Personally, I’m lookin’ for ol’ Sukie Jones. She crazy hoss saloon, y’know. Gotta keep an eye out for Janie though. I heard some guy jacked her, and they found him underneath a train.
Forget Stacy and her mom. Because of Laura, here I am feeling like a fucking fool.
She was just seventeen.
You know what I mean.
And the way she looked was way beyond compare.
She was only seventeen…Seventeen, her momma said she’s too young but she’s old enough for me…
the hell sang that?
Tell Laura I love her.
I’ve just spent an evening swilling champagne (I swear to God, after the first five I was knocking ‘em back like freakin’ Coca-Cola) and I have some disturbing news to report…
Now…I’m not the world’s most masculine man…but
I know what I am, and I’m glad I’m a man…
…and so is Stacy’s mom. :eek:
(On Preview)
Yeah, Tentacle Monster, Lola’s cool…just don’t arm-wrestle her.
Different gal. She just wasn’t the girl for me.
I have no idea as to what this is about. Time for bed anyway.
OTOH, we can tell by the way you walk that you’re a woman’s man, no time to talk.
Stacy’s mom may definitely have it goin’ on, but ooooh Rhiannon!
Tripler
Rhiiiiaaaaaanon!
Stary mom. Meh. Now Lisa, my Woman in Red…
Stacy’s mom. Meh. Now Lisa, my Woman in Red…
You don’t say. ^^^
With great shame, I will tell you that it was Winger.
I would sing the praises of the woman I love, but I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar (I am the son and heir of nothing in particular).
Once Jack is outta the picture, Diane’s all mine.
(Hey, I’m doin’ the best I can.)
Yeah, I know. It may be wrong, but everybody’s in love with Stacy’s mom.
However, I’m kinda fonda Wanda, 'cause Wanda always wanna wanna wanna.
Aw jezz…it shows?
Damn this priapism!
Actually, I have consulted a doctor about it. Apparently I need to put the lime in the coconut and…well, I won’t bore you with the details.
<<puts Neofishboy on the list of ‘people what owe me a new monitor’>>
Nothing at all like that girl Betty. She was so pretty I used to let her call me Al.
I can’t take credit for this gem, but got it from a friend of a friend via a chain mail:
<b>Love in the Eighties</b>
I was working part time in a five and dime. My boss was Mr. Magee.
He was six foot four and full of muscles and walked like an Egyptian,
but I was happy to be stuck with him.
One manic Monday, while I was busy working for the weekend, I overheard
him make a careless whisper. He told two of my co-workers, Jack and
Diane, that I gave love a bad name. Well, I got so emotional, baby. I
told him to say say say what he wants, but don’t play games with my
affection. He told me it was hard for him to say he’s sorry and not to
worry, to be happy. Then he blamed it on the
rain.
He was so out of touch. It just took my breath away. I couldn’t
fight this feeling any longer. I asked him “What’s love got to do with
it?” He told me to get outta his store and his dreams and into my car.
So I figured I might as well jump.
I cut footloose, went home and called my girl, Jenny. (You already
know the number) She was on the other line with Amanda. They were
talking about Mickey and how he was so fine. That blew my mind! Was she
really going out with him? I told her that I had just called to say I
love her. She told me she had been saving all her love for me, but now
she was looking for a new love - hasta la vista, baby.
I thought “I can’t go for that - no can do! Bring me a higher love!” I
called up some of my old west end girls, hoping that one of them would
want to get physical all night long (all night). First I called Billie
Jean - she told me to beat it. I called Rosanna - her sister Christian
blessed the rains down in Africa and then hung up on me. Come on,
Eileen! … no answer. Nobody told me there’d be days like these! I
was feeling like the owner of a lonely heart.
Then, out of the blue, my best friend’s girlfriend (she used to be
mine) Roxanne calls. Yes, the real Roxanne. She told me she still
hadn’t found what she’s looking for and that she wanted to take on me. I
said “I thought you were Jessie’s girl.” She said “Don’t you want me?
You don’t have to put on the red light - I’m on my own.”
What a feeling! I had the eye of the tiger. Who was I f-f-f-foolin?
Roxanne drove me crazy like no one else. She’s a beauty! She blinded
me with science, and weird science at that. There was always something
there to remind me of her and I just knew that I’d have the time of my
life. I wasn’t about to la-di-da-di.
I jumped in my little red Corvette and rocked down to Electric Avenue.
I got my mind set on her. When I got to her house (in the middle of her
street) I ran. I rapped on her front door and to this rapper’s
delight, I heard a voice say “Who can it be now?” “Here I am, the one
that you love”, I replied. I let my love open the door and was
immediately lost in her eyes.
I felt like a virgin touched for the very first time. She loosened her
blouse and said “Rock me Amadeus!” Well, I felt it was my prerogative
to bust a move. I told her “I’ll tumble for ya!” as I pinned her on
the stairs, hungry like the wolf. Just then I felt an invisible touch
on my shoulder. “Turn around bright eyes!” said a familiar voice.
As I did, Jessie hit me with a sledgehammer of an uppercut that spun me
right round like a record. He was hangin’ tough and continued to roll
with it, knocking the wind from beneath my wings - broken wings by this
time. He rocked me tonight, for old time’s sake, beating me from head
to toe, until my true colors were black and blue and blood was spilling
from my mouth like red, red wine. “You don’t owe me money for
nothing!” he snarled.
At this point I was livin’ on a prayer. I crawled back to my little
red Corvette and drove home thinking about how my tainted love had cut
like a knife - how it seems that every rose, truly, has its thorn. No
longer do I want to know what love is. Love stinks.