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Eric

Sex, Lies, and Blog Stories

Posted on 2006.08.01 at 23:16
Current Location: 63114
Current Music: Kate Bush: The Sensual World
Tags: ,
"It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have one better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by the dust and sweat and blood; who
strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly; so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat." --Teddy Roosevelt





Bogart'd from crowy:

If you read this, even if we don't speak often, please post a comment with a completely made up and fictional memory of you and me.
It can be anything you want - good or bad - it just has to be fake.
When you're finished, post this little paragraph on your LJ and be surprised (or mortified) about what people don't actually remember about you.




The Cubans:


The Non-Cubans:

Comments:


ex_crowy at 2006-08-02 08:02 (UTC) (Link)
I remember that time you and Tony came to my house with a child-size swimming pool, 15 gallons of milk, and 57 boxes of Jello instant chocolate pudding. You guys insisted I prepare the pudding while you two played "Ring Around the Rosie" in my living room. What confused me about the game was every time it got to "we all fall down", an article of clothing was removed. When I was finished preparing the pudding, you two were down to your underwear: you in a gold lame pair of short boxers which ripped away with a tug and Tony in an eye-catching purple thong with a silver butterfly charm at the top of his asscrack. I asked you guys what I should do with all the pudding. You two looked at me like I was crazy for not knowing, then pointed to the swimming pool. I dragged the pool to my front yard and filled it with pudding. Tony did a belly flop into the pudding, followed by you dancing toward it Macarena style. I expected a pudding wrestling match, but instead you two sipped Cosmos and talked about the Bee-Gees while relaxing in the pudding. The next thing I knew, a giant Spaceship landed in the yard. Alas, three Cosmos were all you boys could handle and were both passed out in the pool. The Aliens told me the secrets of the Universe as you began to mumble something about lightbulbs and Rod Serling in your sleep. This angered the Aliens, seeing as Serling was their arch nemesis. They zapped you in the gut with some type of weapon that shot out grape jelly and you woke up crying and reaching out for Tony to console you. He rebuffed your attempts at cuddling and leaped from the pool, shouting,"Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!", which only made you cry more and call out, "Why can't you love me for who I am, Tony? WHY?!?!?" At this point, I decided enough was enough and hosed you boys down before calling a cab to take you two home. I still can't get rid of all the damn flies in my yard.
Renegade
leonardii at 2006-08-02 21:10 (UTC) (Link)
Get some sour cream and onion chips with some dip, man, some beef jerky, some peanut butter. Get some Haagen-Dasz ice cream bars, a whole lot, make sure chocolate, gotta have chocolate, man. Some popcorn, red popcorn, graham crackers, graham crackers with marshmallows, the little marshmallows and little chocolate bars and we can make s'mores, man. Also, celery, grape jelly, Cap'n Crunch with the little Crunch berries, pizzas. We need two big pizzas, man, everything on 'em, with water, whole lotta water, and Funyons.
ehowton
ehowton at 2006-08-03 03:31 (UTC) (Link)
Foodspotting?
Renegade
leonardii at 2006-08-03 05:10 (UTC) (Link)
"Half Baked"
Tomas (pronunced Thomas)
professortom at 2006-08-04 22:41 (UTC) (Link)
I got your pizzas!
ehowton
ehowton at 2006-08-03 03:23 (UTC) (Link)
Mozart's Requiem was playing in the background. The cool Autumn breeze was coming through the open window. The leaves rustling outside were the perfect couterpoint to the symphony. You were young then, oh so young. As was I, looking back now. We were going to walk the path out our back door to the riverside to picnic. I'd packed some brie and olives and had just pulled the wine from the cooler and was ready to go. But not you - you were messing with your hair again. "It's fine!" I said. But as always it fell on deaf ears. You didn't want it to blow you said. I thought you were up there an awfully long time, but then again, I always did. When I finally worked up the courage to confront you, that's when I found you on the bathroom floor, collapsed from exhaustion. I was so concerned about our child you were carrying, I called the doctor before I moved you to the bed. I sat down next to you and cried.




Incidently, that story isn't too far off base, at least where the pudding is concerned. Tony, Bill and I went to Ryan's Steakhouse one evening, in Greenville, and Tony and I visited the desert bar after dinner. We brought the entire tub of pudding back to our table with us and ate it all - to the point of that greasy-lipped feeling you have when you've eaten way too much pudding. It was fantastic.
ex_crowy at 2006-08-04 17:04 (UTC) (Link)
I knew you two were pudding aficionados!
Tomas (pronunced Thomas)
professortom at 2006-08-04 22:40 (UTC) (Link)
Did that really happen?
ehowton
ehowton at 2006-08-10 17:41 (UTC) (Link)
No.
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