I will only say: May you never forget the beauty of love.
I think that's a fine wish for all of us. The only thing I would add is this: May we all experience love as often and as deep as possible.
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I will only say: May you never forget the beauty of love.
I think that's a fine wish for all of us. The only thing I would add is this: May we all experience love as often and as deep as possible.
I finally watched the episode of Through The Wormhole that I've been waiting for. I'm an avid follower of anything and everything related to physics, cosmology, and quantum mechanics, and when I heard this special episode was going to be on, I couldn't wait for it.
Basically, it centers around the four-decades-long quest to manifest and measure a Higgs boson particle, via the Large Hadron Collider. Sometimes called the "God particle," it is the supposed reason for the creation and subsequent evolution of the universe. Without it, energy would never (according to theory) have coalesced into mass, and we would therefore not exist.
I was happy to see that my own personal theory -- that the Higgs boson might be related to dark energy -- was shared by at least a few scientists out there.
Okay, enough high-brow. I need to get back to writing smut.
There's not enough smut in colliding hard-ons? And Ms. Higgs' bosom? You know, the part that causes men to exclaim "God!" and whose manifestation has led to a great quest to actually measure it? And watching all this through a hole?
Seems to me, Slyc, that you've just written some smut.
OK, I probably just have time for my blurt, at last! before I get on with clearing the kitchen and washing up and doing the ironing - but that's another blurt.
I just want a blurt (unless anyone on here has really good advice about repressing powerful emotions - ha ha, exactly). Just move along now and don't bother to read this, it's full of swear words such as a lady like wot I am very rarely uses. (Although I do say them in a very posh voice, placing heavy emphasis on the 'ck' sound and going 'ffffff' if you like that kind of thing.)
So the stupid line manager, all I asked was Can she move back my tutorial by an hour to noon because my train gets in only 20 minutes beforehand, which is not really enough time to get from the station to the venue and if the train is delayed, I will be late. She emails back, what's the problem? I repeat: I only have 20 minutes to get there and everything. If you don't mind me being late, that's fine but can you move it back to noon. After several days, she emails to say: Can't you get an earlier train? And now I have to email and say: I am leaving the house at 6 am on the first train of the day. I get home at 7 pm, after a 13 hour day. I went up there to teach the tutorial last Saturday in six inches of snow. Do you seriously think I'm not doing enough here?!!! Can you move the fucking tutorial because if it's a problem I don't care but if it's easy, can't you make my life a bit easier? Are you a fucking line manager or someone who just likes to make problems for everyone so you can run around like a headless chicken pretending that we need you, when actually we could get on a lot better without your so-called management. Don't even answer that, you fucking headless chicken.
And BTW, thank you headless chicken, for putting me up to do all the tutorials for which travelling is required, even though there are other people who don't have small children so wouldn't have had to sacrifice family time to do this. Without asking me.
And no, I've decided I don't want to do that little bit of teaching which you are completely unclear about how much it is, how long it would go on for, whether I'd have to do marking too, and how much I might get paid for it.
Smile and wave, Smith, smile and wave. Just think about the salary and say: That'll do nicely!!!! (Except about the underpaid extra teaching, just smile and wave that past - lovely.)
Ahhh, fucking whisky, I think, I'm going back to Naked Party and I shall be calling in on my bottle of Talisker en route. And then I shall do the fucking clearing and fucking washing up and fucking ironing. Having already bathed the child and put it to bed and phoned the Outlaw Dad to make sure he's not off with the fairies, after the Outlaw Granny phoned in a panic and phoned her to soothe her - yes he is still alive. But I have not of course phoned the Fella to say: Where the Fuck are you?!!! (unlike the woman of every other man he is out with) because I know, and it doesn't really matter which pub.
Just smile and wave, Dragon, let's go to Naked Party.
Just returned from the cinema after watching a live transmission of the modern ballet Alice from the Royal Opera House.
It was a wonderful evening at a reasonable cost, discounted for senior citizens. While I'd like to see such performances AT the Royal Opera House, I don't want to take out a mortgage for one evening's entertainment.
If the tickets had been £50 each I might have been reluctant to see a ballet I'd never seen, but at £10 each with free car parking - Bliss!
I wish we could get such culture up in my neck of the woods.
We get Met Opera & NY Ballet on AMC theater screens in my area
McKenna.
Moved by your sadness. It's a privilege to spend a flicker of time with you and yours.
(I came on to blurt about something else but I realise I haven't even got time to blurt, LOL! Laters.)
Erotic authors can turn anything dirty.
...Just move along now and don't bother to read this, it's full of swear words such as a lady like wot I am very rarely uses...
Man, ain't that the truth! And usually at the MOST inappropriate times, too.
I have to admit that there have been numerous times in which I have wished I wasn't a writer of erotic prose (or for that matter, a guy with hormones still raging after four decades). Just about every one of those times has come when my wonderful, innocent daughter has said something that just sounds . . . funny. And those dirty little wheels start spinning, and I try to resist . . . I really, really do . . . yet, there's that snicker, that blush, that sidelong comment.
And the funniest part is that I look at my wife and she already knows why I'm laughing.
< smiles & waves, if somewhat vacantly >
You set out an absolute dream of a problem for which one should write a rebuttal to your HC. I've had arguments (as in debates) like this before. They are fun. One can have hours of literary amusement with them.
We have a similar set of problems with my part-time organisation. 'Regional Head Office' won't pay for a phone line to be put in but expected all outposts to be able to get everything electronically, rather than the old way - by post.
But they don't like the idea of us fixing things for ourselves locally; at all.
So we'm between a rock and a hard place.
[B said:McKenna[/B]]Ooooh, I think I like it when you swear. But then, I'm a sucker for passionate outbursts.
And before you know it they're trying to change the subject when their girlfriend asks for the links to your erotic stories because that's the good stuff and she wants to read all of them. He's 39, not embarrassed as much as he is uncomfortable by the erotica.
I haven't that exact problem yet. At this point, it's more a measure of suppressing the natural inclination I have to pervert ordinary words and phrases.
Honestly, as she become older, I think it will be easier. Or I hope, anyway.
LOL, yes she will be able to teach you the new words and mobile phone shenanigans she picks up at school.