I think that the trainwreck in question stated it was 24/7 but from everything she’s described, it isn’t really. She said if she doesn’t feel well then it’s off, and if she’s really not in the mood, again no go. She can go out when she chooses, talks back, blah, blah.
I think it’s a game that has extended outside of the bedroom whenever they feel like it, (in front of the kids and company, she has pointed out they’ve lost friends.) and it’s just a game to them.
I thought about jumping in on the fun, and stating just that, but no one is really listening now.
My personal feelings about that whole thing is they should be able to do whatever they want. But to put their fun pleasure games right out in front of the kids is wrong. But we’re only in the position to tell her that. I realize that a traditional d/s isn’t all about sex, I think this is a game, and a way to shock people.
It’s windy here today, I’m trying to motivate the boy to get going, he doesn’t seem in a hurry.
Remember back at the beginning of the year when I said that Art Teacher Sister is having Baby #3? She just found out the gender. Looks like my niece is getting a room to herself. Her brother, on the other hand…
Would someone else like to take Nat for his shots next week? I don’t think I can stand the shrieking. Ah, swampy, how nice of you to volunteer! And sorry you’re feeling sick.
(((((Rigs)))))
Yup, I’m learning to appreciate All Things Minnesotan (Hot dish, anyone?) and there have been some references that have made me smile.
I read the first page of the pit thread after everyone here was talking about it, but I just can’t get worked up over it either way. I’m just going to hang out here with the Mumpers, 'cause we’re nice, dammit!
Not just hot dish; bars! And, of course, crimes against Mexican food. We went to a party at Papa Tigs’ cousin’s place, and they had this odd assortment of stuff in separate dishes – some plain unspiced boiled chicken, grated cheddar cheese, and some bowl containing white goop. And taco shells. I asked what it was all for, and she said, “Tacos.” “Yes,” said I, “but what’s that white stuff?” “Mayonnaise,” she replied.
I’m afraid I lost it and shrieked in horror. For some strange reason! :eek: :eek:
Needless to say, I did NOT try the boiled chicken/cheddar cheese/mayonnaise version of a taco that day. :rolleyes:
And we mustn’t forget bars!
ETA: I forgot to say: Congrats, Spaz! You do realize that photos will be obligatory once Junior arrives?
Thank you, thank you. Did they doubt me in the forbidden thread? :dubious: Have they been forced to eat crow? Mwahaha. (Never mind, I’m not really expecting an answer of course. It’s always fun to read those things afterwards though. Hee.)
I was 21 in 1974 (I still am - I just have more experience at it now ) and had been working with my still-current employer for a year after dropping out of university after my first year and spending another year as a Reserve signalman on call-out with the Regular Forces.
I was a pretty tame kid. I tried pot only once (in the 8th Hussars barracks at CFB Petawawa, right next door to the Regimental Police Office), didn’t like it and didn’t do it again. I tried cigarettes once - smoked three while volunteering on Robert Winters’ losing try at the 1968 Liberal Leadership Convention), didn’t like it and didn’t do it again. I got really drunk once - again at CFB Petawawa, but out in the camp area (I actually had to crawl back to my tent because I couldn’t walk), didn’t like it and didn’t do it again.
I guess I’m in with the others who have mentioned not doing drugs/liquor because they don’t like losing control. I still drink, but I do it for the taste, not the mind-altering effects, and rarely have more than one drink a week.
I have photos now, but I don’t think my sister would appreciate her ultrasounds being spread about the web willy-nilly. All I can say is WOW the technology’s improved over the last thirty years. My ultrasound looked like someone sprayed white-out on a piece of black paper. (And by my ultrasound, I mean the pre-birth picture of me. No Spazkittens will be forthcoming. Ever.)
Those “tacos” are an affront to all things decent. I’d tell Complicated Roommate (who used to hold a dual US-Mexican citizenship) about them, but I’m afraid that he’d go charging up to Cousin Tigs’ and edumacate them about proper Tex-Mex cooking. And he would not be nice about it either. This is the man who can eat salsa made from 100 habañeros and claim it tastes “sweet.”
SPEAKING OF, I got a call from him today. He went up to the mountains to visit friends & family this weekend and was supposed to be back last night. When I noticed he hadn’t come back this morning (I hit the hay early) I figured he probably had car trouble. Yep. The oil pan dropped out of his car. I told him he should have taken a picture so we could have LOLCarized it. “Changin oil: Yr doin it rong.” He got it replaced for free because it was the Ford dealership’s fault for not getting the gasket in correctly and got back on the road this afternoon.
We have a tea towel from a former Doper. It’s a map of Minnesota, “Principal Hot Dishes By Region”. It’s great.
My step-MIL went to a relative’s house, and the relative had very pciky children. They were supposed to have chili. It was a bowl of cooked ground beef, with a bowl of bean (plain) and a shaker of chili powder.
“Oh, the kids don’t like spicy things.”
Evil and wrong.
Has anyone else read Peace Like a River? It’s by a Minnesotan. It’s good.
Ta. I needed that. I had to sit in an office with a stupid woman for over 2 hours today. She was ranting all about vaccines and how they, not TV, cause autism. Where to start? So I didn’t start. I just did my work in my hidey-hole and thought of ways to kill her. Librarian does not mean intelligent or well read, just FYI.
I’ll take Gnat for his shots–the screaming is over in about 2 minutes. Just wait until he’s 18 months and can kick back, strong… Poor mite. Poor mom! But he needs them and he will not be scarred for life–trust me on this one.
I have read Peace Like a River, many years ago–very good book.
I think if they tell you, they have to kill you. Me no get it. I’m in enough trouble as it is–I don’t need hitmen (who would not be classic Godfather types, but cross-dressing, dykeish militants flogging me with leather straps and forcing me to listen to Barry Manilow records).
Off to buy #2 son a NorthFace jacket, because apparently the Love of the Label has started now (in 4th grade).
In its simplest form, the mafia game starts out with a team of townspeople and a team of mafia. (There are always more townies than mafia though.) On the surface, everyone starts as a townie. The mafia all know each other’s identities, while townspeople can only be certain of their own. At the end of every Day, everyone votes on someone to execute. Upon execution, the player’s true identity is revealed.
At Night, the mafia have the opportunity to secretly murder one person of their choosing.
The goal is to sniff out the mafia and kill them all. The mafia’s goal, obviously, is to kill the townies until they outnumber them.
Most games will have other roles thrown in as well. Sometimes the option to recruit instead of kill is also available.
And sorry you’re feeling sick.
It’s always fun to read those things afterwards though. Hee.)