g56whiz

Or perhaps using a sounding prod on the penis of a guy who’s bound? [shudder]

On Recon there’s a hot local guy who’s “interested in bounding.” I’ve heard of sounding (and I’d explore it a bit if the opportunity arose) but I haven’t heard of bounding. What am I missing?

I gave up carrying cash almost 3 years ago (except for spare change in the car for ancient parking meters). I still use an occasional check for taxes, for tradesmen working in my place and for charities. I use a debit card for everything else.

You ain’t the Lone Ranger @Benjamin_Nicholas. Neo, Drako, Trevor, Tony Mecelli when he was a youngster who took the bus down from Hartford. I can remember when of an evening it was a choice between reruns of Laverne and Shirley or a bit of titillation. Ah the Gaiety of blessed memory.

And sometimes not even that.

My German friends tell me that they began English in a very early grade and that by middle school they had to declare whether their continued English classes would be in British or American English.

In fact I would claim that all food is American unless primarily identified with its originating culture. Spagetti is American: baked ziti not. Most chicken dishes are American except maybe coq au vin. Nachos are American: chorizo tacos less so. Etc.

Tout le monde civilisé parle français! The pool of those francophones trying to speak American English is I suspect quite small.

Make that 3 for 3!

Theodore Geisel (a/k/a Dr Seuss) and I grew up in Springfield MA but his books came out about the time I hit my teens. Because I’ve no kids nor nieces or nephews I’ve not read them. I guess I’ll be ready when senior dementia sets in.

Birds of a feather @whipped guy. Birds of a feather.

This is actually Jake Deckard, walking Viagra of a slightly earlier generation and still walking sex. In between his escorting and porn careers he was a gifted masseur working in NYC and I was his client at least twice. Both were legit (albeit nude) massages during which he worked out knots others couldn’t even find. I’d engage him again in a heartbeat probably more as a masseur rather than as an escort since good masseurs are harder to find. Or maybe we could start as a massage and then . . . (Be still my libido!)

Almost 50 years ago I was in a small singing group that performed on Captain Kangaroo. I was an adult by then who’d never seen the show. We sang canons. The Captain wasn’t there but Mr Greenjeans was. The crew was mucking about with mics etc. until he stepped in and pointed out that they’d known about the segment for weeks and they we’re wasting our time which was volunteered. I remember that each crew member seemed to have his own big BarcaLounger in the small studio which was the set. I also remember that the puppeteer had the foulest tongue I’d ever heard and I’d been in the Army for awhile. Sesame Street was relatively new at the time. I asked one of the producers what they thought of the upstart. He replied “Guess where they all started?”

Lol. Damming with faint praise.

I recently finished a biography of Princess Louise, Victoria and Albert’s daughter who married locally, led a rather bohemian life and lived on into the 1930’s I think. Victoria’s death and the swiftness with which the family dealt with Abdul are briefly covered. They were not compassionate.

I think “saw” is the operative verb here. He claims he doesn’t top or bottom. Why pay more for what you might getbatvan Adonis nude party?

Agreed. But @Kenny has a point I’d like to pursue.

Lol. I didn’t get to choose my male nurse unfortunately. He was sorta hot in a alpha male sorta way: muscular (clearly getting testosterone as an employee benefit) motorcycle pistol permit moll girlfriend etc. But he didn’t practice on or with me He taught and there was so much to learn and absorb especially with respect to administering that there was little sensuality about it. But I keep the fantasies.

Even with my allergies I will defer at all times to a Service Animal. Perhaps it’s a “there but for the grace of God ho I” response. The problem arises from a general public that makes no distinction between a Service Animal and an emotional support animal and accords them the same deference. A half a century ago I took a course in College entitled What is Math. It was taught by professor who was nearly blind. His eyeglasses were like coke bottle bottoms. As he rambled on unintelligibly he would face the class and scribble on the board with his left hand without ever looking at what he wrote which as can imagine was illegible. One of my fellow students was totally blind. He would arrive a moment on two ahead of class and set up his recorder while his guide dog laid down on the floor facing to the rear. Minds wandered often and I’d frequently catch the guide dog staring at me as if about to growl. The topic and guide dog intimidated me. Suffice it to say that the only person to get a passing grade in that course was: you guessed it - the blind guy. I flunked out as a math major a semester later.

The situation actually arose about 10 years ago in NYC when service animals were just beginning to be recognized. Fortunately I was just finishing my meal. I got up and paid my tab at the bar. But years before that I was seated at the front of a flight whose take off was delayed more than an hour. I was busy trying to solve my NYTimes Sunday crossword when I suddenly couldn’t breathe. Just then I heard a passenger 10 or more rows behind me argue with a stewardess who ordered her to put her cat back in its travel container. The exchange went on a bit until I stood up and gasped “Please lady. I can’t breathe!” Later when I went to use the lavatory at the rear of the plane I got the “you should die” stare from this lady. More recently early on a Sunday morning at my local Starbucks which has a nice covered outdoor terrace, two gentlemen of the lighter loafer sort pranced in with their TWO prancing lapdogs on leashes that reached the next zip code. Since I’d not finished my daily oatmeal and coffee I pointed to the sign that set forth the store’s pet policy which permitted service animals. One smugly said “Service dogs”. I said “Bullshit!! and your ‘service dogs’ are endangering my health. Since my rising blood pressure was becoming an even greater danger I got up and left! But I like @tassojunior suggestion. In the future I’ll just ask for a human bag.

I enjoyed it - as one of many movies that got me through a sleepless 17 hour transPacific flight.

OK what should I do? I’m sitting alone in a crowded restaurant in the middle of my meal when the hostess seats at the next table a lady and her service dog. I’m deathly allergic to most dogs and all cats. I’ve had to flee dinner parties when I couldn’t breathe only to learn that my hosts were stashing their new puppy dachshund in the basement. There’s no table for either of us to move to. Should I ask the hostess to make her wait? If that’s not possible should I have to pay for a meal I can’t complete? Should I resign myself to forever dinning on take out or delivery? Is my hereditary disability to be forever trumped by her psychological one? I wonder?

It was about age 10 that I discovered Johnny Tremain by Esther Forbes. But then I graduated to the Kenneth Roberts novels: Rebel in Arms, Lively Lady, Arundel etc. A son of New England through and through.

At 10? Damn you were precocious!!

Always 2 after a period and 3 twix a state abbreviation and the zip code. As a clerk in the Army a practiced the P P C method of typing: pick, punch and curse.