Dear Connie, …
…
I know the counsellor said we should’t contact each other during our “cooling off” period, but I could’t wait anymore.
…
The day you left, I swore I’d never talk to you again but that was just the wounded little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that. But now I see that me pride’s cost me a lot of things. I’m tired of pretending I don’t miss you. Maybe it’s time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. …
…
This is what my heart says: “There’s no one like you, Connie. I look for you in the eyes and вrеаsтs of every woman I see, but they’re not you. They’re not even close.
Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingos and brought her home with me. I don’t say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth of my desperation. She was young, maybe 19; with one of those perfect bodies that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect body. Тiтs like you wouldn’t believe and an аss that just wouldn’t quit. Every man’s dream, right?
As I sat on the couch being blown by this stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we’ve made important in our lives. It’s all so superficial. What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes, but you see what I’m getting at. Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart that my moderately attractive Connie? I doubt it. And I’d never really thought of that before. I don’t know, maybe I’m just growing up a little.
Later, after I’d tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, “Why do I feel so drained and empty?” It wasn’t just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else. Some nagging feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it hit me. It didn’t feel the same because you weren’t there to watch. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, Connie, Im just going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you.
Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at the Holiday Inn last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured I wasn’t eating right without a woman around. I didn’t know what she meant till later, but that’s not the real story. Anyway, we had a few glasses or wine and the next thing you know, we’re ваnging away in our old bedroom. And this таrт’s a total monster in the sack. She’s giving me everything, you know, like a real woman does when she’s not hung up about her weight or her career and whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden, she spots that tilting mirror on your grandmother’s old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it’s totally hot, but it makes me sad, too because I can’t help thinking, “Why didn’t Connie ever put the mirror on the floor? We’ve had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sеx toy.”
Saturday, your little sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicki’s just a kid and all, but she’s got a pretty good head on her shoulders and she’s been a real friend to me during this painful time. She’s given me lots of good advice about you and about women in general. She’s pulling for us to get back together. Connie, she really is.
So we’re doing Jell-O shots in a hot bubble bath and talking about happier times. Here’s this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18. And that just about makes me cry. And then it turns out Vicky’s really into that whole аnаl thing, that gets me to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fueled some of the bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I’m thrusting inside your baby sister’s cinnamon ring, all I can do it think of you?
It’s true, Connie. In your heart you must know it. Don’t you think we could start over? Just wipe out all the grievances away and start fresh? I think we can. If you feel the same please, please, please let me know.
Otherwise, can you let me know where the fuскing remote is?
There once were two Irishmen named Раddy and Sean, who were the best of friends. During one particular night of revelry, the two agreed that when one passed on, the other would take and spill the contents of a bottle of fine, Irish whiskey over the grave of the fondly missed and recently dead friend. …
…
As fate would have it, Sean would be the first to pass. …
…
Раddy, hearing of his friend’s illness, came to visit his dear friend one last time. …
…
“Sean,” said Раddy, “can ye hear me?” …
…
Faintly, Sean replied, “Yes, Раddy, I can.”
Bashfully, Раddy started, “Do ye remember our pact, Sean?”
“Yes, I do, Раddy,” Sean strained.
“And, you’ll also remember that I was to pour the contents of a fine, old bottle of Irish whiskey over your grave, which we have been saving for going on 30 years now?” said Раddy.
“Yes Раddy, I do,” whispered Sean.
“It’s a very old bottle now, ye know,” urged Раddy.
“And what are ye gettin’ at, Раddy?” asked Sean, briskly.
“Well Sean, when I pour the whiskey over your grave, would ye mind if I filter it through me kidneys first?”
“Bless me father- for I have sinned. I have been with a loose woman.”
The priest asks, “Is that you, little Tommy Shaughnessy?”
“Yes, Father, it is.
“And, who was the woman you were with?”
“Sure and I can’t be tellin’ you Father. I don’t want to ruin her reputation.”
“Well, Tommy, I’m sure to find out sooner or later, so you may as well tell me now. Was it Brenda O’Malley?”
“I cannot say.”
“Was it Patricia Kelly?”
“I cannot say.”
“Was it Liz Shannon?”
“I’m sorry, but I cannot name her.”
“Was it Cathy Morgan?”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Was it Fiona McDonald, then?”
“Please, Father, I cannot tell you.”
The priest sighs in frustration.
“You’re a steadfast lad,Tommy Shaughnessy,and I admire that. But you’ve sinned, and you must atone. You cannot attend church mass for three full months. Be off with you ”
now!”
Tommy walks back to his pew.
His friend Sean slides over to his seat and whispers “well… what’d you get?”
“Three months vacation and five good leads.”
========
A man had come back from his hunting trip in Africa. He Gloats to his friend about the Giant, silver back Gorilla he had spent the whole time tracking.
"All I had on me to кill it was my lucky Cricket Bat, my Hunting Rifle with only one bullet, and my two Hunting Knives" explained the man.
"Did you кill it in the end?" asked his friend.
"Sure did" Grinned the man. "It was quite tricky, but I did"
"How so?" said the friend.
"Well" he explained, "when I had finally found the beast, I first attempted to knock it out with my bat, but the brute snatched it out my hand, pushed me aside, and snapped it half. Angry at loss of my lucky bat, I preceded to load my one bullet into my rifle and fired at the animal, but the swift giт was quick enough to dodge it. I was furious at this point, I threw my gun the floor, and in my rage I took out both of my knives and threw them at him, but the cheeky ваsтаrd managed to catch both of them in mid air"
This left the friend confused, so he finally asked the man "had did you manage to кill it then?"
"Well you see" explained the man "after it had caught my knives, it started to beat it's chests shouting AaaaaAAaaaaAAaaAAaaaa!"
(This is a true account of my advice to my pre-teen a few years back. We all know, for the most part that 5th grade boys haven’t started to develop, yet they are still proud of their alleged superiority and having “something” that girls don’t have, and ages ten and eleven are among the ugliest ages for taunting and bullying during “recess” and on the school buses.)
So my ten year old confides in me that a group of boys taunt her every day that she is a “Pirate’s Dream,” with a “sunken chest.” So I asked her: “Who is the ‘ringleader?'”
She told me, and I said, “Tomorrow, look him straight in the eye, and respond, ‘You’re a fine one to talk, centimeter peter.’ ”
Two days later, she said, “I did you one better, daddy, I called him ‘millimeter peter’ and all his friends laughed at him as he slunk away in shame.”
She never had any further trouble and by age 16, she had a more than respectable rack.
During one of her daily classes, a teacher trying to teach good manners, asked her students the following question: ‘
Michael, if you were on a date having dinner with a nice young lady, how would you tell her that you have to go to… the bathroom?’
Michael said: ‘Just a minute I have to go рее.’
The teacher responded by saying: ‘That would be rude and impolite‚. What about you Sherman, how would you say it?’
Sherman said: ‘I am sorry, but I really need to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.
‘ ‘That’s better, but it’s still not very nice to say the word bathroom at the dinner table.
And you, little Johnny, can you use your brain for once and show us your good manners?’
Johnny said: ‘I would say: Darling, may I please be excused for a moment? I have to shake hands with a very dear friend of mine, whom I hope to introduce to you after dinner.’
The teacher was speechless….
It was a hot Saturday evening in the summer of 1961 and Fred had a date with Peggy Sue.
He arrived at her house and rang the веll. ‘Oh, come on in!’ Peggy Sue’s mother said as she welcomed Fred in. ‘Have a seat in the living room. Would you like something to drink? Lemonade? Iced tea?’Iced tea, please,’ Fred said. Mum brought in the iced tea.
‘So, what are you and Peggy planning to do tonight?’ she asked. ‘Oh, probably catch a movie, and then maybe grab a bite to eat at the malt shop, maybe take a walk on the beach..”Peggy likes to sсrеw, you know,’ Mum informed him.
‘Really?’ Fred replied, his eyebrows rising.
‘Oh yes,’ the mother continued, ‘When she goes out with her friends, that’s all they do! Sсrеw, again and again!!’
‘Is that so?’ asked Fred, incredulous.
‘Yes,’ said the mother. ‘As a matter of fact, she’d sсrеw all night if we let her!’
‘Well, thanks for the tip!’ Fred said as he began thinking about alternate plans for the evening.
A moment later, Peggy Sue came down the stairs looking pretty as a picture, wearing a pink blouse and a hooped skirt and with her hair tied back in a bouncy ponytail.
She greeted Fred. ‘Have fun, kids!’ the mother said as they left.
Two hours later, a completely dishevelled Peggy Sue burst into the house and slammed the front door behind her.
“The Twist, Mum!” she angrily yelled to her mother in the kitchen. “The dance is called the Twist!!!”