by Peter Balestrieri and Mark Peters
I'm half-human, half-ostrich. I have a human head and legs, but an ostrich body. I run very fast, but I'm not very good at painting. Amazingly, I'm typing this with my feet.
What a pleasing thing it is to receive letters from our friends, and how glad I am that I took the advice of friends and practiced letter writing when a small boy. By so doing I formed a habit, or rather a desire to read and write which now affords me many hours of real pleasure. During this war, while so many of our dearest friends are away on the tented field, what hours and weeks of dreadful anxiety we would be obliged to endure were it not that we have a medium for communicating with them when distance separates us. How unpleasant it must be the situation of those boys in our armies, who are unable to write to their friends and read letters received from them.
I think that ten people at a party is just right.
When I get really angry at someone I usually deal with it in a logical manner.
The first thing I do in the morning when I get up is take a shower.
I do considerable mountain biking on Alaska's bear trails. Any trail in Alaska, after the pavement ends, is a potential bear trail. I am not your usual Palo Alto-style, Lycra-clad, helmeted bicyclist. My usual attire is a Pendleton wool shirt, hiking boots, and a greasy, gray, Clint Eastwood-type Stetson. There is full-flap holster on the front of the bicycle, where a .454 Casull, .44 Magnum or .41 Magnum usually lives. It beats a pocketful of rocks. Coming across a knee-high, steaming pile of fresh bear scat in the middle of a narrow mountain trail inspires the spontaneous, inharmonious singing of Christmas carols in the alder brush.
And no, Fonzie 'n' me aren't having an affair (how you flatter me!). I hate to burst your "evany vs. pinkie" bitch-fight fantasies, but Winkler (the actor who portrayed Arthur "Fonzie" Fonzarelli on Happy Days ... pause ... I just realized that I have also had the pleasure of a "real life" encounter with not only the actress who plays Mrs. Cunningham, but, more titilatingly, Scott Baio of Chatchi fame. Perhaps, if my cards are played carefully, I will meet them all! Potsie Webber! Ralph Malph! Richie C! Joannie! Howard! Al! ... Man! Now I DO have a reason to keep on keeping on!) was merely a guest director on Clueless (the so-cheesy-I-can't-believe-it's-still-on-the-air TV show that's based on the people-say-it's-based-on-austin's(jane not powers)-emma-but-I-can't-see-it feature film), where my fine friend Sophia (of LA roommate fame) works in the costuming department.
It may come as a surprise to you, but I have good reason to know you have the clap. I am surprised.
For years my two kids would lose their toothpaste and come into my bathroom and take mine. When I would need it and it wasn't there, I would get upset again. Being a pastor of a church it's not good to get upset on Sunday morning again and again. I tried to correct the problem but with little or no success. I would find the toothpaste in their bedroom, on the bathroom floor "yuk" or lost forever in toothpaste heaven. I finally said, "God, there has to be something good that can come out of this. Hummm... Why don't I invent a wall mounted toothpaste dispenser to settle my frustration and make a lot of money at the same time? The next Saturday morning I went to the garage and in ten minutes I made a rough model that worked. Walla....The wall mounted toothpaste dispenser. I thought, If I am having this problem then there has to be at least several million people that have the same problem I had. I searched the world online to see if I could find a wall mounted toothpaste dispenser and I couldn't find a one so I created one and it works great. I have been using it for over five years. My wife and kids swear by it. When my daughter married she had to have one for her house to keep things neat and in order. I've sold a number of them and they have been successful.
PS: Out of my Center for Emotional Communication, I have spent years conducting research with real couples. My scientifically proven techniques have helped thousands of couples navigate the minefields that destroy many relationships. If you're ready for love that lasts a lifetime, you've come to the right place.
She sleeps in a bed of moonbeams, covered in a blanket of clouds. Each day, an adorable deer wakes her up by licking her face. Magical dewdrops scrub her pink face clean, and for breakfast she eats a bowl of sunbeams and starshine.
Although I have no problem with explicit sexual language in one-on-one communication (as you'll see when you correspond with me off-line), I feel a Web page that is open to the public requires a bit more circumspection. Therefore, throughout this site, with a few exceptions, I say "you-know-what" instead of the specific names of the genitals themselves. For example: "He knew I was ready when he slipped his trembling hand into my panties and felt my wet you-know-what." Though I sometimes use descriptive synonyms for genitals: "I saw that I'm-gonna-cum look on his face just in time. I quickly reached between us to firmly grasp the base of his erection. It was slick with my juices but I maintained my grip until his urge to ejaculate subsided. Then we continued to mate like two minks!" Or: "I bent over, exposing my girlhood." But on the whole, I refer to my hole (Ha!) as "you-know-what." Some readers find this usage quite annoying while others delight in it. I hope you're among the latter.
P.S. Email your students, tell them to kiss your naked ass and leave you alone!! Hahaha hula time!!
I would like to emphasize once again that I really like to eat hot dogs. If you disagree, I loathe you. I despise you. Not only that, but I also despise all your loved ones. I want to see them torn to pieces by wild dogs. If I ever meet you in person, I'll smash your brains in with a fucking bat. Then we'll see who doesn't like hot dogs.