This is dopey, but hear I go.
When I listen to NPR, and the reporter says “This is Carl Kasell” (for example) I ALWAYS say “Hi Carl” (or whomever) back to the radio. But only if they say “This is…”
Told you it was dopey.
The bunny ends are MINE. Even if you are a Hot Doper Babe.
Get your grubby mitts off MY butt bread.
The duck bread is MINE folks, and I am not afraid to fight for it!
I think it is neat that we all have different words for it though!
Just you wait. Next time you come up here for a TronnaDope, we will distract you by filling your plate with chocolate, and then we will make off with all the bunny ends.
My family started calling it ‘the bunny end’ because it was like a bun, hence ‘bunny’.
You know, I might be willing to share in exchange for chocolate! 
We called it duck bread because most people kept the end pieces to feed to the ducks.
Some of this is old, some new.
I have no cleavage pictures to share with anyone – never really had the urge to say to the wife, “Hey, [wife], mind if I take a picture of your ridiculous cleavage?” Cuz, y’know, it’s there.
I say this not to disappoint but because I expect at least half (probably 75 percent) the views of this thread are of people loading it to get those boob shots back on-screen. (And on that note, I’ve never seen boobs I couldn’t enjoy. “They’re too [whatever]” is just that to me: whatever. So long as they belong to an adult, they’re fine by me.)
Had I not gotten serious with the now-wife, I would probably have tried to join the military as a sniper. I have above-average eyesight, I can go without human interaction for a while, and I will eat pretty much anything. Also, I have an essentially unparalleled eye for detail when I must.
That eye for detail means I have picked out every error in this thread. And in pretty much every other thread, not to mention most other things I’ve read, since I got here. (I had “ANd in pretty” and had to correct the N before I could go on with the rest of the sentence.)
I can consider, as intellectual exercise, some pretty heinous things in a procedural way. I would never do any of them, but looking at the schematics fascinates me. However, because this has become the case since my mind kind of broke (psychosis, and nothing you need to worry about), it is reversible – with a (prescription) drug I don’t want to have to pay for.
Because of that psychosis, I have occasional fears that I’ll have a brain fart and vote for McCain and/or Cornyn this fall. I have to reassure myself that won’t happen.
On my wedding day, I kept seeing myself leave the now-wife at the (secular) altar. I got through that by seeing things after I’d said yes.
I’m a big fan of looking at the menu even after you’ve decided what you’ll have. That applies especially thoroughly outside of restaurants.
Part of my hatred of Country music is that so many people who listen to it wouldn’t care for me if they knew a few very basic, yet well-hidden things about me. (I’m openly and flamingly bisexual when it’s safe to be, but I can play straight very, very convincingly.) Part of my rejection of most modern music is wanting to scorn the stuff of choice of people I haven’t interacted with in between nine and 13 years.
When I watch videos, especially of favorable sports outcomes, I am forever worried that, through some scifi glitch, the outcome is going to change. For this reason, I don’t watch footage of the last two Super Bowls much.
I used to post topless (male) pictures here and flirt with everything that typed because I was a social outcast up until about nine years ago, then again for two years in my early 20s. Were I unmarried (and not, as per an above confession, in the military), I’d probably be doing the same thing now.
If I woke up tomorrow and was in a different state/country with a different job (that I could do), I’d care basically only about:
If the wife was still there; if our stuff had gotten moved; if I wasn’t still expected to show up at my old job; not being in mortal danger.
This is not because I dislike my job (really, the only bad thing about it is one of my co-workers) but because doing one thing for a while, no matter how exotic it is, gets boring. I have to change it in small ways (or it has to change in small ways) to keep it fresh or I just. stop. caring.
Along those lines, I think my ideal job would be teaching very, very poor children, probably in a nation whose official or majority language has nothing to do with English, because it would be so challenging that my life would become learning that language well enough to teach it to kids whose relatives spoke it fluently. And if I weren’t married, I probably would have tried to get such a job.
And if I had gotten one, I would probably maintain no more than spartan contact with anyone I knew beforehand. I’ve moved so much and been away from people so much that I really don’t care about seeing them. Ever again.
If I woke up tomorrow and nudity had suddenly become the rule rather than the exception, I’d have no complaints – not because OMG BOOBIES but because fuck it, it’s just skin. I’m more comfortable in less than more, but more is the office/society rule.
I’m not sorry when people die unless I had something to do with it. I feel for the survivors (unless they’re not worth feeling for), but sorrow? Misery, perhaps, but not sorrow. Similarly, when someone reasonably close to me dies, I don’t want pity or sorrow. Just let me be. I’ll let you know if I want your ear/eyes.
I used to love the Pit, arguing etc. Then a kid (not quite 19) who’d been one of my favorite debating opponents, and one of my favorite co-workers, up and died. Since then, the desire’s just not there. I’d rather find things I can agree with people on than stir up old issues again.
The first time every day that I load the board or MPSIMS, I feel bad for not re-upping before David Simmons died so I could say goodbye to him.
I am not over anything significant that’s happened in my life. Not failed relationships, not shitty treatment from people who knew better. I bear grudges from when I was 6, and even my newfound mellowness can’t remove that part of me.
The best way to torture me would be to get me drunk. And it wouldn’t take much.
If I don’t want to visibly react to something, I won’t. Sometimes it’s hard to not react, but in my 20s, I’ve never reacted when I absolutely didn’t want to.
I considered chopping this post in half and posting the rest later, but really, if I’m afraid to stick out in a “Stick out here!” thread, that means I should get a lot of these things looked at. Simply not editing this list is loads cheaper:)
On the one hand, I have no real interest in sex. Indeed, I once went four years without it, and I wasn’t bothered in the least. I was in my early 20s before I tried masturbation; I found (and still find it) boring. I’ve never had an orgasm (I’m 28), but I sleep with my boyfriends anyway because that’s the price of admission if you want to have an emotionally intimate relationship.
On the other hand, I’m fascinated by sex, because it’s this whole side of the human experience that I’m utterly divorced from. I read a lot of porn, flirt like crazy and speak almost entirely in innuendo because I want to feel like a part of this big part of life that I’m missing. I don’t feel asexual – I find men attractive, and I want to enjoy sex with them. But I do feel less than human when people talk about how much they love sex and how easy it is for them to get off.
Actually, bacon salt, beer, porn, and an XBox will pretty much keep us happy.
looks at list
I’ll be in my bunk.
Sometimes I wonder if I think about sex too much.
A little while after my 30th birthday, I went to a swingers club. I had a great time. I hope to go again soon.
Having gone through http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?t=482806, I realize that I like way too many of those songs way too much. And please forgive my sloppy coding. I’m tired.
I really, really like absinthe and I drink way too much of it. Like 2-3 750ml bottles per month. I used to smoke a lot of weed but now absinthe has taken its place.
I was on a train with my girlfriend, and there was an older woman and a preteen girl sitting across from us. My girlfriend began to brush her hair, and then as a joke offered the brush to me (I am bald, FYI). I looked at the girl across from me and said “Did you see what she just did?” The girl gave a kind-of smile. After we got off the train, my girlfriend said “I can’t believe you asked a blind girl if she saw something!” I hadn’t seen she had a red-tipped cane! I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know!:smack:
This is the best post I have ever seen in my life.
Really.
I had this long post written out and then it disappeared. I’m not sure where it went but here’s a short version:
Cruelty to animals makes me want to kill. And, the scarey part to me is, I feel I could.
I truly love sour cream and could eat it straight out of the tub. With lots of salt.
I wouldn’t get married again.
I stare at anything that fascinates me. all the while listening to my brain saying “it’s not polite to stare”…strange people, weird stuff, the people who do those demonstrations “it chops, dices, look at this folks”. I can stare at them for hours…fascinating how they can talk and do all that stuff continuously…and I once met a person with two different coloured eyes…that was veeerrry difficult to get through.
I could watch animals sleep for hours…such innocence.
I really don’t like kids sometimes…I know I tell you yours are cute and all but they’re really noisy and sometimes they smell.
I wish I had cleavage like some of those posted here.
I don’t understand on line gaming, Facebook or cell phones.
True appreciate comes through touch; flowers, oil paintings, fabric, good looking people, animals, glass, stones…
Sigmagirl…I’m with you with the converter thing.
George Carlin humour is priceless. Cruel humour and/or stupid humour is not understandable.
Alcohol really does taste very good…rye, vodka, wine.
Our house is too small and we need to rent a storage area for all the crap you save for “one day we might need that”. Why can’t we just do that? Why does it have to be such a big deal? Yes, this is what I’m really thinking when you go out and buy something else…
Although I watch it, I really think you should have the Christmas parade around Christmas (the week before, perhaps) rather than today…when it’s raining, not snowing.
I confess that it seems like a lifetime ago since I last posted in this thread.
I confess that I have nothing left to confess.
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I have never ever drunk alcohol through my mouth ever
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I get changed into my p.js at about 6pm almost every night if I’m staying in and watch TV.
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I have had my period constantly, every day, for 6months.
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If a guy gives me a compliment based on looks or appearance I seriously want to kick his balls off. It pisses me off beyond belief. Especially if builders whistle, then I will actually shout f’ off back to them.
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It annoys the hell out of me when women, or men for that matter, comment on my weight or size. It just bothers me how much it matters to some women to the point that they feel the need for it to be the first thing they mention when they see me, before even ‘hello’.
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If someone tells me ‘I look well’ I want to punch them. It makes me feel pregnant and bright red.
Frankly, so do I, and I haven’t had one since 1998.
Face it, brother, at your stage and mine in life, no one who comes along is going to be a slamdunk. The window on storybook romance was nailed shut long ago for us, and there ain’t no crowbar.
I like my new roommate but I resent not being able to wander around the apartment naked anymore.
I have lots but at the moment I don’t know what the phrase 'Bob noise!!" means and I don’t know if I’ve just been insulted or not on another forum. I can’t find anything by googling and I don’t know how to respond. I hate risking that embarrassing whooshing noise. I don’t know which is worst - not knowing it or being too egotistical to want to get laughed at.