I park in the same spot everyday at work. It is 3 rows away from the side door right next to the light pole. We share the building with several other companies. There are no assigned parking spaces. But that parking space is MINE!
Mrs. B and I have a tiny little cabin on the Long Beach peninsula in Washington, in a little town called Ocean Park. We try to go up there every other weekend, if we can, Summer or Winter. And we always walk on the beach at least once, unless it’s totally monsooning.
In the winter we’ll be the only ones on the beach. So we figure that makes it our beach.
We claim it in the name of US!
Hey, it worked for Columbus and all those guys!
In the summer we sneer at all the tourists walking on our beach. And they mess it up too! SCUM!
Okay I have a couple of things that are mine.
Y’know all those neat stores called Claire’s? Those are all mine (I’m Claire and my Grandparents always say ‘There’s your store’ whenever we go by it so it’s mine!)
And you know those pretzels dipped in chocolate? I was eating those before they were marketed and sold in grocery stores. I made them myself but still I was eating them before they even started selling them!
I can’t think of anything else that is mine beyond my seat in class which never changes. I chose it on the first day of class and I always sit there.
The second seat in the second row of P206 in the science center is mine. I have actually evicted those who thought they were going to sit there. Silly people.
As a group, we have a table in the cafeteria. While we’ve never evicted anyone, we glare freely at those who presume to use it.
Dorm rooms that I used to inhabit are still mine, even though other people are living there now.
Up the hill from school are a chain of cliffs. There’s a spot that belons to “us” as a group–we’d be very disgruntled to discover anyone else there (we’ve yet to run into that problem).
There are also houses in town that are “mine”–I like them lots and will go out of my way to go by them.
And there’s so much more . . .
In Buffalo New York, where I grew up, the zoo has several entrace gates. Each gate is flanked by two concrete animal statues, all different. The lion is mine.
It used to be my mom’s. Her parents took her picture sitting on it when she was a toddler, when she was a kid, and when she was a teenager. Likewise, I have pictures of me sitting on it at various ages. (sigh, further proof that I never should have been allowed out of the house as a teenager in the 80s … WHAT was I wearing?)
There has been talk recently of relocating the zoo (presumbly the institution and the animals, as opposed to the physical plant) to a new location, or completely renovating it. This would be great for the animals, but I have grave concerns about the fate of my lion.
I wish someone would take my virginity.
And if you’re cute enough, you don’t even have to ask.
[sub]The one good thing about being a guy is that I can lie about my virginity. Or not, as the case may be.[/sub]
David Patrick Kelly is mine. I’m one of his two fans (someone with the SN DreamDekker created a webpage. But she never answered my e-mails. Cow.). If he ever gets recognition, remember, he was mine first.
But I doubt he’ll ever get any recognition. Sigh. He would have made an awesome Wolverine; not a sex object like Hugh Jackman, but he’s 5’3", and Wolvie’s supposed to be 5’3", plus he has the necessary bone structure and hairline. He also would have made a good Samwise, except now he’s too old. It ain’t gonna happen. As I keep telling myself.
Waaaayy back when the missus and I were just a high school couple, we were sitting in the playground by her folks apartments. She was telling me the stories of her various bits of jewlery, most of which was from old boyfriends. She wasn’t being mean, and I’m not jealous, so it wasn’t a bad thing…
But I was upset that I was poor, and couldn’t give her any jewlery. So I looked up at the sky for a moment, then covered her eyes, and told her to relax. I turned her, and pointed her head up, and whispered in her ear…
“Someday, I’ll buy you rings, and necklaces, and other things… but for now, I can only give you what I have…” and I took my hands off her eyes, and she was staring at a perfect full moon, framed by clouds… “I give you the moon, it’s yours. Others may see it, but now it is yours, forever and always.”
She cried, and about 3 weeks later we broke up.
Now we’re married, and every now and again, she looks up, smiles at me and says… “My moon… no-one elses.”
I noticed it was gone for a couple of weeks. It’s been there recently though (when I drive by at about 0730).
I hope you’re not one of those people who have to slow down on the freeway to watch it take off or land! Oooh! That irritates me! It’s bad enough with people slowing down to get on the 110, and the slowing due to the Crenshaw exit not too far north. But when the blimp is taking off or landing, ya might as well put the car in park and get out a James Mitchner novel.
Tristan, I’m just about going to cry on that one. <snif> so pretty…
Stuff that is mine: just about everything.
My seat at the bagel shop
My apartment overlooking Forbes (its not even zoned for residential, but its mine.)
My rain. Any rain is my rain. It is there for me.
My space. Any space I spend time in becomes mine. My ex’s apartment is still mine, he will never get me out of it even if I never set foot in it again. (two years from now he will open a drawer in the kitchen and find a long blonde hair and damn me again. Or a few bits of glitter in the sofa. Though I do want to see his face if he ever discovers that I un-alphabatized his encyclopedia when he was moving in.)
My teacher, Mr. Bean. I took three terms from him in high school. He’s my teacher.
My holiday, Easter.
I have more but I have to go to my class. Hopefully wearing my clothes.
I live in a valley between the Short Hill Mountain and the Blue Ridge. The valley is about 2 miles wide and eight miles long.
It’s mine. All of it. Other people live there but I am the squire of the valley. The Chancling will inherit.
Soon I will be ready to deal with all the squatters.
I live in a valley between the Short Hill Mountain and the Blue Ridge. The valley is about 2 miles wide and eight miles long.
It’s mine. All of it. Other people live there but I am the squire of the valley. The Chancling will inherit.
Soon I will be ready to deal with all the squatters.
I live in a valley between the Short Hill Mountain and the Blue Ridge. The valley is about 2 miles wide and eight miles long.
It’s mine. All of it. Other people live there but I am the squire of the valley. The Chancling will inherit.
Soon I will be ready to deal with all the squatters.
Um. Regrets and apologies. I kept timing out.
um…
The squirrels that live in the trees by our hours are OURS. Last spring there were little squirrels and it was so darn cute watching them, especially when they were learning how to run on the fence. I’m going to miss them when we move.
Well, since I am allowing you to drive on MY freeway (yes I am calling dibs), if I slow down it is of course ok, cause I do own the whole road. 
Actually, you don’t have to worry 7:30am is waaayyy too early for me to be on the road, plus I actually don’t slow down, ever.