Also:
I'm co-trustee of her potential future childrens' money
???
It doesn't make sense or you think it's weird?
And no, not Moira, a different great lesbian, and one I've actually met.
Both, I think. Can I say both?
The fact that I spent four years at Harvard and still have no fucking idea how trust funds work just proves that I don't know how to take advantage of my opportunities.
What relationship would that create between you and ogged? Besides the Mineshaft, I mean.
Well, he would be co-trustee of my money.
Can your ex adopt both of us? Or must I fight w-lfs-n? I'm fairly certain I can win, because w-lfs-n is short.
(I just imagine Ben as short, ergo, he is short. QED or something. (People have been using QED a lot lately. fad latin.))
Jeeze, don't even talk to me about karma. In 20 years I've amassed such a karmic debt that it'll take longer to pay off than my student loan.
& Much like my student loan, I've only been paying off the interest while barely scratching the principal.
*sigh*
I'm 5'11"-ish, maybe 6', Michael. But, in fairness, I am one scrawny sumbitch.
Even when I send the exes clear across the country to find me a wife, they come up with a lesbian I already know.
That could totally be the punch line to a shaggy dog / "fuck you, clown"-type story.
w-lfs-n, who do you think you're convincing? No one, shorty, that's who. But, as long as we're being honest, my body is decidedly not made for fighting. When the time comes to choose the One, we'll just have to come up with something else.
Guys, like, totally enough with the self-deprecating honesty. No one knows; be a muscle-bound badass for a while. (Actually, I have met w-lfs-n and Kotsko, and the only person's ass w-lfs-n could kick is maybe Kotsko's.)
You're back early, ogged. Swede wear you out?
We started a bit early. It was rough, but not the worst it's been. Do you know what sculling drills are? They suck.
Matt W., ex sets aside some "money" (equities, real estate, bonds, cash, whatever) for her children to claim when they're of age; until that time, the money needs to be managed--someone decides how best to invest it, and someone else, a trustee, oversees to make sure that the investment decisions aren't screwy, no one is skimming, etc. That's me. The idea with this particular arrangement is that if ex kicks the bucket prematurely, someone needs to have control over her assets. Obviously, her husband will have control over some chuck of her estate. But, just like with a prenup, this particular trust is intended to put some of the children's money under the control of someone other than the husband. In some ways, it's intensely strange to give your ex-boyfriend control of your children's money in case your husband tries to screw them. In other ways, hey, who else you gonna trust?
I am a muscle-bound badass. I'm so buff I can bench press your moms.
But I'm also delicate.
Gin-rummy?
I will destroy you all. And no, not in the superkoranic way.
Yeah, Labs is tall, but remember, he's got that bad ticker, so just make him chase you a bit.
I fondly remember the time I whiled away a ferry ride from Athens to Naxos playing gin with James Redfield, noted classicist and translator of classical texts (not the Celestine Prophecy guy).
See how an off-topic post kills the conversation, Ben?
My strategy is one of intimidation.
"...and I'll punctuate any motherfucker who gets in my grill."
Michael's random ejaculations do not constitute the topic.
I gotta go with Labs - reach matters. Plus he's got all that rage.
? I don't understand that, but I think I have to beat you up now.
(seriously? you don't understand that? just think about it...thinking about it? sicko!!)
Anyway.
Fight at the Mineshaft!
Loser keeps the Gayatollah from being lonely.
OK, since y'all are discussing ejaculation and shit I can share this link which ... well, it is about a cock and damn well better be a joke. Oh my.
PS ... and you gotta listen to it. Reading is not enough.
man, though, what a fine line between hilarious and creepy.
Who would have guessed that pg would be the one to take Unfogged to a new low?
Did the linked "pimp" picture strike you as perhaps a step or three beyond her prior pictures? She's movin' into uncharted waters, I think.
Well, there was the panty-blogging. I guess one just never knows when pg is going to transgress, as they say.
I, for one, encourage pg's adventurous nature.
I gotta tell you that I found it because of a google hit to my blog for "jerking while sleeping"
I'm a top hit for that (my stuff on restless leg syndrome). Then I decided I wanted to know what the top hits were for "jerking off while sleeping" and ... voila.
BTW, is that something one actually does, actively, while sleeping? Or, I guess if you're sleeping do you really know?
I wouldn't know, I wear titanium underpants to bed. Why take a chance?
That's a good strategy, ogged. I'd hate to think of what could happen ...
OK, I admit this is wierd. Somehow panty-blogging was substantially tamer than ... what to call it, what to call it...oh, hell... breast blogging. That is, I'm comfortable with a PG who wears panties (though I hate the word) but not with one who has noticeable breasts. The latter seems more likely to call out (in secret ways only they can hear) the Internet psychos.
The panty-blogging was...sweet. The breasts were...boom! Dunno about how psychos react to those things.
Y'know ... the thing about breasts, at least in my case, is that they simply are. Not much I can do about 'em. I didn't ask for them. I certainly didn't buy them (and I don't understand why people do, either). But they're there. I lived in fear of them for years, tried to hide them in clothes that made me look much heavier than I am, etc. I was traumatized because of them in high school (people said some really nasty shit about me and assumed I must get around when I was probably the last virgin standing in my high school).
And now ... I accept them. There they are. Sometimes they look bigger than other times (they're not THAT big. People who buy them buy them larger than mine. But I am a small person, so they perhaps look a bit bigger than they are).
BTW, the first time I blogged a shot with them in it and got a comment re: my breasts specifically I was totally surprised. Hadn't ever crossed my mind (not kidding). Now I just find it funny.
Yes, that picture accentuated your breasts quite a bit, I think. I wasn't complaining though. But I think Tim was. You probably shouldn't date him.
OK, what is this?
Michael, how'd you come across that?
Right, people should accept the breasts' presence as ready-at-hand, not as a fetish.
I may be crazy, but Tim's neurotic.
In other news, sun rises in East.
Note to self: Do not accept offer of date with Tim. Go out with Ogged instead. He did not complain about breasts in photo. He is not neurotic about breasts. Of course, he neurotically sleeps in titanium underwear, which could be a problem in and of itself ...
Ogged, an accident in coding and my fumbling at the computer, I think. I'm using Opera which allows a "fast forward" option (familiar? if a website seems to have a series of pages to flip through, it allows you to do that with the browser button, or mouse gesture.) I accidently fast forwarded at a certain point in the archives.
Mikey, that picture goes with this post.
Hey PG. Not afraid of them, exactly. I suspect what happens is that (as with the Rudy Huxtable post), I sort of poll my inner wrong man to see his response. All my own exes of note were up-cupped, so apparently I find breasts notable. As previously established, I find all non-granny underwear vaguely threatening, so panty-blogging is clearly funny as opposed to sexual. (I'm pretty sure this underwear thing previously knocked me out of the running). Add to that, something recently reminded me of how inappropriate guys with computers can be, and let bake in neuroses.
You need to embrace that inner wrong man.
"Up-cupped" is good.
Also, up-cupped is good. (How's that for embracing the inner wrong man?)
While you guys were slowly going blind staring at your CRTs, talking about ejaculation and pg's breasts (not that I can fault you for the latter, really), I was witnessing Sir Richard Bishop's masterful guitar playing, in a gypsy jazz/arabic/vaguely flamenco mode. I have no regrets whatsoever.
That does sound very nice, actually.
Hey b-dub, I just entered your contest.
shite, b-dub's contest. i need an extension.
Ogged, 58 was just "Why don't you come over?" again, and you notice pg is gone now? Work on yer game, dude, work on yer game.
You're right Matt; I never close the sale, as they say. I have to think about whether I want to change my methods, or just wait for the woman who's a deal closer.
And pg, if you're around--do you only wear the "I'm blogging this" shirt when you know you won't be meeting anyone you don't want to know about your blog?
Obviously she's on her way over, Matt.
I've only had the shirt long enough to wear it once ... but I did wear it out for drinks that evening with people who (a) know me; (b) don't know [i hope] about my blog; and (c) I don't want knowing about my blog. No one asked.
Perhaps they decided that they needed to read the text over and over, many times, to divine the mystery, before asking you about it.
Well, their eyes were scanning back and forth and back and forth and back and forth...
Maybe they thought "I'm" was one breast and "this" the other, so they were trying to figure out what "blogging" could possibly mean, in context.
You should see if the same thing happens with one of these.
Did you have that specially made, apo?
You can design them at the site there.
You know, I just thought:
Suppose I meet someone IRL who I think might be pg.
Usually when you're trying to figure out whether someone is someone you know you stare at their face. But where would I have to stare to check against my mental image of pg?
(Answer: At the smirk, probably.)
where would I have to stare
At the boots.
Ah, the difference one small letter makes.
