Posted on 04/02/2012 12:33:56 PM PDT by trailhkr1
Cops: Accused Prostitute Offered Undercover Officer Sex For Cheeseburgers Off McDonald's Dollar Menu
The woman, the detective reported, replied that the pair “could go have sexual intercourse if I bought her two double cheese burgers off the dollar menu at McDonald’s.” The cop added, “I agreed to the deal and purchased the hamburgers for $2.75.”
(Excerpt) Read more at thesmokinggun.com ...
What I loved about the story in Fahrenheit 451 was the people who were compelled by their love of books to “become” books themselves. Imagine being “War and Peace” - I have a legendary memory, but not that long lasting.
Working too hard, but benefiting from it.
It's not another country, you know. It's just another language.
I can’t even remember the stories or poems that I write.
That’s why I write them down.
Posting from my new beeber like device. I don`t expect this to be a regular thing, but it`s a useful option.
And may I say that you look absolutely stuning with it.
A little story that shows the essential differences between a man and a woman:
Let’s say a guy named Roger is attracted to a woman named Elaine. He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else.
And then, one evening when they’re driving home, a thought occurs to Elaine, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: “Do you realize that, as of tonight, we’ve been seeing each other for exactly six months?”
And then there is silence in the car. To Elaine, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: Geez, I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he’s been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I’m trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he doesn’t want, or isn’t sure of.
And Roger is thinking: Gosh. Six months.
And Elaine is thinking: But, hey, I’m not so sure I want this kind of relationship, either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I’d have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily toward . . . I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward marriage? Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?
And Roger is thinking: . . . so that means it was . . . let’s see . . February when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer’s, which means . . . lemme check the odometer . . . Whoa! I am way overdue for an oil change here.
And Elaine is thinking: He’s upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I’m reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed — even before I sensed it — that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that’s it. That’s why he’s so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He’s afraid of being rejected.
And Roger is thinking: And I’m gonna have them look at the transmission again. I don’t care what those morons say, it’s still not shifting right. And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It’s 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a garbage truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves $600.
And Elaine is thinking: He’s angry. And I don’t blame him. I’d be angry, too. I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can’t help the way I feel. I’m just not sure.
And Roger is thinking: They’ll probably say it’s only a 90- day warranty. That’s exactly what they’re gonna say, the scumballs.
And Elaine is thinking: maybe I’m just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I’m sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.
And Roger is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I’ll give them a warranty. I’ll take their warranty and stick it right up their ......
“Roger,” Elaine says aloud.
“What?” says Roger, startled.
“Please don’t torture yourself like this,” she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. “Maybe I should never have . . Oh, I feel so......”
(She breaks down, sobbing.)
“What?” says Roger.
“I’m such a fool,” Elaine sobs. “I mean, I know there’s no knight. I really know that. It’s silly. There’s no knight, and there’s no horse.”
“There’s no horse?” says Roger.
“You think I’m a fool, don’t you?” Elaine says.
“No!” says Roger, glad to finally know the correct answer.
“It’s just that . . . It’s that I . . . I need some time,” Elaine says.
(There is a 15-second pause while Roger, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might work.)
“Yes,” he says.
(Elaine, deeply moved, touches his hand.)
“Oh, Roger, do you really feel that way?” she says.
“What way?” says Roger.
“That way about time,” says Elaine.
“Oh,” says Roger. “Yes.”
(Elaine turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.)
“Thank you, Roger,” she says.
“Thank you,” says Roger.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Roger gets back to his place, he opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a tennis match between two Czechoslovakians he never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it’s better if he doesn’t think about it.
The next day Elaine will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification. They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it, either.
Meanwhile, Roger, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of his and Elaine’s, will pause just before serving, frown, and say:
“Norm, did Elaine ever own a horse?”
Don't even get me started on the shopping patterns thing.
Hunter: "All right, we need to navigate to our target, and when we've located it we need to be quiet, plan/coordinate our attack, seize the game, prep it and get outta Dodge before large predators smell the prize and come to investigate." (Home Depot Run With a Mission Focus)
Gatherer: "Should I put this in my basket? This mushroom looks a bit like the one that felled half of the Sho Pere clan a month back. I don't know. . . What do you think, Moose Shale?" (Will this Scarf Fall Flat at the Party?")
"We are Here to Hide those who realize where Sanity lies! *hug*"
I know, right? Heh hehehe hehehehehehheh bwaaahahahahahahahahahaaaaa!
I’m 40 pounds under my max weight.
Not worried about it.
What counts is the fuel-to-payload ratio.
I probably looked more “stuned” than “stuning.” (This is me on the PC with a real keyboard now ;-).
We were talking about shoes last night at Cub Scouts. I have five pairs: sneakers, sandals, off-white pumps, black pumps, and steel-toed work/hiking boots. And my Noconas.
One of the other leaders said his wife had worn that many pairs just today!
I’m 40 pounds under my max weight.
Not worried about it.
Wow! You sound like you're right next door, like Darksheare and Darkchylde.
Keep eating. When you were home the last time, Asuncion said you were too thin - in the nicest possible way, of course.
In the sunroom with DP, who is still out-sick from his skin cancer surgery, and some catz.
I thought that was admirable, being a book, but if I were one, the last couple of chapters would be worm-eaten. *sigh*
Golly. Women are so complicated. All the time “Elaine” was babbling, I’m wondering what her hang up was, and thinking right along with “Roger.”
I guess the logic in the story is subtle enough to escape me. I only ever cried over a guy one, and that was because I was angry that he dissed me from another state, and I couldn’t deck the SOB! LOL!
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