Bistro Bijou

[unpredictablebijou]

*Michael Hutchence*

Right. Him.

And Hogan from Hogan's Heroes.

wacky, huh?

I've done some crazy shit, left alone in a room, but I've never actually endangered my own life.

Sanity, yes. Reputation, most assuredly. But not my actual life. Not yet, anyway.

bj

 

[tungtied2u]

Right. Him.

And Hogan from Hogan's Heroes.

wacky, huh?

I've done some crazy shit, left alone in a room, but I've never actually endangered my own life.

Sanity, yes. Reputation, most assuredly. But not my actual life. Not yet, anyway.

bj

All things come to she who waits....

(p.s.- some would say sanity is life threatening)

 

[the Snood]

So auto-erotic asphyxiation isn't familiar to you, then.

That guy from INXS (which I prounounced inx-es for years until someone corrected me) died thusly.

Hey Snood! What'll ya have?

bj

Indeed 'tis, although it's not my cup o' mud. Autoerotic strangulation, however...? Kinky.

I'll have a mug o' the house coffee and a lemon wedge.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Indeed 'tis, although it's not my cup o' mud. Autoerotic strangulation, however...? Kinky.

I'll have a mug o' the house coffee and a lemon wedge.

Comin' up. And if you like, there's a group gathering over in the corner to cover Angeline with fritters next time she's in.

How would you like your lemon wedge: stuck into your mouth as wacky yellow teeth, or squeezed down the back of your neck under your shirt?

*it's okay, folks. He's one I know personally*

bj

 

[the Snood]

Yet another Johnny Depp fact:

Johnny Depp tried a stint as a marriage counsellor, but grew weary of fending off the husbands' advances.

 

[the Snood]

How would you like your lemon wedge: stuck into your mouth as wacky yellow teeth, or squeezed down the back of your neck under your shirt?

bj

The latter, PLEASE!

 

[unpredictablebijou]

The latter, PLEASE!

*funny. usually he prefers the teeth thing.*

but hey, in the Bistro we aims to please.

 

[Homburg]

I too thought poetry was supposed to rhyme...

I always ryhme. You just have to parse the ryhme across multiple poems. It's complex. And, wow, it's tough to get the meter right though...

 

[unpredictablebijou]

I always ryhme. You just have to parse the ryhme across multiple poems. It's complex. And, wow, it's tough to get the meter right though...

Man, I never thought of that.

Maybe....

Maybe I've only actually written one poem in my entire life, and it is 870 pages long.

I'll have to go check.

Hi Hommie-HatBoy-MisterMasterSirSpanky!

Wish I were staying longer, but I have to stop hobnobbing soon and go home for dinner.

How's it hangin'?

bj

 

[Homburg]

Man, I never thought of that.

Maybe....

Maybe I've only actually written one poem in my entire life, and it is 870 pages long.

I'll have to go check.

There are days that I actually think about this sort of thing. What would my work look like were it lines up piece after turgid piece, text snaking out in irregular stanzaic segments, with simple "Roses are red" poems to my mother as a kindergartener at the head and today's thin offerings bringing up the slinking rear.

I wonder what sort of picture it would produce, what sort of evolution and progress would I witness? Ape to neandertal to upright man to bottle of chili picante with less focus than a fogged up camera lens.

Harrumph. My mind's eye examines the coral snake of my literary leavings and is non-plussed.

Hi Hommie-HatBoy-MisterMasterSirSpanky!

Wish I were staying longer, but I have to stop hobnobbing soon and go home for dinner.

How's it hangin'?

bj

It hangs limp and exhausted, frankly. Wow, I'm tired. It's a good tired though, and I earned my exhaustion the finest way possible.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

.
.

Let me interrupt this fascinating chat about fitting pipes with some entertainment news — a synopsis of a program that aired last night.

For those of you who may have missed it, last night's mystery on Cold Case involved the apparent suicide in 1962 of the wife of a struggling poet who later moves on to become Pennsylvania's poet laureate. Forty-six years later, her granddaughter brings her grandmother's suicide note to the detectives, questioning the finding of suicide — the handwriting on the note didn't match her grandmother's handwriting. So begins another fascinating Cold Case program as they wade through the possible suspects:

● the grad student, thought to be stalking her, only to find out he was stalking the husband, for whom he had a crush; the 60's weren't a good time to be gay.

● the nanny who was jealous of the wife for her good looks and the ease with which she had gotten as good a catch as her poet husband. It finally develops that she knew the wife's mother had been institutionalized, so she set about a plan to make the wife think she was losing her mind too.

● the husband who was working on what later became a famous book of poetry and secured his position as Pennsylvania's poet laureate. Everyone swore he was hopelessly in love with his wife.

During the course of the program one of the detectives kept reading the poet's book, while another couldn't understand it; saying at one point that he thought poetry was supposed to rhyme. It was the one detective's familiarity with the poetry in the book that ultimately helps them solve the case, just when they thought it was a false alarm and they couldn't disprove the suicide finding.

The stay at home wife was shown in flashbacks to be rather high-strung and always imagining she was hearing things. She was also seen to be frequently hard at work on a typewriter. It develops that she was typing out her own poetry which her husband-poet was filching. She confronts him and, in a jealous rage, he strangles her. It turns out that the poetry book he later published, which led to his becoming famous and secures his position as Pennsylvania's poet laureate, was her writing. He confesses and admits to being just a mediocre and technically adequate poet, while his wife was knocking out poetry with ease on her typewriter.

Poets can be so wildly emotional.


As an aside, Pennsylvania is one of eight states that has no poet laureate.

Now y'all can get on back to fitting your pipes and whatever...

.
.

Hello honeybunch you do realise that when they show that in the uk you have now ruined the plot don't you? So I require recompense of the over the knee variety or better still we could take turns .. so who's going first?

Indeed 'tis, although it's not my cup o' mud. Autoerotic strangulation, however...? Kinky.

I'll have a mug o' the house coffee and a lemon wedge.

Hi I am Annie the sane one or so my voices tell me the rest are just mad that my voices only talk to me. Are you kinky then? Being a friend of Bijou why am I not surprised?

There are days that I actually think about this sort of thing. What would my work look like were it lines up piece after turgid piece, text snaking out in irregular stanzaic segments, with simple "Roses are red" poems to my mother as a kindergartener at the head and today's thin offerings bringing up the slinking rear.

I wonder what sort of picture it would produce, what sort of evolution and progress would I witness? Ape to neandertal to upright man to bottle of chili picante with less focus than a fogged up camera lens.

Harrumph. My mind's eye examines the coral snake of my literary leavings and is non-plussed.



It hangs limp and exhausted, frankly. Wow, I'm tired. It's a good tired though, and I earned my exhaustion the finest way possible.

Can I kiss it better (on my knees)?

 

[LeBroz]

Hello honeybunch you do realise that when they show that in the uk you have now ruined the plot don't you? So I require recompense of the over the knee variety or better still we could take turns .. so who's going first?

Me first...

.
.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Pants down bottoms up anddddddddd slapppppppppppppppp ... goodness you bounce well

 

[LeBroz]

Pants down bottoms up anddddddddd slapppppppppppppppp ... goodness you bounce well

Ohhhhh ... thank you, may I have another?

...

assuming the kneeling position to give the proper thanks and apology...​

yum

.
.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Ohhhhh *the kneeling position* oh yes um er what was I saying oooooo my legs have gone all wobbly ..... I once thought I would like to have been in ancient Rome with a slave employed solely for that position while attending feasts, orgies etc

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Here's a little something I picked up for the decor

http://i306.photobucket.com/albums/nn276/itsannier/switch.jpg

 

[Homburg]

Can I kiss it better (on my knees)?

Well, seeing as how you asked nicely, and added the last part, I might be willing.

Ohhhhh *the kneeling position* oh yes um er what was I saying oooooo my legs have gone all wobbly ..... I once thought I would like to have been in ancient Rome with a slave employed solely for that position while attending feasts, orgies etc

How you doin?

 

[Anschul]

And were the above not fictional, Pensylvania cops would have to be sorely incompetent. I'd not previously heard of a suicide by strangulation...

the Snood, geek of the plains

Having been born in Pennsylvania, I think I know a bit about Pennsylvania oddities. I look in the mirror every day.

By the way, I'm glad to see that Champagne picked up kitchen duties while BJ had me otherwise disposed, but that's all done now (and boy did SHE teach ME a few thingies), and after I complete my day of rest today (off Tuesdays, especially this one, when I'm a bit weary from a week of high-energy activity), will return to the kitchen tomorrow with a bundle of fine recipes made from stuff that tastes like chicken (so they tell me). But I'll start off tomorrow with an osso bucco that tastes nothing like chicken but is guaranteed to wiggle your wriggle.

And Annie, that light switch ought to be down (at least that's how I'm feeling at the moment--thanks a heap, BJ--but I guarantee I'll recover)

* runs off to hide from UPBJ *

 

[UnderYourSpell]

You sound like an over stuffed arm chair (needing re-covering? oh never mind sigh)

 

[Anschul]

You sound like an over stuffed arm chair (needing re-covering? oh never mind sigh)

Har Har. I get it!!

 

[unpredictablebijou]

*wanders in, buttoning dress. Grabs an enormous cup of coffee.*

Late start today. Nice to see the place already hoppin'.

*eyes the room for Cheffophilia. Pretends not to notice him disappearing under table*

There are days that I actually think about this sort of thing. What would my work look like were it lines up piece after turgid piece, text snaking out in irregular stanzaic segments, with simple "Roses are red" poems to my mother as a kindergartener at the head and today's thin offerings bringing up the slinking rear.

I wonder what sort of picture it would produce, what sort of evolution and progress would I witness? Ape to neandertal to upright man to bottle of chili picante with less focus than a fogged up camera lens.

Harrumph. My mind's eye examines the coral snake of my literary leavings and is non-plussed.
***

It hangs limp and exhausted, frankly. Wow, I'm tired. It's a good tired though, and I earned my exhaustion the finest way possible.

Damn, boy, that's poetry right there.

You should write. *grin*

well, if you ever get any spare, non-naked-and-sweaty moments, anyway. Maybe next year.

Hello honeybunch you do realise that when they show that in the uk you have now ruined the plot don't you? So I require recompense of the over the knee variety or better still we could take turns .. so who's going first?



Hi I am Annie the sane one or so my voices tell me the rest are just mad that my voices only talk to me. Are you kinky then? Being a friend of Bijou why am I not surprised?



Can I kiss it better (on my knees)?

Worse than a friend. He actually has to live with me.

Pants down bottoms up anddddddddd slapppppppppppppppp ... goodness you bounce well

Having been born in Pennsylvania, I think I know a bit about Pennsylvania oddities. I look in the mirror every day.

By the way, I'm glad to see that Champagne picked up kitchen duties while BJ had me otherwise disposed, but that's all done now (and boy did SHE teach ME a few thingies), and after I complete my day of rest today (off Tuesdays, especially this one, when I'm a bit weary from a week of high-energy activity), will return to the kitchen tomorrow with a bundle of fine recipes made from stuff that tastes like chicken (so they tell me). But I'll start off tomorrow with an osso bucco that tastes nothing like chicken but is guaranteed to wiggle your wriggle.

And Annie, that light switch ought to be down (at least that's how I'm feeling at the moment--thanks a heap, BJ--but I guarantee I'll recover)

* runs off to hide from UPBJ *

Well well well well.

Apparently we need to open a little strip club in the basement of the Bistro.

What a nice space this is to land first thing in my day.

Gotta say I'm STOKED about the May challenge. This is going to help me get an enormous amount of stuff OFF of me, to make space for the new things. I was up til four or so editing both last night and the night before.

Editing. I don't care what Chef says.

okay not just editing.

bj

 

[UnderYourSpell]

You mean he is one of your HUSBANDS !!!!!!!
~~~~~~sigh~~~~~ no-one even noticed me pins shall go sulk and find another AV

 

[Anschul]

Speaking of editing, and because this is, after all, a porn site, I have to submit the following for your (especially you, bj) approval:

I just got finished a freelance writing job for a guy who is building what he (ironically) calls an educational site. The assignment was to take 29 animations (he called them "movies") and write 500- 600-word descriptions of what was going on, from an "educational" perspective. But he wanted me to include the entire scope of the experience, including the build-up to "completion" (his word). I actually got paid for this job, in real live American dollars, at a pretty hefty rate, for what turned out to be about 18000 words. The thing is about a surreal as you can imagine, but it paid the rent, so have a look. The web site I wrote this for is not yet up (it's sourced out of India), but HERE is a preview of

THE FUTURE OF SEX EDUCATION​

​

Just click any of the buttons at the bottom and be prepared to be entertained by someone else's animations and my stellar writing. Line forms to the rear.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Speaking of editing, and because this is, after all, a porn site, I have to submit the following for your (especially you, bj) approval:

I just got finished a freelance writing job for a guy who is building what he (ironically) calls an educational site. The assignment was to take 29 animations (he called them "movies") and write 500- 600-word descriptions of what was going on, from an "educational" perspective. But he wanted me to include the entire scope of the experience, including the build-up to "completion" (his word). I actually got paid for this job, in real live American dollars, at a pretty hefty rate, for what turned out to be about 18000 words. The thing is about a surreal as you can imagine, but it paid the rent, so have a look. The web site I wrote this for is not yet up (it's sourced out of India), but HERE is a preview of

THE FUTURE OF SEX EDUCATION​

​

Just click any of the buttons at the bottom and be prepared to be entertained by someone else's animations and my stellar writing. Line forms to the rear.

I really like how the female-superior, rear facing position is referred to as "normal" and missionary position is "backwards."

I also totally love this line. It made me lol:

Joel and Jackie are extremely fond of this standing-up, rear-entry position, as they often like to have a go in unusual places.

WTF why am I making jewelry all day when I could make a living writing like that?

Oh wait yeah. The porn I get to watch at work is WAY better than those movies.

Congrats on the gig. What a hoot that must have been...

bj

 

[Homburg]

Damn, boy, that's poetry right there.

You should write. *grin*

well, if you ever get any spare, non-naked-and-sweaty moments, anyway. Maybe next year.
bj

I am neither naked, nor sweaty, as of this moment.

Just click any of the buttons at the bottom and be prepared to be entertained by someone else's animations and my stellar writing. Line forms to the rear.

Not a bad gig, Anschul. Good on ya =)