The Best Days of Our Lives

[9thdoctor]

It begins.

You transferred to be near the girl? What was the “it” that began? It’s hard not to think of the comedic/dramatic possibilities for the next paragraph: the disclosure of the “it”. A life of crime, your first tattoo? As it stands, one expects a conventional love story…and must suppress a yawn. But!™ if the author was GHS, this might be his introduction to swinging, or maybe to the joys of smearing oneself with Vaseline (I’ve still never tried that). Then there was what’s-her-face, she rarely posts anymore, but she did a whole thread on cock-rings. I think Selene is into S&M; Adam likes his Eve’s to have pink cheeks, if you know what I mean. So, what’s “it”? Don’t let your readers down!

Here's a good Woody Allen scene that seems applicable:

Crap, it won't embed.

[Selene]

ND:

You are referring to CNA.

It is primarily D/s, rather than BDSM. My engagement in the extremely erotic enterprise [three "e's"!] has been in the last twelve (12) years.

I have and am leading a really great life and I have been thinking about how lucky I am to have so many "best days" that I am attempting to "organize" them and select one or two of the best of the best.

Of course, some involve wonderful women, some involve my two children and some involve incredible high actualization "Maslowian events."

I am a very fortunate person.

George's thread has allowed me to recognize just how fortunate I am.

Adam

[Philip Coates]

Dennis,

I sympathize. You tried to share a value and ninth doctor responded by [alliteration alert] smearing shit on it with a smirky, smutty, slimy response. (He said he had to suppress a yawn: I wish he'd suppress his posts instead.)

Now you can see what I have to deal with with this guy on thread after thread - and why I despise him so much.

[Brant Gaede]

It begins.

You transferred to be near the girl? What was the “it” that began? It’s hard not to think of the comedic/dramatic possibilities for the next paragraph: the disclosure of the “it”. A life of crime, your first tattoo? As it stands, one expects a conventional love story…and must suppress a yawn. But!™ if the author was GHS, this might be his introduction to swinging, or maybe to the joys of smearing oneself with Vaseline (I’ve still never tried that). Then there was what’s-her-face, she rarely posts anymore, but she did a whole thread on cock-rings. I think Selene is into S&M; Adam likes his Eve’s to have pink cheeks, if you know what I mean. So, what’s “it”? Don’t let your readers down!

Here's a good Woody Allen scene that seems applicable:

Crap, it won't embed.

Even poorer of you. Don't you have something in your head turned off should be turned on that says you shouldn't say?

--Brant

[PDS]

I have just taken a spin through the posting guidelines issued by our kind host.

It turns out there is no requirement that a member of OL post something about another member's contribution to a thread, especially after that other member has expressed an understandable reluctance to be shat upon for said contributions.

Food for thought.

[9thdoctor]

I have just taken a spin through the posting guidelines issued by our kind host.

It turns out there is no requirement that a member of OL post something about another member's contribution to a thread, especially after that other member has expressed an understandable reluctance to be shat upon for said contributions.

Food for thought.

My fellow OLers, I didn’t say a single thing critical (or “shat upon”-ing) of Dennis’s post. I took the fact that he ended it on an ambiguity, and imagined how a few other OLers may fill in the blank, if it were their story. So “one expects a conventional love story…and must suppress a yawn”, meaning, unless he’s holding back something unexpected, it was a good ending! OTOH, GHS meeting a girl for a first date, and she’s a stripper and wants him to pick her up at work, there we hunger for the whole story with all the bizarre details.

[Selene]

I have just taken a spin through the posting guidelines issued by our kind host.

It turns out there is no requirement that a member of OL post something about another member's contribution to a thread, especially after that other member has expressed an understandable reluctance to be shat upon for said contributions.

Food for thought.

My fellow OLers, I didn’t say a single thing critical (or “shat upon”-ing) of Dennis’s post. I took the fact that he ended it on an ambiguity, and imagined how a few other OLers may fill in the blank, if it were their story. So “one expects a conventional love story…and must suppress a yawn”, meaning, unless he’s holding back something unexpected, it was a good ending! OTOH, GHS meeting a girl for a first date, and she’s a stripper and wants him to pick her up at work, there we hunger for the whole story with all the bizarre details.

Good clarification. Now it does open up some good fantasy story lines.

[9thdoctor]

Good clarification. Now it does open up some good fantasy story lines.

Thanks, I’m glad someone got it. I’m still curious if Dennis changed schools to be close to the girl, otherwise she seems to have been in charge the whole way. Like AR tripping Frank O’Connor. Maybe I better explain the Annie Hall reference too. That’s how I’m imagining the real scene looked, I get the sense that Dennis was inexperienced and fumbled around uncomfortably, and the girl had to keep taking more of a lead than is conventional. Woody Allen turns it into a classic scene by adding the subtitles, otherwise it would sink like a stone.

[Selene]

Good clarification. Now it does open up some good fantasy story lines.

Thanks, I’m glad someone got it. I’m still curious if Dennis changed schools to be close to the girl, otherwise she seems to have been in charge the whole way. Like AR tripping Frank O’Connor. Maybe I better explain the Annie Hall reference too. That’s how I’m imagining the real scene looked, I get the sense that Dennis was inexperienced and fumbled around uncomfortably, and the girl had to keep taking more of a lead than is conventional. Woody Allen turns it into a classic scene by adding the subtitles, otherwise it would sink like a stone.

An interesting observation.

I think it was Eddie Murphy who explained that a woman knows within five (5) to ten (10) minutes of meeting you whether she is going to fuck you or not.

My experience is that that is pretty much true.

Adam

[Dennis Hardin]

Phil, Brant, David: Thank you.

[9thdoctor]

Phil, Brant, David: Thank you.

Uh-oh, so you were offended. I’m going to need to know why, or else more of same may be forthcoming at a future date. So, at what point, which sentence, something. That is, unless Phil’s “I despise him so much” speaks for you, in which case we shouldn’t be having pleasant chats about Tebow on other threads, you think?

[caroljane]

One of the best days of my life was the birth of my second son. It was nearly six years after the birth of the first, partly because I feared a recurrence of the dreadful postnatal depression I had had, really a psychosis in retrospect. I had a perfect pregnancy.like the first time, except I was bigger and fatter. The baby was expected on April 1, but obviously intended to be nobody;s April Fool, and I woke up on March 27 at midnight in labour.. At 2.30 n on March 28 n\he was born. My husband missed the birth because he was led along the wrong corridor by a ditzy nurse.

The next day I woke up dreading my feelings, then luxuriating in them. My husband brought me the most beautiful flowers I will ever see. My older son solemnly held his brother, shouldering the burden of a lifetime with the bashful heroism which is the hallmark of the Lynams. Iwas waited on hand and foot by hospital staff and let to go home when I was good and ready. Five days.

This joy, so unexpected, so undeserved, so real so vivid.

[Brant Gaede]

On Friday, December 16, 1983, I went to the movies thoroughly drunk.

(To get the proper charge out of this silly tale, you have to realize that it takes a lot to get me drunk, between the physiognomy evident in the avatar at left, and a pronounced dislike for getting more than a relaxed buzz from alcohol. Thus, the adjective has only really applied to about four or five occasions in my life since I could legally drink. ... But I digress.)

It was after the annual Christmas party held by my employer — actually, the larger trade association which controlled the smaller one that directly employed me. All my colleagues had contempt for the pretentiousness and power-sucking of the Bigger Boys, so several of us gathered in the subterranean Billy Goat Tavern to get the taste of the soirée out of our mouths.

(Yes, admirers of "SNL"-when-it-was-actually-funny, THAT Billy Goat Tavern. "Cheezborger cheezborger cheezborger, no Pepsi, COKE" — that one. ... But I digress again.)

After two hours of some of the best beer and conversation I'd ever had, I weaved up the iron stairs to a windswept Michigan Avenue, somehow managed to cross between the Wrigley Building and Tribune Tower without being mowed down, and climbed onto the No. 11 Lincoln Avenue bus.

In one of the few times a single, unaccompanied thought wandered into the foyer of my neocortex, I remembered as the bus passed the Christmas-light-strewn trees: That new movie is playing at the Lincoln Village. I was gonna go see it. Wonder if it'll matter that I'm in the bag.

So I got off and staggered north, to the theater, rather than south to the subway station. I bought my ticket and slumped into the seat, winter coat next to me (it wasn't very crowded), and expected to be mildly entertained as the previews unwound.

Two hours and thirty-five minutes later, I walked briskly to the theater door, stone-cold sober. With the greatest feeling of exhilaration I'd yet experienced, I kept walking, six blocks east, to the John Hancock Center.

I paid for an observatory ticket, itching to get up to the 100th floor. I stood for another hour gazing in rapture at the lights of Chicago, streaming gloriously away in three directions, with the long-conquered lake sitting in azure silence.

What a magnificent civilization we live in, I kept saying to myself.

After climbing down from that emotional high, which I've never had to such a degree before or since about any work of art, I finally headed home.

That was a pretty good day.

... What movie, you ask? Well, do you think I'm going to let you just take in that passive bit of information and pre-judge it? You'll have to at least click here and find out a little about it for yourself.

Another late one from Steve.

--Brant