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Pastimes : NNBM - SI Branch -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: elpolvo who wrote (6456)	10/22/2001 4:37:19 PM
From: jeremy_atticus	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 104160

Polvie, or should I say "Mr. Polvie", is this thread moderated? I don't know enough about S.I. to tell which is, and which is not. Moderated that is, and how would one know, unless told. I mean, if I say the wrong "thing", who is the Judge, Jury, and executioner? I don't post much, but don't want to p.o. the wrong person. The who is more important than the what. JA(just asking)

To: elpolvo who wrote (6456)	10/22/2001 4:40:12 PM
From: abuelita	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 104160

harry if it's any consolation, i'm putting mice elf in there wif ya. hand me that dusty bottle of 1967 peach ripple over there. - can i join you. let me know if you've got any Chateneauf du Pape. if not, i'll bring my own. sally

To: elpolvo who wrote (6456)	10/23/2001 7:40:54 PM
From: Clappy	Read Replies (3) \| Respond to of 104160

<Clappy walks into the NNBM Saloon and hangs his bad attitiude on a peg with the rest of the 6 shooters.> <He throws his cowboy hat, frisby style, 30 feet across the bar room and lands it perfectly on the coat rack/hat post near the booths.> <He unlocks the Whine Cellar door that Polvie accidentally allowed to shut behind himself as he went down there to taste test some of the vintage bottles of Red and White to figure out which ones go best with Clappy's Blues...> <Clappy whistles down the stairs to Polvie who appears to not even know that the door was locked.> <The smiling wine tester merrily hops up the rough sawed wooden staircase up to the top and give a big hug to Clappy The PM Sharing Jackass. He smiles at the camera that beams these words to billions of people across the world and blows a kiss to his wonderwoman Bonnie and mumbles something about his Royal Irish Arse as he taps on the microphone to see if it working...> <Clappy walks with him over to the NNBM bar and pours a glass of water for the Polverizer and a shot of Tequilla for himself. They both slam them back and repeat the process until Clappy catches up to the nice buzzing feeling that allows Polvie to smile as widely as he has been.> <Clappy takes hold of his beer chaser and attempts to leave it half full. He then takes the old gallon jug of the Blues and pours it down the sink.> That stanky stuff hasn't been allowing me to be myself lately. It's too strong. Made with funky grapes. Makes me do stupid things. Walking around trying to teach people the way they should think. Then obnoxiously trying to convince them that they are wrong should they try to think otherwise. The Blues felt good for a while but it sure puts you under it's spell quickly. Often it makes you feel stupid the following morning. Makes you wonder if you really said that. The Blues makes you feel sorry for yourself and unapologetic to others you hurt. Almost like you want them to hurt as badly as you do, so you know they understand the way you are feeling. I also looked at the label and realized this stuff was distilled in Afghanistan and Iraq. So perhaps it's laced with something a little stronger. Something that isn't good for me. Maybe it's as bad as the Anthrax they've been mailing to us. <Clappy puts his arm around his buddy and says nothing to him. They both understand the admiration they have for each other. No words are said at all. Just silence.> <Suddenly a light bulb appears above both of their heads. In synchonicity, the battle to grab each others underwear waistband begins as they both resort to giving each other wedgies instead of political discussion...> Sorry for being a weenie, lately. When I vent on foreign threads I get banned so I tend to vent here. I'll try to lighten it up a little. -Clappy