will pay for my slutty cream pie, I will post a video.
Rick, you still there in the garage? When the time comes for me, I hope it’s all slutty cream pie.
Slutty cream pie, all the way down.
Deron said “all the way down.”
Joad Cressbeckler’s Ornery Cream Pie.
We’re gonna stick it to a few whores sos’n we don’t lose our minds.
See? Now if getting a lot of what you like needs a label, I’m okay with “slut”: coffee slut, meringue slut, button fly 501 slut, coconut shrimp slut, Getty Museum slut (damn, Sheila).
Rush L can go fuck himself.
Sluts.
Scenes of this type have become common in gay and straight pornography since the turn of the 21st century.
Button fly 501 slut.
Rush Limbaugh sweaty meringue creampie.
I’m glad we’ve had this talk.
I’m still in the garage, for a little while longer, Sheila. Don’t call 911. I’ve caught my breath. Had a cigarette. This is the funniest thread on C’flock for a while.
IMHO.
Good God, Sheila! I had no idea Wiki could be that informative. The only thing missing was solid Rick Santorum joke.
Sheila? Was it Michael Smith brought a good one? My efforts to find it failed. I didn’t want to leave KHS holding the bag.
This one?
That’s the stuff! That Santorum is a laugh riot!
Also.
Alabama three way.
Ah-ee!
Jane, you ignorant…
I prefer the term trollope. With meringue on the side.