From: [email protected]
Subject: Nurse Jones' Group Flammage
Date: 27 Nov 91 12:38:26 GMT
From Nurse Jones,
It takes all types to make a bulletin board, I guess. We're well
beyond wannabes and wannafucks here. ASB is fertile ground for any
perversion at all, I realize, but I just got an e-note from the
ultimate weird person. People have sent me catalogues of things they
have inserted in places that they aren't supposed to even have places.
People have offered to let me do things to them that would have made
Dr. Mengele blush. And they have suggested I should let them do things
to me that would make all of you blush. Even, um, well, I don't think
I'll tell you who I think would be the least likely to blush of the
ASB crowd. It'd be a close call, and I might offend someone. Someone
who thinks they would be even LESS likely to blush. But this note I
got is weird.
I think I'll answer it. He seems sincere. I like him.
He wants to drink my waterbed.
He read that I had a water collection, and I mentioned that I had
saved some water from our first waterbed. This is someone that should
not be disappointed, but I'm afraid that if I tell him we don't HAVE a
waterbed anymore, he'll want to eat our futon. I will handle this one
gently, people. Gingerly, even. He's harmless. Sweet, really.
BUT THE REST OF YOU WANNAFUCKERS!
(Sorry, period's due. You know how I get. Well, Ritchid knows. ASB
regulars can hit the "N" key. From here on, it's Nurse Jones clearing
her mailbox, her angst, the deck, and her sinuses. Avast me hearties!)
To the wannafucks, en masse:
You're obviously tense. It's hormonal. Relax, take a deep breath, just
go with the flow. Be yourself. No, cancel that last. Bad advice.
Now, one at a time, candidates selected for their theraputic value to
moi:
To the amateur gynecologist who wishes he were my exercycle seat, you
know who you are, forget it. I do not exchange bodily fluids with
strangers, even by mail.
To Big John, first of all, I don't CARE how big it is. Second, if you
can really do that with your tongue, you should keep it to yourself. I
know you're going to be surprised to learn this, but honest-to-god:
most women are not turned on by animal noises and seductive tongue
gestures.
To Harry from Calgary, Big John's is bigger, and see above.
To Roderick: Okay, I'm convinced. You know everything there is to know
about male genetalia and how to use them. It. Whatever. In fact, I
expect you have a remarkable grasp of the subject.
But I must decline. Fuckyou very much, though, for the offer. You
overflowed my mailbox again.
To Junior from Just Outside Nashville: the Volvo is not part of a
woman's anatomy.
To Gunnar from Sweden: No not you, other Gunnar. I'm glad you wrote,
really. And yes, I expect Sweden IS very different from Indiana. And
if you would explain to Junior about Volvos I would be grateful, but
not that grateful.
To Buddy: tell your brother I won't even visit (let alone marry)
anyone if the directions to their house include "turn off the paved
road" and "look for two Chevys up on blocks." It's not that I'm a
snob, you understand, and I like dogs, really, it's just that I'm
already married. But I AM a bit curious as to how someone with your
spelling talent would happen to be on the Net.
To Marie and Jon: NO.
To both Jameses: NO. But it's a good idea. Keep up the good work.
To Walt: NO. Besides, I have an uncle that was arrested for that.
To Van from Lake City: if I thought that were possible I would have
tried it with Jay. Let me know when the cast comes off.
To Will: No, I do not want you to give me 9 inches and make it hurt.
You'd probably have to screw me three times and slap me.
Where do they come from.
Wayne, Dwayne, and Shane, you have GOT to be kidding. Brothers? Did
your parents lose a bet or something? I hope to God you don't have any
sisters. If so, tell Jayne she has my sympathy.
And no, Wendell, I do not want a "little bit on the side." I don't
care how little, I'd still notice.
A little on the side. Sheesh. Besides, I'm a married woman. I've been
out of circulation. I didn't even know they'd moved it to the side.
And of course, there's Rich Nain. Quit smoking yet, Rich?
PING! NEXT? No more? Well, next time, just don't get me started. You
know how I get. Last month I broke a fingernail on the exclamation
point.
If you're a regular and still reading, I apologize, but I feel much
better now. My body is a thing of beauty and a toy forever, except for
once a month when Jay says I should be chained to a ring set in the
floor and fed from a safe distance. Come to think of it, I have been.
Nurse Jones,
who will now explain why it takes 100 women
with PMS
to screw in a lightbulb:
JUST BECAUSE, DAMMIT!
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