Morford ping
Posted on 05/19/2004 7:10:45 AM PDT by presidio9
It was just like cocaine -- but without the rehab and the stroke and the painful deviated septum.
It was that mad tingling heart-stopping hormone-soaked high school rush you enjoyed when you finally worked up sufficient nerve to pick up the phone and call that insanely delicious guy/girl you had that mad inexplicable unrelenting crush on because, well, you just had to. Remember?
And then it happened. You heard the click and her voice uttered this mellifluous "Hello?" and time suddenly stopped and your breath caught in your throat and your stomach leaped into your eternity, and you hung up instantly as your heart just about exploded in excitement and love and the sheer unbridled terror that she might figure out it was you.
Back then, there was no Caller ID. There was no *69. There were barely any answering machines, not just yet. She could not possibly know the person calling was that love-struck kid who sat behind to her in Bio and could barely breathe when she spoke up in class and who was in a constant swoon because she smelled like Obsession and cashmere and divinity.
(Excerpt) Read more at sfgate.com ...
More great writing at the SFGate.
Ah yes, where would Miss Morford be without *69?
Morford is obviously a barebacker... bug chasing or gift giving?
Morford ping
In the unlikely event that Morford is recalling this vignette from personal experience, it would be proof positive that he wasn't born that way. So whom do we have to blame for warping young Morford into middle-aged Miss Morford?
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