Omgosh...haven't heard that song in a long time! Hope you live somewhere warm

Well, in Oregon, anyone who can pass the
drug tests is in demand :-)

I am already considering a move...

I dont wanna make snowmen, or have snowball battles, im a wuss. I dont see how you can possibly get ALL of the cat hair out of a 3 bedroom house, where a cat has lived for many years, the furniture, dander, ect...A runner for Boogie could work. I dont ride on bike trails alone, because I was attacked on one, luckily I beat his azz! I get caught driving without a license, I go to jail, NO DOUBT! I dont ride buses, there is no exercise in that, I ride my bicycle everywhere I go. All my stuff gets done, AND I get a good workout.Yeah, theres lots of doctors everywhere, thousands, but theres a handful of GOOD ONES.

I would hate to eat a plateful of
drug tests. But anyone who is bent to
pass it must fill himself with it first.

What a state of affairs.

nope took me 14 yrs to get finacially secure enough again after losing the first home been here for 9 yrs think il just stay here for a while an watch it all grow up around me now if i knew that i was going somewhere secluded like out in the woods an didnt have to deal with town yea id have to consider it lol.

Okay, no snowmen... how 'bout making a Michelin man? I AM sorta fat and pudgy.

Getting cat hair out of a three-bedroom abode is easy. You put it in the micro on high for ten minutes. (NOT the cat, you~~~!! The house.)

Pittsburgh is not for bikers... you lose half your bodyweight in energy just by going around the block. It is awfully hilly. Beautiful as all heck, it is green, lush, the downtown looks amazing, but do not try to get around on your bike there, unless your last name is Armstrong. (I still don't know why he hasn't changed his name to Legstrong.)

Yes, bicycle trails are notoriously full of cyclepaths. And I DO NOT WANT TO GO TO WASHINGTON DC every time I get on my darned saddle.

I like the way you beat up the ...rd who attacked you. For one, it is so much in character for you. For two, you do have a track record and rep for doing that to all ugly little evil creatures, it seems... with your doctors' help.

This is the second reason I don't want to bike from Pittsburgh to LA on a bicycle path... I would get beaten to a pulp by about fourteen bikini-clad lone beaties an hour from Chicago all the way to LA. "Get your kicks on Route 66."

My momma was a biker, and she rode and Indian motorcycle, and she was a wonderful lady, and full blooded "Cherokee Indian", with long black hair like Cher, and a killer body. She was great, as long as you didnt "f" with her.

At a VERY young age, she taught me how to fight. I mean really fight, streetfight. She would tell me, "come at me with all ya got Roberta", and I would, and within 15 seconds I was helpless on the ground twisted into a pretzel, and in a headlock from hell.

She said, "your gonna keep doing this, till you get me down, ya got it?", And she was totally serious.

It took years to do it, but I finally did. But I still swear to this day, that she let me.

She was a bad mutha............

She taught me how to shoot pool like a shark too...

guess how?

Running racks on me for years. I would get so mad, and say,"I didnt even get a shot", and she would say, "well if you do, you better run all your balls off the table, or your gonna lose".

She was loving, but tough! I miss the hell out of her.

Good for your Mom!! WE need more women in the world like that.

I am not a fighter, other than with words and with logic. But twice I was taken on by strong, big boys. In highschool.

Roberta, I'm 5'4", and then I was slim, too. The two guys came at me from two sides, they grabbed me, and what I remember was that I twisted my torzo, and stabilized my legs. That's all I remember having done, and the result, which was that the two six feeter boys were on the ground. Unhurt, but obviously demoralized socially, and nobody in that new school for me ever f with me, to use the vernacular.

And when I was in Grade 2 (I am not kidding!!) a big boy came at me, he buckeld down and jumped at me sorta upward, to unbalance me and knock me over. This was grade 2, remember. I sidestepped, had a foot left there, and helped him in his path of motion along with one arm. He tumbled and fell. He came twice more at me like that, and both times the same thing happened. He was one of those eight-year-olds who is full of red meat and testosterone. He never again picked on me after that.

In my street there were no fights, for as long as I lived there. In my schools there were fights, but I was considered a whimp, and therefore not a contestant for alpha position. In my country it was uncool to beat up someone who was much smaller and weaker than you. Strange, I know, but that was the social norm. Very few bullies existed, and the highschool experience with the two tall boys coming at me was already in a different country. In West Germany.

So... two of my best friends beat me up over the ages, for goading them, for gloating after a game of cards, and both times generally for my being an azzole. I was well liked, but I already had the seeds of my arrogance starting their blossoming then.

I have always wanted to have my very own female body guards!! But only good-looking ones. If she is a butch, I can be a real biiiitch. Althoug I have never ever met a dyke who was not nice. I don't know what's with them, but they each were friendly, polite, deferentially treating me, and giving/ providing. Maybe again my "little-boy-ness" was in play each time in my favour.

"she was a wonderful lady, and a full blooded Cherokee"

With all due respect to our North American First Nations, I made this up just now:

"A typical Cherokee is likely to be an Okey-dockey cheery Cherokee." Luv2, you were my muse and role model to poe this line.

(Poe - verb, backformation of "Poet, Poem".)

My mom was 5'1" and a size 1-3, and carried a "Saturday Night Special" in her boot JUST IN CASE, but I saw her take quite a few down, big ones too...come to think of it, never did see my mom get anything more than a scratch or two. She had some martial arts skills too, that got passed on to me.

Im 5'2", and normally a size 3-5.

But like my mom always said, "Dynomite comes in small packages", and if your badazz, being smaller is an advantage for 2 reasons.

1. You cans use their own body weight against them, like when you tripped the fat kid a few times.

2. When your smaller, they dont expect you to be packin a big punch, or know how to go for eyes, and windpipes, so they tend to be easier to hurt, right at the get go, because they dont expect it.

My mom always said, "Your first blow, better be your best blow. Because if they are big and strong and hit you, your going down...so you dont let yourself get it. Shove your fingers into their eyes, if they cant see you, they cant hurt you, and once you DO have them on the ground, stolmp on their windpipe, but only if its a matter of life and death, and then its game over for them. If its not life or death and you have them down, then you aim, shoot, and fire.

Never go for the groin area, unless you have plenty of time to aim, shoot, and fire. So that you definitely hit them square where its gonna hurt, because if you just graze their groin, now they REALLY want to hurt you, knowing what you just TRIED to do to them.

Were you an only child, Roberta? For your mom to be able to shower all this love and attention on you.

I tried to be funny, but I know the feeling... my brother used to tie me into a knot, every day, when I was lucky. It was not punitive or haugty or fighting for alpha position. He was seven years older. He taught me that when I was in a knot, and he was sitting on top of me, and I could not take it any longer, then I just needed to tap him twice, lightly, and he'd immediately let me go.

But he told me years after the fact that he knew better than to continue playing chess with me when I turned eleven and beat our dad in chess. My sister and I played Kanasta almost every day, and she always won, but one day I beat her, and she never once played with me again.

Such is the lot of a youngest child.

I love my family to bits, and they love me deeply too, and the only difference between us, which is a difference, is that I am not materialistic, and I am not jealous of things they have or get from the rich uncle. I get stuff, too, but they both have families, worked hard all their lives, and supported the kids. Because I get much less, bro and sis are jealous of each other, and are bitter actually when they tell each other what they got from the rich relatives. They two inherited all from our parents, I got literally nothing, and I don't miss any of it. But still, it's they who are to this day jealous of me... coz Mom would give me buttered croissants with salami for school lunch, and they got bread with a layer of lard.

That they both to this day could not get over, that was too big for them to swallow.

I was the last of 13 girls. Yeah I said ALL GIRLS! Im the baby.Italian father, what can I say! I have sisters ive never even met. My father left when I was 2 years old, and the sister closest to me left and went straight to college after high school,(she is now a doctor). Im the black sheep, of all them. Im the only one who never went to college, although I did go to Beauty School, to learn to do hair. And I formed my first rock and roll band, when I was 13, called "Praying Mantis", an all girl band, (and you know that "Praying Mantis's' like "Black Widows" eat their mate when the act is over), so we thought it was a cool name. So I spent some years at home with just my mom and me, yeah. Good times, went everywhere, twice. She used to help my band with transportation for gigs, and even booking parties, and such. She was a Kentucky Cherokee Indian biker/rocker. What a combo!

We are totally hijacking this thread, so im gonna start another one for all of this...

Sorry O.P. I JUST realized that!

I just started a job that is paying me well. Three years ago I left a job cause I saw the writing on the wall (they were bought out 4 months later and laid 80% of the workforce off. I would've been in that lay off without a severence package, so I left). Took three years, many interviews, and competing with many others to finally land a job that would pay me a great salary. Now, I have that, so leaving now isn't in the cards for me.

However....three years down the road when my BA is done, that could change. So I won't rule anything out. And now that I am single, I would like to just spend money on me and save for when I do meet a chick who wants to spend it.

Ya, could make a Michelin man or the Sta-Puft Marshmallow man. Or if you want the feeling that it's a little warmer, a scarecrow!

I'll have to work on getting a bigger microwave.......

Hills? In Pittsburgh? NAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH. Don't know why ANYBODY would think that....Unless......they hear places like Scenery Hill, Squirrel Hill, Pleasant Hills, Blaine Hill, Penn Hills, the Hill District, South Hills, Jefferson Hills...... Nope. Not ONE hill here.

:laughing smiley: :rolling laughing smiley:

Haha!

Can you imagine my surprise when I went once to a convention in PB, and took a hotel outside of town, and HAD PACKED MY BICYCLE to use it coz the convention was only about seven miles away from the hotel.

The bicycle stayed in the box that whole time, damit. I took the bus every day!! I was the laughing stock of my friends and fellow conventioneers there.

Awwww, C'mon now. A little exercise is good for ya. You just have to know how to change gears.

Normally. I agree. But was 55 then, 70 lbs overweight, a heart patient, having had coronary artery dilatitative surgery.

I am just saying. I don't think my excuses are good, or adequate, but they are better than nothing. You know, better than leaving your objection unanswered, and just sitting here, stewing in my potty full of shame.

----

Sorry!!! I did not mean to make this sound negative or bitter, much less accusative. It just came out this way. You know, people have moods, and I have them too. About 80 an hour. I apologize. I did not mean to be offensive.

One of my faults is that I rile myself into things, into moods, by my own words. My own words make my moods more accented and to last longer. It makes me into a good writer, but a terrible person for getting along with. I am not self-depracating myself. It's true.

Oh! I get it. You are "ujGearhead". I bet you never give the above advice when you have a beautiful girlfriend to her.

you know how it is when you have a new girlfriend and you want to so badly impress her. It's like not changing gears, ever, on your bicycle, and therefore you wind up either having to pedal very hard, or else spinning out like crazy.

This was metaphorical. I honestly admit, I don't know what the meaning of it is, if somebody nailed me to having to explain the metaphor, but it sure does sound good, don't it.