(Dujon) How dare you! I'm a face man also but when presented with these absurdly compressed mountains of flesh one cannot but notice them. But in terms of allure they are neither necessary nor sufficient.
Fair dos, Rosie. Sorry, Inkspot. I thought, like the plastic of penelope, it was just an image until, upon opening my morning paper, there was one of the photographs purporting to be a reproduction from a certain well know celebrity's wedding. Ruddy 'eck. I'll put my glass eye back in now.
We had a weekend in Luxembourg city a few years ago - probably about long enough. Very pleasant, good food (especially patisserie), terrific situation.
[Rosie] So did I. Wasn't there a DJ with Motor Neurone Disease whose wife was his sidekick on his evening show? And, for what it's worth, I once worked for a guy who had been a skipper on Radio Caroline.
Went to a conference there three years or so ago. It's, er, really small. They run bus tours of the whole country that leave the main square at noon, and are back by 3.30pm. Highlight of the trip? I bunked off the main conference dinner to go to a performance of a Handel opera at the Conservatoire (on the other side of town from Euroville, and so about 30 minutes walk ...). A stunning performance space - better than any I can think of in London of its size (about the capacity of the Barbican concert hall, I reckon). The piece was commissioned from Handel for a private occasion, and had never been performed since. A very, very fine performance it was too - only three singers IIRC, so very exposed, and they all coped and performed superbly. Excuse the slippage into anecdotage ... * wanders off, humming to self *
(pen) Don't remember that. There were no women on RL when I listened (about 1957-63). It was people like Sam Costa and Jack Jackson. I dusted off my old singles the other day and played some Duane Eddy, Fats Domino and Buddy Holly stuff. A nice lowbrow, nostalgic relaxation.
[Rosie] Wuld've been about 1973 when I listened. Eek. Now, Fats Domino is one of my favourites... excellent driving music! I had my worst 'Senior Moment' to date this morning. I now have a head full of deodorant rather than hair spray.
[Rosie]Well, I'm frankly offended if no-one has noticed my previous presence or recent absence - I haven't popped in much over the holiday, but this is my main procrastination site when I'm meant to be working at university. I missed all the bad puns.[Wol and Rosie]I did shorten my screenname from 'Knobbly Knees' because I couldn't be bothered to keep typing it. But, no I don't think they are really.
wrong products first thing in the morning are always a problem. I tried to brush my teeth with my hosuemate's hair gel once. I don't even USE the damn stuff, my hair is LONG, why did I even pick it up?
Having only just discovered the joys of mc5 I noticed last night I appear to share my handle with another. I apologise wholeheartedly, and shall henceforth submit as Pooksadaisy.
(Simons Mith) The irony is,toothpaste gives me more style and hold than any other hair product.
(Projoy) It was quite an old post on ...so help me god, but it's no great shakes to modify my eke-name. On a lighter note however, as I write this the rain is hammering on my window and the river levels are rising, which means that tomorrow I'll go kayaking instead of trawling through old MC games.
(Rosie) It's funny you should say that. Many is the time, when gambolling over the wind swept fells or careening down a grade three Lakeland river,that I've dreamed of rolling up my flat cap, selling the whippet and moving to Orpington.
Welcome, Pooksad. I admire your pastime (there's a white water rapid place just down the road from me) although I've never understood the fun to be found in getting oneself withchered.
[Chalky] According to wah wah wah dot myjellybean.com/dream/paget.html, "If your teeth fell out or you spit them out, you are anxious about money." Were they grey and rotten? Health problems. Loose? Untrustworthy friends. Broken and worn down? Relationship problems.
My recurring nightmare involves wandering around an empty house trying all the doors which are locked, but when I get to the last door I know it's unlocked but I'm afraid to open it. I have this dream a couple of times a year.
I'm usually trussed up in a pink tutu amongst a troupe of ballet dancers in perfect step, trying desperately to keep up, but, to the amusement of the audience, always a few steps behind :-)
One I used to have occasionally was about football. I was running down the right wing on to a pass but could never, ever, EVER quite reach it, and it all happened in slow motion. And why the right wing? I could no more cross a ball with my right foot than I could speak fluent Basque. It was for standing on. Not a very good footballer.
(nights) I wouldn't worry if I were you, it's probably just an irrational fear of your life slipping away followed by eternity in a cold dark hole in the ground, while the people you knew and loved, move in like jackels to pick over the remains of your life. Personally, I like to bear in mind what Hume said, which goes something like "don't try making sense of it all, just go and play pool instead."
I keep dreaming about being on a train, and desperately trying to get somewhere, and it’s always very stressful. In the last one, my mum and I managed to avoid the conductor and didn’t even pay for our tickets by running along the train the whole trip. My cat was in one of the carriages and looked rather surprised as I pelted past her. No-one else was bothered, though.
Oh, I get those too - assorted on-the-wrong-train or missed-the-connection dreams. Mind you that happens often in real life, so no great mystery there.
I don't have train dreams... is that because I don't travel by train? Or am I emotionally disabled in some way? I do have driving dreams from time to time - and my late father is sometimes a passenger, which is nice.
I used to have loads of train dreams, but they eventually finished. Often I was waiting for a train, or stopping a train that was running, or trying to get off a moving train. Also lots of lift dreams, where they would malfunction or catch fire. I've been stuck in plenty of lifts in real life, but it's never frightened me, I think it's just a mental symbol for feeling stuck in an awkward situation in life. Similar with the trains. (None of that was my recurring nightmare, though, but that's a bit odd even for here.) Still, enough about my insanity.
I've never had a train dream. We don't use them much on the west coast of the States. I've had pen's teeth dream countless times, and the other night I dreamed I was searching for treasure in a lost tomb. I fell through a trap floor and got bit by a snake.
Strangely enough I had the treasure dream the other night, but rather than get bitten by a snake I discovered the treasure at the top of a pyramid. It was Gilette razors. Tch, even my dreams are sponsored now.
[Pooks] thanks :-) - not wishing to tempt fate but the latest few should all have 'bravo' stamped on them. Have you visited the Limerick games in the other two servers yet?
[Darren] Your train dreams - did they stop around the time of the Beeching report? [teeth] Not had that one for a while - used to get it a lot. Incredibly vivid - the dream was that I was lying in bed, trying to get to sleep, with my teeth falling out like toppling dominoes. The segue between the dream and waking to feel in my mouth was imperceptible. I had understood it to mean nothing more specific than insecurity; which I would put my hand up to at the time.
(Chalky) Just spent the last hour in absolute tears, just what I needed. I am currently having too much of a good thing in my neck of the woods. I spent all summer waiting for it to rain so I could go kayaking, guess what, my local river has in the space of a week, gone from a stagnant trickle to a grade 5 raging monster, with holes and stoppers that would eat you alive if you got too near. Hoo hum.
I give up. Men are a complete mystery. Why would anyone approach you, chat you up (yeah, online, I admit), call you when you least expect it, then invite you out on a date, only to stand you up without a word? I sat in the bar of I bet Berkhamstead's Cafe Rouge drinking coke for half an hour, feeling like an idiot. I bet the patron has seen it a thousand times... At least I have the satisfaction of knowing I'm not the one who acted like a jerk.
[Darren] ;-) [pen] We're not all complete prats; I can only apologise for those that are, and are bad enough not to apologise for themselves. The guy in question - he isn't the patron of Cafe Rouge in Berkhamsted, is he?
[Wol] He's not the patron, no... and thanks :o) I think I wrote that in a kind of early-morning rage. *sigh* Onwards and upwards... salsa dancing tonight. At least if anyone does you wrong at salsa dancing, they're right there in front of you and you can kick their shins.
Anyone want to hear about salsa dancing? I'm going to tell you anyway. It was brilliant! My first time, and the men were still hopeless - they're supposed to lead, and either I'm not listening carefully enough or they're too scared to be firm and lead properly. I suspect it might be my fault... mwahahaha!
(pen) Most men, and especially musicians, can't dance unless they're pissed, and don't actually like it, except as a grope. But some can, and I wish you well. :-)
I can't dance unless it's a really grinding techno beat. at which point it doesn't matter. however I echo Rosie when I say that some men (including me) enjoy dancing 'properly', and I'm sure you will find one. but you can't have me for several reasons, the most important of which being that an ocean separates us. *sigh*.
I'm with Rosie, penelope. I have not had a dancing lesson in my life to date. I also suspect that I am one of a majority of males in that situation. Years ago, as a teenager, I looked at some books on the subject (well, one) which was full of black and white footprints. I gave up. When I watch accomplished dancers - and I'm not speaking of those 'professionals' who trip the light fantastic with fixed grins on their faces - I can see that many people gain much pleasure from the exercise. You are now allowed to address me as Wallflower.
Please, chaps, don't give up. Dancing with a man leading is one of the nicest things I've done for a long time. They're itching for more men to join in, and if you just take a deep breath and dive in with a beginner's class (which is what I did last night), follow the teacher for an hour - which is all enjoyable - you'll be rewarded with a floor full of ladies to choose from. It's not hard, you just have to count: one, two, three... five, six, seven... and practice. The music is great, they hand out flyers for more events while you're there - I could dance four nights a week without a permanent partner and without driving too far at all if I wanted - and they even sell beer there. What more could you want? My motivations for dancing? To get out of the house, perhaps find a nice man to dance with more than once, and to get a smaller arse!