Subject: Nurse Jones on progesterone
Date: 4 Mar 92 02:04:19 GMT
From Nurse Jones,
Well, it's that time of month again. Believe me, it's NOT that I'm
suffering from a progesterone sufficiency.
No, really.
*I'm* not suffering at all. I regard this as the only time of month I
get to really be myself. And ASB provides me with the perfect release:
another load of accumulated wannafucks from the Thousand Points of
Blight that lurk out there on the Net.
Take heart, though folks. I saved only the most entertaining ones.
Months and months of wannafucks. These gems are just the scum that
floated to the top of my mailbox. Not ALL wannafuckers are as strange
as these people. That would hardly be possible.
And I apologize in advance to averti, Carole and ctan, who seem to
have opinions on whether it is okay to respond publically to an
unsolicited private wannafuck. This is my attitude: (I call it my
attitude because I thought of it and it's mine): there's nothing
private about these wannafucks. If these people respected privacy,
they wouldn't make such intimate suggestions to someone they had never
met.
Of course I would never flame someone who had bothered to earn my
trust first. Or someone who even bothered to be polite. But then,
that's not a wannafuck. It's a pass. I like passes. I'm a girl who
wears glasses. (Well, contacts. So I'm vain.) Anyway, I haven't gotten
a *single* wannafuck from *anyone* that I've ever seen contribute a
post to ASB. Except Harlan the Barbarian.
Okay, I know, it's really not fair for me to take public progesterone-
powered pot shots at these defenseless invertebrates. (Apologies to
the invertebrate paleontologist at the U. of Chicago that took offense
the last time spinelessness was considered to be an insult on this
newsgroup.)
But I'm gonna.
Evolutionary relationships are irrelevant here, anyway. I mean, we
have a christian contingent on ASB that worrys about whether there is
life AFTER death. These creatures challenge my belief in life BEFORE
death.
-*-
To whoever started the thread about Gerbils: I blame you for the first
two wannafucks; YOU should be answering these. This is all YOUR fault.
This stuff belongs on alt.sex.bestiality, anyway. Or maybe on
alt.animal.husbandry.
To Charles: no, I've never tried to catch a hamster covered in K-Y
jelly. I have no useful advice. The poor creature has obviously been
under a lot of strain lately. Offer it cheese or something. Or a warm,
dark, safe place to hide. On second thought, that's probably what
panicked it in the first place.
The MAIN point is, even if you catch it, NO, I don't want to try it.
NO, No, No. Bad Charles. Nonononono. Especially not there.
There are worse things than to enter the world through a vagina. One
of them is to leave it that way.
To "Zorro:" (Really? Zorro?) If you're serious, then I apologize for
my first response, and I'm genuinely sorry about your ferret. It
sounds like it was a lovely funeral, but really: you should know by
now you can't believe everything you read on ASB. Maybe you should
have followed the directions and started with something small like
Charles.
I mean like Charles did. Start with. Charles probably isn't small
enough. Besides, I don't think Charles would, um, nevermind, maybe he
would. But I'm not in the least bit surprised that your cat ran away.
-*-
To Robert: Seriously. Electricity is dangerous. Anyone will tell you.
It won't MATTER to the police *where* she wanted you to put the leads.
Or even *if* she wanted you to. They'll ARREST you. I understand that
it may be difficult for one man to keep her happy, but if she is
*that* hot, and she *really* NEEDS it, (assuming "it" is what I think
it is -- you never know these days...) I'm sure there are other things
you can put there. If you can't think of anything, talk to Charles
(above).
She certainly sounds, er, enthusiastic.
I wonder if they make "Y" shaped coffins.
-*-
To the poet from Texas (I am right in that, aren't I? You *are* from
Texas? Where else would they rhyme penis and anus?)
First of all, Tex, if anyone is going to write epic poetry about my
> Volupterous viberating vermillion vagina,
I want it to be me.
Secondly, it isn't vermillion, although I realize you needed a "v"
word for your, um, illiteration.
I guess I should be grateful you didn't choose veridian.
And thirdly: please, Tex, oh please don't e-mail the manuscript. My
mailbox overflows a _whole_ lot. I know they say that everyone has a
novel in them. In some cases, that's the best place for it.
-*-
To Jesse, who claims to have the world's largest male appendage: size
isn't everything. If you want to impress _me_ you'll have to study the
tantric arts until you are able to vary the *SHAPE* to resemble: a) a
football b) all the major fruits c) AND vegetables d) the state of
Florida
When you have achieved the eightfold path, send a GIF. But not to me.
-*-
To the other Jesse, you know who you are: your e-mails to me are,
individually and collectively, the most disgusting, slimy, sleazy,
offensive e-scum I have ever found stuck to my mailbox. I can't
imagine that you could be so depraved as to think a human being would
be attracted to you. ANY kind of social interaction between us is
COMPLETELY out of the question. You would have to be the Edmund
Hillary of social climbers to reach the level of pond scum. In fact,
forget the social ladder: you would have to begin by climbing the food
chain.
You might at least try *acting* human to see how you like it. Or don't
you do imitations?
Ick. Trust me folks, you don't want to know. However, the
spiritualists among you might be interested: this guy is living proof
of reincarnation. Nobody could be that disgusting in one lifetime.
-*-
To Xxxxxxx (not his real name), the ex-virgin: Congratulations. You
may, however, in later years, come to regret having gotten
professional help for this important transition. It sounds like she
may have been in a hurry to get back to work. Maybe she does a volume
business.
I, however, am NOT interested in an almost-virgin. But I agree, IN THE
ABSTRACT, mind you, that I probably would have been more sensitive,
and maybe more fun than that particular lady of the night.
Or at least slower.
At any rate, had you chosen a more sensitive older woman (I suspect I
am older by your standards) for your first time, you might have
learned that there are a number of seductive phrases that could help
to smooth the rough road through this important male rite of passage.
"In here, stupid," is not one of them.
-*-
To Norman: MOTSS stands for Member Of The Same Sex. Not Species. Sex.
Dear God.
I thought they were kidding about West Virginia.
-*-
To the puppy who's tired of being an unknown failure. I am not
attracted in the LEAST by your first offer, your second offer, or the
third. You should try to get out more, I agree, but you probably
shouldn't begin with a road show, even an educational one about safe
sex. It's just not the kind of idea that will make you famous, even if
you are sure that's what you really want.
Still, it's an idea. Be kind to it. It's a long way from home.
Definitely, the best thing would be to get out more. Frankly, it
sounds like you're too wrapped up in yourself. It also sounds like a
pretty small package. Most people (Madonna excepted) don't make fame-
at-any- cost their major goal in life. Anyway, you're NOT an unknown
failure anymore: 99,000 people are reading this. Now you're a known
failure. Seriously: great men rarely set out to be well known. Fame is
usually the byproduct of an obsession. Come to think of it, you're
half way there, but fer god's sake, just don't do anything to impress
Jody Foster.
On second thought, if you *do* decide to impress Jody Foster, practice
your marksmanship first. I've never forgiven Mr. Hinkley.
-*-
To Bob: Boy, I'm impressed. But making love for a full 24 hours and 15
minutes sounds good only in theory. I think in practice it might not
be so great. Unless this is a trick involving leap year or the
International Date Line. Do you live in the Aleutian Islands, maybe?
-*-
To Douggie: Is that your real name? Douggie? Say hi to Tommy and
Scooter for me. Anyway, if it isn't too late, I would like to decline
the honor of having my name tattooed, um, there. If it IS too late,
then, well, I guess I'm honored. I've seen do-it-yourself tattoos,
Douggie. Indiana is full of them. I hope you are more proficient than
most. You are certainly more athletic than most if you can *see* to
work ...um... there. I'm not even sure I could _reach_ ... there. Even
if it WERE the only place left (is it *really*?).
Talk about self-made men. I think I would have considered
subcontracting, Douggie. Sorry if I keep using your name, but it IS
your name, after all. Douggie.
Try rec.arts.bodyart. That's a real man's newsgroup. Unless there is a
rec.arts-and-crafts.bodyart.
-*-
After my post about Anita, several wannafuckers (wannawatchers?)
wanted to watch me make it with their SO's. One sent measurements
(which I hope to God were metric), to tantalize me:
To Xxxxx from VPI: I'm sure your girlfriend wouldn't appreciate your
sending her (unbelievably spectacular) measurements to me, but once
again, I'm not interested. Although I may be just a leeeetle bit
bisexual, I'm certainly not THAT bisexual. I'm not sure it's
*possible* to be that bisexual. In fact if I were you, I'd have
trouble being that *heterosexual*. She sounds like the Hunchfront of
Notre Dame. I hope the FDA doesn't confiscate them.
Did you bother to ask if *she* was interested in *me*? Don't answer
that, I'm not that curious.
-*-
In fact, ALL of you (above and below): don't even THINK about hitting
the "f" button. Most of your e-mails could -- in fact should -- be
distilled down to limericks, and I would appreciate it in future if
you did that before e-mailing me. In fact, if you would then distill
your limericks down to bumper stickers.
And then stick 'em.
Yes, there.
-*-
To Jerry: GOOD GOD, NO. I realize it probably IS possible to press
yourself against the handles of a roto-tiller in such a way as to
achieve --um-- communion with nature. There has to be a faster way to
fertilize the crops.
But let me be clear about this: I ABSOLUTELY am NOT interested an ANY
variation, position, combination, or relationship that involves a
roto- tiller, and there is NO WAY that sending me your unwashed bib
overalls is going to change my mind. Eeeewwww. If your IQ rises above
30, Jerry, I advise you to sell. BTW, I don't mean to be insulting,
but from your mastery of spelling I thought at first you were Harlan.
A case of mistaken nonentity, I guess.
-*-
To the mutant who wants to:
> plunge my throbbing nob into your hot wet little pussy until you etc
etc.
It's nice to know romance isn't dead.
Carole? ctan? Whoever? Are you SURE these people want/deserve to have
their privacy respected?
-*-
To the guy with the world class tongue: seriously, you should seek
professional help. It sounds like you're kind of obsessive about this.
But it's not like it'll ever be an olympic sport, or anything. Still,
you obviously believe in yourself, and that's something. Some people
will believe anything.
-*-
I expect Harlan is still there, although I am autodumping his mail.
Which is fine, since his mind seems to be set on autowannafuck. So to
Harlan: I haven't looked at your mail in a month. You're not getting
through any more. I hope you're at your wits end. If you're not, it
won't be a long trip, trust me. As you can see above, Harlan, I have a
number of friends like you. The number is zero.
Well, it *is* a number....
These are the Olympic level competitors folks. The _rest_ were boring.
Hmm. Olympic wannafucking.... this has possibilities....
"Well, Jim, I guess we should welcome our viewers to the 1992 Winter
Wannafuck Olympics, and it looks like the competition should be stiff
this year. "
"That's right, Bob."
"Yes, from the stately grace of Squick Dancing to the thrills and
spills of competitive full contact team sports like Field
Wannafucking, we're sure to see some great performances this week."
"That's right, Bob."
"And we'll be seeing some new events this year. The Cross Country
Wannafuck was demonstrated at the '88 games at Sarajevo, and the
Olympic Committee has decided to grant it full Olympic status this
year.
"That's right, Bob."
"While we're waiting for the beginning of the first round of
compulsory routines in the Pairs Wannafuck, lets recap the highlights
of yesterday's events for our viewers.
"Of course, given their overall inexperience, no-one was surprised at
the Israeli Women's team's last-minute withdrawal from the mixed pairs
wannafuck competition."
"But I think we'd all have to agree that the biggest news is the
scandal involving the Russian Downhill Wannafuck team."
"That's right, Bob."
"Not since the entire 1924 Italian men's team was disqualified for
off- court wannafucking has the Olympic world been so shaken by a
scandal."
"That's right, Bob."
"As I understand it, right up until the semifinals, the Russian's best
hope for gold in the Women's Combined Wannafuck was Valentina
Rubzitoff. But yesterday she was disqualified when she failed to
straddle a gate in the Giant Downhill Squick and one of the judges
became suspicious. An investigation revealed she is actually Valentin
Kutzitoff who had competed in the men's division four years before at
the scandal-ridden San Francisco games."
"That's right, Bob."
"Of course, the French wannafuckers have always dominated Olympic
competition, but this year they lost some of their best wannafuckers
when they decided to give up their amateur standing and accept
lucrative endorsement contracts."
"That's right, Bob."
"Yes, that Trojan poster is really a sight to .... wait! I see some
excitement in the stands ... yes ...
"Ah, the German Precision Drill Wannafuck Team is coming onto the
field now, and the crowd is going wild. They are the odds-on favorites
again this year, and I understand they have never failed to take home
gold in this event."
"That's right, Bob."
"The Japanese may present a serious challenge in Precision Drill
Wannafucking, though. They start their competitors at a very young
age, and their coaches push them so hard that many of the younger
Japanese team members are completely fucked up by the time they are
ready for the Olympics. Still, they are very team-oriented, and the
Germans look worried despite their tremendous advantage. Of course,
the Germans are rumored to have their own secret state-sponsored
alpine wannafuck camps where they train their athletes, give them
steroids..."
"That's right, Bob."
"The real surprise came yesterday when an unknown American named
Harlan Josan took bronze in the bantam weight manual wannafuck
(individual programme)."
"That's right, Bob."
"Yes, he seems to have just come out of the woodwork..."
"That's enough, Bob...."
Sorry. Is there any nationality or ethnic group I haven't insulted?
Well, I never *did* like the French.
Sorry. Sometimes I get this way. I guess that's
Nurse Jones
in a nutshell,
the appropriate
receptacle
today.
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