RE: push your bike, risk a beating

From: Spike (spike66@comcast.net)
Date: Sat Jul 05 2003 - 20:46:02 MDT

  • Next message: Karen Rand Smigrodzki: "Re: push your bike, risk a beating"

    From: Karen Rand Smigrodzki
    ... I was also thinking that the effect of riding a motorcycle might
    make your hormonal levels change...(It makes me wonder if the guys in
    the late 1800's had the same effect riding in their horseless
    carriages.)...

    Karen, here is an insight from my own misspent youth.
    Knowing that motorcycles caused my own raging hormones
    to rise to even more mind-numbing heights, I sought to
    discover what activity would have a similar effect on
    women, in order to be present when those activities
    were taking place. I asked my friend, who was well known
    to understand the mysteries of the female of the species.
    He advised I attend horse related events, and observe
    closely the powerful effect these strong and gentle beasts
    had on women.

    I did so, observing carefully the horses and the
    way they managed to capture the hearts of their
    riders. I got a date with a girl I knew to be a
    horse lover. Foregoing the usual (and proven
    unreliable) technique of actual conversation, I
    substituted neighing and whinneying, with the
    occasional B-B-B-B-B-B-B flappy lips thing that
    horses often do for no apparent reason. My date
    excused herself to the powder room, and never
    returned. I learned she had changed her phone
    number and moved away leaving no forwarding address.
    Note to self: No horse lips.

    Reported back to my friend who conceded that my
    technique would only have worked had I shared
    certain physical characteristics with horses.
    Of course *any* technique would have worked, had
    that been the case, which I assured him it was not.
    He suggested that perhaps I was emulating the wrong
    beast, that in fact the aarvark was the lifeform
    of choice. "You wait for just the right moment,"
    says he, "Then you go down on the old anthill.
    Works like magic."

    So I got a new date. The conversation was on the
    topic of the life cycle and habits of the aardvark.
    Things started going well. Verrrry well, if you
    catch my drift. (Wink) So, just at the critical
    moment, I went down, poked my snoot in the anthill.
    The ensuing commotion ensured me it was having the
    desired effect.

    I was mistaken, however, for upon looking up I
    found that again my date had fled. The commotion
    was half a dozen passers-by, pointing and inquiring
    as to the exact nature of my major malfunction. My
    date requested a court order to keep me at bay,
    and just for good measure had entered the Federal
    witness protection program. Just as well, for it
    took several days for the swelling to subside on my
    nose from all the bites from the angry ants, who
    had lived many generations without having been
    attacked by an aardvark. Note to self: no aarvarks.

    I began to doubt the advise of my friend, and
    decided to emulate a different creature on my
    next date: an amoeba, with money. That worked.
    She married me.

    spike



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