And, what, eight or nine months ago I actually logged off, got in my car and went to the store to look at the Kiwi cans.
Because of all the crap I take from you? grin Nah…just because it’d be cool…and hey, if you didn’t mail it but kept it instead, maybe I’d FINALLY make it down to Norfolk!
Winner, SDMB’s Biggest Chat Addict
“Only two things that’ll soothe my soul - cold beer and remote control.”
OH, and Cheif! No hairy chicks either please! I know I’m askin alot, but it was SO damned hard to send the last one back! Thanks!
Kisses!
}><(((^><^)))><{
Ophy
because i am sad and mail makes me happy.
it may be brief, but it’s a retreat nonetheless.
if wishes were fishes, we could walk on the ocean.
<Aside – Yer right Veb, I’d certainly not post an address, but I’ll give ye a fighting chance to guess – I have the distinction of living on the only street in the State of Connecticut (so far as I know) where the same government that takes my tax money for education has spelled the Street name wrong on the sign.>
Dr. Watson
“Care/of: Public Works Dept.; Irony Street; CT.”
no thanks . . can you go to the lesser antilles instead?
Hey Chief! I’ll trade you an incredibly awesome tape of my husband’s band for a postcard. He’s not famous or anything–it’s just him & his band in a local bar. He taped it himself. I can get it burned on to CD if that would be better. Tim (husband) plays blues guitar. He’s good. Reeeeeel good.
And I have two darling children who’s parents will probably never have enough money to send them to Italy (snif snif, big tears). You could send the postcard to them. My daughter is three, and my son is 5 months. So they’re at the age where getting mail is extremely cool, because they don’t get bills. They just get the fun stuff.
So…pick me! Pick me! You’ll get cool stuff!!!
This space blank, until Wally thinks up something cool to put here.
Because you and I go WAY back cheify…
Ah dew declare! Y’all furgotton lil ol’ Scarlett O’kellibelli already??
I’ll send alond my recipe for mint juleps and lemonage to your missus…
Juss float along now y’hear?
Because I have every postcard anyone ever sent me for 43yrs. Don’t know what I’ll do with them, but rest assured I’ll think of something. I originally intended to paper an outhouse with them, but I never acquired an outhouse. So I will think of something else.
I just can’t bring myself to throw them away.
“Patriotism is the last refuge to which a scoundrel clings.” Bob Dylan
I despise Micheal Masterson and that ought to be worth something.
Other than a post card from the Navy’s finest, the closest I’ve ever been to Italy is via “The Godfather.”
I’ve never asked you what the third word to end in “gry” is.
I’ll send you a post card from Michigan. (Welcome to Michigan where our state motto is: We have 12 days of summer,just not in a row.)
But mostly, because I took last place in the Ms. Congeniality SDMB contest.
Because I like Ravioli.
I’ll buy that for a dollar.
Cuz then you will have a reason to send one to Canada too
We are, each of us angels with only one wing,and we can only fly by embracing one another
Because… because…
Because I’m pregnant with your child, that’s why, you bastard!
Guy Stuff, 'nuf said?
I was a Navy brat for 15 years. My dad put in his 21 years on nuclear subs before retiring. He was stationed in Va. Beach back in the 70’s and when he left our family every six months or so, for at least six months, where did he go? The Med! I remember being a little girl and my mother taking my sister and me (usually early in the morning) to the base so we could see my dad the minute that tug pulled them back in. He always looked so different. Usually had a beard. Anyway, after getting home and unpacking, he would bring us great gifts from Italy, Spain, etc.
My dad has a great story about him and a bunch of the guys from the boat staying in a hotel in Italy and decide to go out bar hopping one night. After hours of bar hopping and drinking, they decide to catch a cab to go back to the hotel. After getting in a cab and giving the name of the hotel, the cab driver refuses to take them to the hotel, and with such a language barrier, they couldn’t understand why. Finally, the cab driver tells them to get out of his cab. They flag down another cab and ask the cab driver to take them to their hotel, they find out they are standing in front of their hotel and the last bar they had been drinking in was their own hotel bar. Now that I read this, that is such a stupid story.
Well, when I was 13, we moved to New London, CT, where my dad taught sub school for 4 years until his retirement in 1981. I sure did miss those presents from overseas. He sure would get a kick out of a postcard being sent to me from his old stomping grounds.
A little off the subject, let me ask a question. After six months of being at sea, when you get home, for about the first week or so, do you still hold onto your plate and glass while you’re eating?
Yo, youse guys (Affecting S. Philly Italian accent)!
Manny of you have not e-mailed me your addresses. Though exceptionally bright and witty, I am not clairvoyant.
Voted Best Sport
And narrowly averted the despised moniker Smiley Master
Forward deployed until 18AUG00
I don’t think the post card will get to that address Crystal.
I’ll buy that for a dollar.
Because I have people in Italy. Capice?
I thought so.
dwtno - who’s real name also ends with a vowel