9622.net

here's the Pretenders with a little motivational music for everyone. (mp3, 3.7M)

I current do data entry at a music database company. Before that I sold PC's at the ranch, worked a bookseller, a newstand clerk, did tech support, a baker, a factory worker and a variety of temp jobs including an evening spent in Little Havana counting thong underwear.

Dream Job: free-form radio DJ, columnist, porn star.

I provide office solutions.

Before that: selling fucked up pink PCs at The Ranch [thank god those things aren't in the stores before my last day tomorrow], and before that, I was an associate research editor, a plain old editor, and other assorted stuff through college.

Pink?? Are you fucking kidding me??

Looks like a gigantic compact..

I work in the Office of Government Slack™. I do grunt work for local county government analyzing budgets for Civil Courts and a slew of other departments. It ain't great, but it's a living, at least until grad school. Ideally, I'd like to teach university, most likely latin-american studies. Don't ask me why, it just seems like a good idea.

In the past I've worked in the Econ office at my school, punched cash registers at a craft store and a sporting goods store, sold diet pills at a mall kiosk, and made pizza. Pizza was the best, by far.

Oh, and for those that aren't aware, I do work in the building that Kennedy was shot from, alas, not on the sixth floor.

I am currently working full time as a pr person for a homebuilder, and part time as a restaurant reviewer for the local weekly "alternative" paper.

I'd druther be a taste-tester for this local industry, in my dreams....

I "work" in advertising. Why the quotes around "work"? Ask anyone who comes into #mefi and they'll tell you...I'm always there. Even from the office. Watching. Waiting. Stone cold chilling.

First job: waitress at a retirement home. Vowed I would never waitress again. Proud to say I've kept that vow. I've been a drugstore cashier, a receptionist, a manager at a music store, an acting TA, a props master, a phone sex operator and a dominatrix. Okay, not those last two. But I've been tempted to do them just for all the stories I'd get to tell.

I'm currently an out of work actor (yes, I have had some paid gigs in the past and no, you wouldn't recognize me from anything because I do stage work) and I'm paying the rent by working at A&E and The Hitler Channel doing nothing exciting. Thank god for grad school this fall.

Being an actor would be pretty cool. I am hamstrung, however, by a total lack of thespianic talent.

Not as many know this, but I was also the fourth "Tony." As in TONY! TONI! TONE! TONIE! I was TONIE!

Creative differences, you know the drill.

Hi. I'm, uh, I'm a pet psychiatrist. I sell couch insurance. Mm-hmm, and I -- and I test-market positive thinking. I lead a weekend men's group, we specialize in ritual killings. . .I work at Kentucky Fried Chicken. I sell biscuits and gravy all over the Southlands.

Actually, no. I'm an Editor/Producer at a certain cable news network's New York bureau. I'm essentially a video editor for our shows that originate in New York, as well as for general New York-area coverage. Before that, I worked in the Atlanta HQ doing essentially the same thing.

I've also worked at a couple of TV stations doing everything from lighting to studio camera to floor directing to tuning in satellites. Plus there was all the temping and internships during college, during which I got really good at unjamming copiers. I also spent ten months selling hotel rooms -- dial 1-800-HOLIDAY east of the Mississippi, and you got me. (That particular experience was what made me decide that everyone should spend at least six months working retail.)

If I could do anything? Something involving lots of travel, perhaps. If I won the lottery, I'd probably travel constantly or try to be a freelance travel writer. Being a TV news shooter would be cool, too, if I could be based somewhere interesting. (I haven't gotten to go out too much, but my field assignments (in Florida, DC, and LA) have been my favorite projects so far...it's so great when there's a big news story that the world is watching, and you get paid to go stand in the middle of it.)

I was once the ruler of Bolivia, but made more money as a bartender, so returned to that. Barrista, bartender, waitron, and then, rather unpredictably, video editor and graphics hack.

Then I retired. Am still deciding what the next incarnation is. Perhaps it will be something philanthropic and beneficent, and make absolutely no money (since the moneyed side of what I used to do made me insane and hateful...)

Posted by: readymade on June 2, 2003 01:25 PM

I currently work as an IT focal point (whatever that means) for the international exploration division of a big, evil oil company that rhymes with "Smell." I also bartend part-time. My first job was as a Sandwhich Arteest for Subway. During college I sold out to The Man for a private room and worked as an RA and later as an assistant dorm supervisor. I've also done customer service for a cell phone company and desktop support for a company that made construction estimating software that was owned by one of Satan's more trusted minions. For a few years I also delievered newspapers in the wee hours of the morn'.

If the Peter Gibbons route was not available to me, I'd probably want to get my hands on one of these and sell fish tacos to tourists on a beach somewhere.

since the moneyed side of what I used to do made me insane and hateful

and believe me, i saw glimpses of that last friday.

I won't bore you with the details of my current occupation.

But I always wanted to be a pornographer.

Cyrano, before you start your fish taco venture, I highly recommend reading The Van by Roddy Doyle (which was also made into a movie, although I never saw it). You know, good depressing Irish fun.

I saw the movie. Neili Conroy, who plays the main characters daughter is unbearably pretty.

Witchy--really? Was I being insane and hateful? I thought I was being delightful and ladylike!

Heh. Probably not. Ah well. Illusions dashed so quickly, so quickly...

Posted by: readymade on June 2, 2003 01:46 PM

Thanks, Witchy, I'll give it a look.

Although it's more likely I'll turn to a life of crime before I ever make taco #1. I'm infamous for my drunken kidnapping plots.

jonmc, just wondering: is it possible for you to mention a woman without rating her looks?

Actually, Cyrano, I wasn't that big of a fan of the book. Apparently, some of his other books are better, though.

Very much so. I just happen to like pretty women is all, and If I notice I'll mention it. Didn't know appreciating beauty was a bad thing.

I think she was trying to say that you were insane and hateful in a delightful, charming, ladylike kind of way. It's all good. ;-)

oh yeah, and Cyrano reminded me that I was an RA for three years in college too. Interesting job, that -- could've done without the scary things (suicide attempts, alcohol poisonings, and the like) though.

Or the vomit. There was always vomit somewhere.

witchstone said: "jonmc, just wondering: is it possible for you to mention a woman without rating her looks?"

jonmc said: "Very much so. I just happen to like pretty women is all, and If I notice I'll mention it. Didn't know appreciating beauty was a bad thing."

What jonmc should have said was: No, I can't, witchstone, you unbearably gorgeous woman.

See, the chicks dig the guys with the smooth lines.

Yah, got sick of the vomit. Especially when they'd vomit in the shower or someplace like that and not clean it up, so it sat till Monday. I usually instituted a firm "you puke, you clean" policy at the beginning of the year and people mostly stuck to that. I mainly hated the paperwork and would do anything to avoid writing people up. Vandalism generated the most paperwork though -- disciplinary and dorm damage and more.

Yes, but I am not smooth, I'm positively lumpy.

Ew.

Posted by: readymade on June 2, 2003 02:50 PM

Was that "ew" for the puking or the lumps?

I guess it's better than being negatively lumpy.

And if I've learned one thing from working in a law office (and it might be just the one thing), it's to stay positively lumpy.

That "Ew" was brought to you today by Vidiot and his Dorm Room Tales, not Mr. Mc. Although "positively lumpy" is pretty "ew" too.

Posted by: readymade on June 2, 2003 02:59 PM

I work in the youth/student/independent traveller accommodations sector of tourism. I currently am the resident webgeek and do some PR-type stuff for the occasional conference. I've worked reception in the past as well as 'managing' (where I learned my web/computer geekery throught the attached Internet Cafe where the computers were constantly breaking down do to crappy installation/age).

Back in the States, I was a professional ballet/modern dancer in a small regional company, a ballet/jazz/modern teacher, and a waitress (to pay the bills). One gig saw our small troop building the sprung floor and stringing the cans a week before the show, so I can add "handy with a hammer" to my resumè.

What holiday has passed? (Ours is today, though I didn't take the day off.)

I collect orphans and stray pets for local sausage plant.

"Positively Lumpy" would be a great title for someone's memoirs. Kind of like "Positively 4th Street" but less bohemian. (And with more pocky.)

I also head the local chapter of Let's Stop Using Word "The".

I betcha dong_resin is actually a florist.

Kimmy, most US workers had Memorial Day off last Monday.

But dong, you just used word "---" twice!

"Positively Lumpy" sounds like a walk-in biopsy clinic such as you might find in a mall in Paramus.
"First I'm getting your father a two-can beer helmet at Spencer gifts, then I'm getting this breast checked out."

But dong, you just used word "---" twice!

I didn't say I was good at it.

I used to answer a 1-800 line for people who had strange experiences with/found strange objects in their pet food. I had some "ew" moments. One of the most memorable was a guy who had a spoiled can of dog food explode in his trailer home. Another was a guy who sliced his palm while opening an "easy-open" can of cat food, and had to go to work with a "big ol' maxi-pad taped to it."

Had a guy who found a bullet in a can of Beef and Liver Chunks that was manufactured on the first day of deer-huntin' season. Not a used bullet, a fresh one.

I sent 'em all coupons for more of the offending products, and they were happy.

Ah, thanks Vidiot. I tend to forget that sort of stuff with all of the various holidays here. Crap. When's Father's Day?

June 15.

Vidiot, did you have problem with people opening amatuer barber shops in the bathrooms? I swear, sometimes I would walk in there and it would look like Chewbacca exploded.

I am the former leader of another planet living here in exile, taking control of your country through the use of Franchise family eateries.

I used to answer a 1-800 line for people who had strange experiences with/found strange objects in their pet food.

This is an actual job?

*flummoxes*

...and elaborate frozen girlie drinks.

I thought it was WalMart that was taking over. Or are they the tool of a rival alien race?

Posted by: readymade on June 2, 2003 03:24 PM

This is an actual job?

I'll tell you what, the whole time I had that job I never lacked funny stories to tell at parties.

i'm a marketing associate. i don't know what that means. but i can get you free showerheads and other cool things if you get lots of traffic on your site and you will write about them. in theory. hasn't ever worked. spent about 7 years as a web designer and general video graphics guy, have shot video, edited a little, stood for hours on end holding a boom-mike [boom yoga i call it]. really just want to be a wacky inventor or run a really excellent eating establishment....or become a professor and teach classes in logic and philosophy so i can demolish the faith of naive college students. that would be the most fun.

recently though i had this dream where i was sculpting using two ice-axes, it wasn't ice but a plastic resin that had a similar consistancy until it was cured....anyways...i would sculpt by fiercely attacking the block of plastic...axes swinging madly. it was beautiful. that is what i really want to do.

We had to code every complaint with a classification, like "Foreign" for foreign object, "Noveg" for no peas & carrots in the 'stew' varieties, "Infest" if there were bugs in the dog biscuits, or "Slackmeat" when there wasn't quite enough meat in the can.

I have since rated several men of my acquaintance "slackmeat" - none of you monkeys, of course.

Vidiot, did you have problem with people opening amatuer barber shops in the bathrooms?

Yeah, that was an utter pain in the ass. The biggest problem with the RA job in general was just to get people to take responsibility and clean up their own damn messes and not bug other people.

I'd rather fall under "slackmeat" than "infest".

i had this dream where i was sculpting using two ice-axes, it wasn't ice but a plastic resin that had a similar consistancy until it was cured....anyways...i would sculpt by fiercely attacking the block of plastic...axes swinging madly. it was beautiful. that is what i really want to do.

i believe this is commonly referred to as the edward scissorhands fantasy.

1993: Finished grad school. Started my career as a journalist, as a minor editor at a minor monthly music magazine.

1994: Quit my career as a journalist to move down to Cape Cod, to live with my then-girlfriend. I worked as a projectionist in an artsy little movie theater. Remains the best job I've ever had. If it had paid enough to make a decent living, I'd still be doing it today.

1996: Was laid off when the movie theater went under (foreign films just can't compete with Hollywood in such a small market). Moved up near Boston with said girlfriend. Worked in the back office of a furniture company, while my parents wept at the money they had wasted sending me to grad school. Taught myself web design.

1999: Did some web design on the side, while I worked as sole hardware/software/webmaster/computer-mover for an educational collaborative north of boston. We basically taught the kids that the public schools couldn't handle--mostly kids with severe mental, physical, emotional or behavioral issues. Good job, the kids were great, but couldn't even afford an apartment on the salary. When I split with my gf, I ended up living in my parents basement.

2000: Started my present job as intranet webmaster for a high-tech company north of Boston. We make "signal imaging" hardware and software--basically computers that go inside things like MRI machines and (I'm embarrassed to admit) F-14s. Part of the reason I did the peaceblogs project was as a sort of pennance for working for a company that sells its products to the military.

I'm currently looking for gigs on the side. I'd like to start a side project that would actually generate some income. Anyone got any ideas?

Are we still talking about our dream jobs?

Right now I'm an editor/writer. It's not as rewarding as I thought it'd be.

I was a retail slut for many, many years, going far enough up the corporate ladder to actually boss around an entire staff of 16-y-os. "Refold those chinos! That's not up to standard!"

I have done other things for money that I will not disclose on the intarweb. They're less shameful than working retail, IMO, but apparently not as legal.

What would my dream job be? Well, if "sitting around and doing nothing at all" isn't an option, I'd have to say being a full-fledged Writer would be great. Or a pornographer. Maybe crash and I can start a joint venture.

Lots of monkeys want to get into porn and jpoulos is looking for a side project. Hmmm...

You'll need a lube tech/jizz-mopper!

*begins filling bucket*

I teach software classes. I spent last week teaching Microsoft Access to old ladies. The week before, SQL server to jaded, and very tired, admins.

My dream job would involve a lot of sleeping and playing video games (and possibly drinking beer).

I currently work a reasearch assistant/reporter in the New York bureau of the largest newspaper in Japan -- and the world. Though I was told I'd get the chance to write for their English-language paper, some six months have passed and I've yet to pen a graf. I have, however, learned to do lots of neat neat journalistic stuff, and have taken some nice trips while backing my assigned correspondant up.

If I could do anything, I would be doing exactly what I'm doing now, except writing for some ubiquitous business news publication. Or something like that.

On a totally unrelated note, I just adopted kittens!

I once watched news footage of a bucha schoolkids who had been sent to the local zoo to wash the turtles. The turtles looked happy, the kids looked happy, playing with the hoses and sponges. I got a little misty watching. Maybe I should open a turtle wash.

Actually, very early in my blogging carreer, I floated an idea for a novel about finding occupational salvation in the most unlikely of places, if, of course you believe in the redemptive power of going insane.

kitties! they look siamese, if you please.

I took a baseball style cap yesterday and made it into a sun-visor. So give me a beach; sun; kind waves as in some: I'm bound to find my pay.
I would love to write a book just for name sake alone, been published, would love to be Dear: Anne Landers/Abby but don't want to be one to remind folks to wipe their asses when they finisheses. Basically I can't think for folks, so why write for them, still trying to find the simplicity in it.

would love to be Dear: Anne Landers/Abby but don't want to be one to remind folks to wipe their asses when they finisheses

9622.net: remind folks to wipe their asses when they finisheses

basically computers that go inside things like MRI machines and (I'm embarrassed to admit) F-14s.
Made an engine replacement part for those birds, 16 at the time, my pay was a buck O quarter. Now who should be embarrassed since I was an apprentice’s apprentice with little to none previous experience. Did we lose any due to engine failure in the last 18 years?

I was a retail slut for many, many years

I get mine at wholesale.

*rimshot*

I get mine at wholesale.

"Intraweb admin" indeed. Why didn't you just say so in the first place?

There's no shame in bein' a pimp.

I get mine at wholesale.

"Intraweb admin" indeed. Why didn't you just say so in the first place?

There's no shame in bein' a pimp.

Pimp, dammit!

9622: Pimp, dammit!

9622.net: I'd rather fall under "slackmeat" than "infest".

Posted by: readymade on June 2, 2003 07:38 PM

Wow - what a great thread, Fes - thanks!

My own work history is too complicated to list. You name it, I've done it. I've always wanted to be a writer so I tried to pack in as much experience as I could.

Technically, I'm a writer and a political philosopher - a researcher in the Institute of Social Sciences, of the University of Lisbon, since 1982.

Professionally, all my money is made by writing - I left the University when I figured I could make it on my own BS.

I've painted lavatories, served in a pub, made numerous radio programmes, written plays, stood as a political candidate twice (with around 180,000 votes), founded and edited a newspaper, been a columnist for 25 years, music critic, playwright, screenwriter, Visiting Fellow in Oxford, philosophy tutor, record company owner, lyricist, advertising copywriter, film critic, publishing consultant, telecommunications guru...

A lot of things. But mainly what I do is write novels, essays and newspaper columns.

I consider it all writing.

That's the attitude, when you come down to it. Write about what you know and make an effort to know as much as you can. That's my old fart's, veteran's advice.

Anything in the world is interesting. Nothing is less fun or instructive than anything else if you have the right attitude.

That said, I used to be rich and now I'm poor. I never know what I'll earn next month - it depends on how many loyal readers buy my books.

I should add that I'm very happy - this is what I've always wanted to do. I speak to no one; have to turn up to nothing, do exactly as I please.

Come to think of it, it's good. Damn!

Currently working at a design studio, doing web production work. (Why yes, I'd love to rearrange the order of everything in the navigation on your site. Again. Today.) (Ok, actually, I like my job.)

Used to: bartend, work in newspapers (doing everything from keeping the books to paste-up to editing and art direction to marketing -- everything but sell the ads) and work as a receptionist (a good choice for people who, like me, have a little dyslexia problem when it comes to numbers).

If I could do anything, I'd get a job where I could either (a) play with toys all day (a la the movie Big) or (b) utterly destroy things to see how much abuse they'll take.

Oh, sure, I can do (b) with my clients' sites, but they tend to get all upset about it.

my dream job is to peddle ass.

and make bicycle deliveries.

Ryan! Those kittens are beautiful. And I agree with whatnot - siamese.

Another employment factoid - I have had 4 jobs on 4th street in Cincinnati. Waitress, shop girl at a carriage trade store whose owner eventually robbed a bank, symphony ticket office and American Airlines reservation office, 4 pm to 1 am shift for one year.

We had a guy who called every night and said "I'm Peter Pan, the panty man, and you're sitting on a gold mine!"

Another employment factoid - I have had 4 jobs on 4th street in Cincinnati. Waitress, shop girl at a carriage trade store whose owner eventually robbed a bank, symphony ticket office and American Airlines reservation office, 4 pm to 1 am shift for one year.

We had a guy who called every night and said "I'm Peter Pan, the panty man, and you're sitting on a gold mine!"

Oh my God, that wasn't me, was it? That used to be my never-foiled, never-failed pick-up line.

Sometimes I'm also known as the Double-Post Guy.

Sometimes I'm also known as the Double Post Guy.

Oh yes.

my dream job is to peddle ass.
and make bicycle deliveries.

Of ass? Do the customers get to keep the seats?

"I'm Peter Pan, the panty man, and you're sitting on a gold mine!"

How did that not make it in the "weirdest things people have said to you" thread?

I do print production (responsible for Annual Report, national magazine, brochures, etc.) and act as ad hoc art director for a non-profit healthcare organization. The other hat that I wear is running our Web site -- we don't have a publishing system at the moment, so *I'm* the publishing system. I'm the coding chick, the graphics chick, the QA chick, and the "can you make it do *this?*" chick. We're currently in the midst of a site redesign, and I'm currently in the eleventh circle of Hell.

I also do print production, but I freelance in agencies. No one in their right mind would let me near their website.

I've never had any weird jobs. I've worked as an activity aide in a group home for alzheimer's patients (main job, helping them find the rec room every day), done waitressing and retail, somehow ended up in a publishing house then onto the ad agencies.

"Dream job" is an oxymoron to me. If it's a job, it's not in my dreams. That "work to live" ethic just comes out in me every time.

*seethes with jealousy for Miguel*

*seethes with jealousy for the Panty Man*

*remembers that it's the black fire inside that keeps me warm and alert*

*hands Fes seething ring*

There, there...

I used to be a professional trainspotter for Stockholms Lokaltrafik. I had different kinds of gigs during the working week, one day I could be assigned to stand on subway stations and take notes on when the trains arrived, left and how many people was in each car. Other days I rode buses here and there while writing down various facts. Sometimes I had to stand on the same spot for hours counting the number of people who passed through a door.

That was fun! Almost as fun as beeing a human scarecrow for a hostel here in Stockholm. My job was to stand under a streetlight in a parking lot between 00.00 and 06.00 AM and make sure nobody tried to steal any cars. The management told me that just me being there would suffice, and sure enough, no cars got stolen the whole summer I »worked« there.

I've also been a dish washer, I've done market research over the phone, I've been a janitor, I've worked at a graphic departement, I've sold clothes, I've been a cleaner, I've counted cans of various fluids (as god is my witness, as long as I can count I shall never be hungry again) and now I'm a music journalist.

Good times.

Awful damn quiet around here today.
*crickets*

We've shared a lot here. Occupations. Hometowns. Favorites in food, music, booze.

What's next? Loss of virginity stories? Kinkiest sex experiences?

a man can dream...

Should refresh before I post...
Hi there, SOS!

Yay! soundsofsuburbia and fishfucker re-emerge in the same thread! All the lurkers in the house say HO!

::takes off rubber glove, kisses it, sets it on top one of the beer bottles going by on the conveyor belt, sighs::

If this place dosen't get more active soon, I'm gonna start talking about my lunch, dammit.

And nobody wants that. think Of The children.

Hello all! I'm sorry for all my spelling and grammatical errors, but I'm somewhat tired and emotional right now.

*gonna make it after all*

What's next? Loss of virginity stories? Kinkiest sex experiences?

I'm game.

Loss of virginity: age 18, July 31, 2004 on the shag carpet in the living room.
Reason why I remember the date: It was my mom's birthday. (She was out of town).

You lost your virginity in the future? That's impressive.

Shit. That's what happens when I get 4 hours of sleep- numeric dyslexia.

1994

Damn, I was hoping to score front-row seats.

I already told my defloration story here. It was only my defloration. I have yet to deflower someone. I could discover a new planet and I don't think it'd fill the void.

I already told my defloration story here. It was only my defloration. I have yet to deflower someone. I could discover a new planet and I don't think it'd fill the void.

One After 909. Post

Don't feel too bad ufez. Considering my track record lately, you might be able to score tickets for when I lose my Secondary Virginity. :-P

Virginity, eh? 16, party at my house, in my bed, May 1983. Her name was Dawn, she was a redhead. My own performance was... adequate, at best. All those years of practice, and all for naught :D

One of my buddys' girlfriend's snitched on me, so my girlfriend found out about it not long after. She couldn't wait to break up with me.

Such is life.

I'd rather talk about my lunch than my defloration, and my lunch was pretty bad. I could use a Tums.

As for sex on shag carpet - three words: spinal rug burn. I'm a survivor, and I've got scars to prove it.

Here's hoping it's to a certain French Footballer with some male-pattern baldness, kimmy.

You were one of the lucky few who managed to graduate having dipped yer whip, huh, fes? Lucky bastard.

I remember sitting at graduation in my cap and gown, thinking that despite all the hype from Risky Business/Porky's type movies, either high school was a major disappointment or I was a hopeless dork.

Both were true but that's beside the point. But by college, I remember that there seemed to be no female virgins, but plenty of us dorky male cherries. Only now we had the advantage of them ahving not known us in 3rd grade when we picked our nose and and said everything twice.

two more words, tiz: on top.

And don't I frickin' wish, Ufez. Talk about yer Pay-Per-View events.

My lunch was a chicken taco salad that was only marginally better than the first time I had sex. At least "Dark Side of the Moon" wasn't playing while I ate it.

Actually for lunch today, I had both "freakin' nuts" and a Nerds Rope, so it may have technically been a form of sex.

*lights cigarrette*

Lunch was a bag of Munchos and coffee. Losing my virginity was better (for me, anyway).

Three slices of pizza. Yesterday was a bucket of fried chicken I shared with some coworkers.

This must stop.

The year: 1995. I was 17, she was a modest 15-and-a-half. Some kind of cotillion after-hangout with another couple in her half-finished basement. We put on 'Say Anything' but watched not a lick. Her best friend, whose name I forget, watched us do it while screwing around with his girlfriend. He had forgotten condoms, and was 'jealous' because he didn't go all the way. Or so he told me after.

Her name was Kate.

A salad consisting of crutons, olives, eggs and lettuce. Although the blue cheese dressing did remind me of...

*listens to the little, pleading voice inside his head*

Nevermind.

Oh, and tuna fish.

No, I meant for lunch.

At every large workplace there will a quiet polite person who sits and reads a bible during lunch. If there isn't it is your duty to bring your bible to work and be him.

Also, I need a beer badly. I found a place on 2nd that sells PBR tallboys for a buck. I should be able to get enough to get me home and some peanuts for a fin.

I just left The Ranch on my last day about 2.5 hours early, without telling anyone. Hope they don't mind. That's in the employment agreement, that you can do that, isn't it?

Yes. You're also allowed to steal pens and light small fires.

Adam tell, the ranch and all the ranch hands, to kiss your rosy tattooed ass. Just last week me and Pips were doing some cleaning when I told her throw out all my "cow shirts" but one. I figure that when the company finally goes Kevorkian in a year or two, it'll be a collectors item.

You only were there about 9 months adam. I spent 4 years on and off with. Their tailspin was what finally got me outta retail. 5 years in the book business without making management probably shoulda done it but it didn't.

I ate at Subway for lunch. I take mine on wheat, no cheese, turkey, lettuce, tomato, pickles, and ranch. And lots of black pepper.

However, I've never had the pleasure of copulating in (or, for that matter, on) a Subway.

Remember my comment about being a "sandwhich arteest" ufez?

Heh.

(And when we weren't doing that we made up games like Meatball Golf, Lettuce Baseball, and That Snot-Nosed Punk Didn't See Me Drop His Sandwhich On The Floor So I'm Just Going To Give It To Him.)

This one time, at band camp

At least "Dark Side of the Moon" wasn't playing while I ate it.

The salad, I hope, for some unknown guy's sake.

I was 15. She was 18 and had a 22 year old boyfriend. (I think I've told this story here before.) Anyway, he knew we were "friends" and I think he knew what was going on. Since I couldn't yet drive, she once had him drive me home. I swear he didn't stop the car in front of my house, only slowed down. Either that or I was so scared I jumped out before he could stop.

So far, I was the youngest to lose it. Can anyone beat 15 years 5 months?

Wow, so far I'm was oldest. 18 years 10 months. I am a dork. And if that girl hadn't of flat out told me to "go ahead," I never woulda had the nerve to ask, and would probably still be cherry to this day. So thank her for that the little pyscho.

So far, I was the youngest to lose it. Can anyone beat 15 years 5 months?

I was 15 years 6 months. But he was 23. Can anyone beat *that* skeez factor?

"So far, I was the youngest to lose it. Can anyone beat 15 years 5 months?"

Yes, by about two years.

I'm a slut, OK?

No worries, jonmc - you've only got me beat by 2 months.

Ufez was my hero. Crash is my hero.

Hey Crash, they mean sex with another person, dude.

You mom saying "We're having liver for dinner!" and you replying "I already had it!" doesn't count.

*coughs*

i don't remember the date, but i'm pretty sure i'm tied with j-po.

All of a sudden, I am feeling like the world's biggest mama's boy loser.

How much longer till I can have that beer again?

*pokes jonmc* It's a well known fact that mamma's boys are animals in the sack. See also: entire nation of Italy

Speaking of the sack, we've completely negelcted the Kinkiest sex experiences? part of your post

Well, there was that time I was getting road head and rear-ended the car in front of me. He pulled over, I pulled over, her head popped up, he waved me on my merry way.

Same girl.

At this point, I think I'd be afraid of the answers...

Speaking of the sack, we've completely negelcted the Kinkiest sex experiences? part of your post

Three words: Cambodian Midget Family

Don't worry, jonmc. I was older than you when I lost my virginity. Not by much, but I still got you beat.

And the soundtrack to this altogether humiliating experience? Joy Division. "Unknown Pleasures".

Lump this entry together with my 12.24 and I'm sure you all want to be my friend right about now!

Myfirst time was in Hawaii, the week of my 17th birthday.

See, I'd won a motorcycle on some TV contest, and sold it and bought the trip instead (I'd already left home and was washing dishes for a living. It was a union gig - I had no idea how not-grown-up-yet I was).

Her name was Glynnis. She was 16 and a little taller than I was, with hippie-straight dark brown hair, she kicked sand on me while I sat on the beach in Waikiki, and by the end of the afternoon we were in her hotel room while her parents were off shopping.

It was both of our first time. We kept in touch until she got married, which was only a couple of years later. Still.

My second time was in Rome (mmm, it's not just the boys, Kimmy), and then London, which says less about my luck on this continent than it says about how often I took advantage of any opportunity to get the hell out of town, given half a chance.

uh. i could beat jonmc for oldest lost, but i don't think i want to play this game.

god, i'm going to be an old maid.

a SEXY old maid.

"Speaking of the sack, we've completely neglected the Kinkiest sex experiences? part of your post"

You wouldn't believe me.

Lemme guess. You're Cambodian?

No, a midget.

Kink-wise, I'm remarkably pedestrian. No orgies (got invited to one threesome, but it was the [ahem] wrong kind of threesome, so I politely declined), no midgets, no big-leather-mask-with-a-red-rubber-ball-for-a-mouth's, no roman candles lodged in my butt, no sniffing ladies shoes, no pseudo-vampirism, and nary a Cambodian in sight.

What's wrong with me??

I'm sorry Fes, praytell what is the *wrong* kind of threesome? Did it involve pygmy goats?

well, not 'wrong' per se, just not for me. The 2-guy, 1-girl threesome, as opposed to the 2-girl, 1-guy threesome.

My parochialism is showing, please forgive me.

Probably the wrong kind, as in:

'Hey baby, wanna have a threesome?'
'Sure, as long as I get to pick the other guy.'

Fes was the other guy.

There is no wrong threesome.

/jedi mind trick

lunch was Carls Jr. whooot.

virginity. wow. strange to read old things i've written online. damn internet, always reminding me of how i used to think. don't think that anymore. but the age was true. 25 read em' and weep jonmc. i was mostly mormon until i turned 25, that is why, mostly.

Kinkiest? Like, the time I did it and I *wasn't* on a bed? Like that? That was freaky, let me tell you. I mean, NO BED INVOLVED. How insane is that?

I'm a wild woman.

Oh well. I don't feel quite so bad. Although, mine was not on religious or moral grounds, just social inadequacy and pimples.

As far as kinks goes, (I'll be subtle) the evening ended with me suggesting that proctor and gamble market Prell with [ahem] a special additive.

It was this girl, the same one who (I'll be blunt) praised my willingness to rim-job and my technique, and in the same phone conversation worried about demonic possession via my Black Sabbath records. She's currently a parent, just to set your mind at ease.

Also (just to end this on a wholesome note, I just bit into one of the new white chocolate reese's peanut butter cups. Badass.

Are you practicing your "technique" on that poor peanut butter cup?

You really wouldn't believe me, and besides, I have at least one family member that would be reading it.. and that's just not right.

Somehow, for one who the majority of his waking hours is spent so focused on the taste of things to be so willing to pull a rimmy, is perverse beyond measure.

Jon, I hope before god you weren't going "mmmmm... you ate cannoli wednesday... with... yes, I believe that's a White Zinfandel... outstanding."

dong made me choke on my snack mix.

Ha!

i have no words.

Virginity lost: age 19. Hey, Cowboy Sally, I had "Holiday in Cambodia" playing. Is that worse than "Dark Side?!"

Kinkfest: Broom closet at NYU/Rusk Medical Center... In college, on the banks of the Mighty Hudson River (we almost fell in)... various automobiles, but then, who hasn't... I stripped once, in a college radio station booth (on the air) -- back when I was a size 5 (just so y'all know)...

Here's a story for everyone: 1989. "Lost weekend" in college. Total juke n'puke fest -- at some point, *everyone* I knew had thrown up from ingestion of some kind of alcohol. I started off the proceedings by going to a "toxic waste" party, involving grain alcohol, grape koolaid, and a garbage pail. "There's no alcohol in here!" were my famous last words. So I'm *wasted,* on the floor, propped up against the wall in my friend Ron's room, and there's this way cute punk boy -- mohawk, handcuffs, gorgeous eyes, etc. -- across the room. He politely helped me to my feet when I needed to stagger into the bathroom to throw up. Eventually, the party broke up and I went on home.

Next night: radio station party. Cute Punk Boy was there, and this time, *he* got wasted, while I was mildly drunk. He put his handcuffs on my left wrist as a sign of affection. We later went back to my townhouse, made out on the couch, and then I held his head while he threw up. (Ah, young lust!) He passed out on my couch, and disappeared into the ether when we had a fire drill at 6:30 am. (This is only a snippet of that weekend -- it was actually pretty legendary...) We hung out a few times after that, but nothing major. He didn't come back to school the next year.

Flash-forward to 1997. I'm having a meeting with my web design company ('cause I didn't know *anything* at that time), and they decide to bring in their new hire. Yes, gang, you guessed it -- it was Cute Punk Boy! I sat through that entire first meeting thinking, "Oh, my GOD, I wore your handcuffs and had your tounge in my mouth!" Still a cool guy; he's now married, in upstate NY, and has a kid.

Small world, eh?

first meeting thinking, "Oh, my GOD, I wore your handcuffs and had your tonuge in my mouth!"
His tongue was his lasting impression; take it his tongue was bigger? I can touch the tip of my nose with my tongue :D
I kid because I'm not going any deeper into this topic as I just did, folks ;)
tonuge
Wait did you mean tongue or tonnage...?

"Tongue." I can't spell today. :P

soundtrack was Enigma. sure that was responsible as well. damn perverse sexy music.

would love to throw jerry falwell and john ashcroft into a broom closet together with that playing....no way they would be able to resist each other. *going home to get that image out of my mind any way possible.*

Re: Virginity loss soundtrack. At one point in the evening I put on "I Want To Take You Higher" by sly and the family stone(I was ambitious) she danced naked or a few minutes then gave up any pretense of keeping up with the rhythm.

Also, re college fucking. I had a female freind named Leslie, we became tight buds pretty quick beacuse we were the only visibly hesher-esque types at this college full of people who were trying on the artsy-bohemian thing for size. Plus her dad was a fire caotain in the midwestern city where my uncle lives. We sort of came across as beavis and butthead visiting the set of Shprockets.

But that's not important right now. What is important is Leslie's sexual habits. She came to visit me at home one summer and we spent the afternoon drinking a case of Bud in the woods with my buddy Chris ( a dead ringer for Slash) and this other girl. At some point, Leslie and Chris started drunkenly smooching, and me and the other girl decided to give them some room and wandered off to shoot the breeze. I didn't make a move on the other girl because I am a moron.

Anyways, after a half hour or so, we wander back and I see Leslie's legs up in the air in a V and Chris' (thankfully still denim clad) ass pumping furiously.

"Oh, Fuck, I'm sorry" I blurted.

Chris got up, said "You are a true freind and bear-hugged me.

One year later: Me and Leslie and this guy Joe ( a dead ringer for Vincent Spano* ) are out drinking. I have a cold. this is important. Anyways we get back to my dorm and I'm a little sloshed, so I flop onto my bed. They start talking on the other bed and I hear a low mumble of conversation and halfways drift off. My sleep was interrupted by the dull boing-boing-boing of creaking bedsprings. I did my best to feign oblivion but my cold caused me to cough occasionally and gave me away.

Soon I heard sighs and cigarettes being lit. The Joe's voice saying "Jon...you can quit pretending your asleep now."

Heh. I began to wonder if Leslie could only have sex with me in the room, which would've cut into my cocktail hour considerably. Chris came to NYC for a visit and we all went to see the Ramones together. They had sex, but thankfully waited for me to drink myself comatose first, thus breaking the streak.

Leslie worked at strip club called "Honey Bunz" briefly, then went to medical school last I heard. Chris drifted off until he resurfaced working at a gas station around the time me and lisa started dating. he helped us move in, and confessed that he had gotten some girl pregnant and had to marry her. A week or so later we got hammered in a dump called kelly's and he drunkenly blabbered that we should hunt down Leslie so they could reunite. That's the last I saw him.

*I always have handsome male freinds. I do not know what this signifies.

Jon, you bring up your friends looking better than you a lot. Birds of a feather flock together, you monkey are a peacock too.(please ignore the impersonation comment next thread over so this will fly). It’s all in the attitude not the looks. Ask your squeeze now...

I'm not a peacock, more of a woodpecker actually.

*pecks through telephone pole, flys away and poops on windsheild*

Hey, I just washed my car...woodpecker, have a family of them behind my place, never seen one so close until moving to Texas and it is a sleek swift flying bird...but it pecks on my vinyl siding. There was a girl gang in Cali called PeckerWood if you were single we could have you ganged up on Jon.

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