fallenmystic
Tribune
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Why do I like Cruxforums?
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
bobinder
ARTISAN
LittleSiss
Sorceress
WTF!!!!!????
;p
Naraku
Draconarius
Kissing leads to Petting leads to Fucking leads to Wedding...shouldn't there be a town between Fucking and Wedding called Possitivepregnacytest?
fallenmystic
Tribune
Maybe not, if they could take an alternate route passing through this French town:Kissing leads to Petting leads to Fucking leads to Wedding...shouldn't there be a town between Fucking and Wedding called Possitivepregnacytest?
Condom-d'Aubrac — Wikipédia
fr.wikipedia.org
Frank Petrexa
Tribune
The same place they got "ox ford" and "cam bridge". Throw in some middle English and you have all kinds of weird names in an ancient country like Britain. Even in a not so ancient country like the US, you have Window Rock and Tombstone, Arizona, "Truth or Consequences", New Mexico (I won't tell the story), Council Bluffs, Iowa, Eau Claire, Wisconsin, Gas City, Indiana, Butte, Montana, Jackson Hole, Wyoming (of Federal Reserve fame). I don't know where Lompoc and Rancho Cucumonga in California or Walla Walla in Washington came from. It's clear where Bountiful, Utah originated. Then there's Wounded Knee--featured in the poem "American names" by Stephen Vincent Benet. Frostbite Falls may be fictitious, but it isn't beyond the Pale (which I think refers to the Irish lands outside the "Ulster Plantation".
Frank Petrexa
Tribune
Well, no one has ever seen me. I could be a bot. And I don't particularly like beer--warm, cold, or in between. I only drink it (in small quantities) when it is required for social reasons (I have friends who take a very different view than that).All great examples! Welcome to the Red Lion, Frank! So glad you’ve turned up.
The Pee Dee river in South Carolina is named after a native American tribe. There was an important battle during the Revolutionary War fought at "Cowpens". Ore is a big thing in America. Telluride, Colorado, Galena, Illinois.
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fallenmystic
Tribune
Even though I've "liked" every post about beer in this thread, I have to confess that I know nothing of the subject as I don't drink.
I may drink beer if someone offers it when I'm thirsty or wine, especially if it's accompanied by some cheese. But I'm not into any alcoholic beverage in general, as I don't like the feeling it dulls my senses.
When it comes to coffee, I'd rather inject caffeine into my veins directly than having to drink decaffeinated sort. But I may be interested in "dealcoholized" wine, if there is one which tastes the same as the real one. (Sorry, I know I just committed a blasphemy... but the worst punishment I could suffer for anything here is crucifixion, which is supposed to be a great thing, right?
)
I may drink beer if someone offers it when I'm thirsty or wine, especially if it's accompanied by some cheese. But I'm not into any alcoholic beverage in general, as I don't like the feeling it dulls my senses.
When it comes to coffee, I'd rather inject caffeine into my veins directly than having to drink decaffeinated sort. But I may be interested in "dealcoholized" wine, if there is one which tastes the same as the real one. (Sorry, I know I just committed a blasphemy... but the worst punishment I could suffer for anything here is crucifixion, which is supposed to be a great thing, right?
)
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
"To someone with a hammer, everything is a nail!"
There is the great Pee Dee and the Little Pee Dee. The whole northeast region of SC is sometimes called the Pee Dee, although that designation is nowadays reserved for the inland, underdeveloped, "backward" part of the state.
"You mean like to Fernhurst, Lickfold, or Tote Hill? Where do they get these place names? They all sound either erotic or ominous." - @Barbaria1
Re: place names. There is this bit of double entendres from a CF story of a virgin being auctioned off:
“In summary, the high bidder will go on a journey; he’ll go in at Bushey! Pass Virginia Water, And leave Staines behind.”
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In due time, I returned from the loo to find the party in full swing. It was amazing ... so remarkable that so many would have traveled the world just to be at the Red Lion for that momentous evening!
I procured a fresh glass of Riesling from the bar ... my fourth ... and feeling light hearted and gay, as well as a trifle unsteady, I began to mingle ... sashaying about the crowded floor, greeting everyone gaily.
I spotted Dorothy Brown off to one side, holding court, regaling a circle of CFers with her crazy ribald fantasy stories of nights in Detroit, or of sitting on a dunking stand at a fair waiting to be dunked. I loitered in the fringes, laughing along with the others, amused by the naughty absurdity of it all.
Wandering off, I exchanged greetings with newly arrived DarkPrincess69 and Erin, before tottering over towards the low stage along the room’s far wall, which presumably was the place where musicians might perform for a festive event like a wedding celebration.
But this night, that stage was to serve a different purpose, for hard at work there were CFs most accomplished cross builders, TheHangingTree and Baracus. And I could see that they had nearly finished constructing five new wooden crosses alongside the one I had seen Kathy hanging from when I had first arrived nearly two hours earlier. Kathy was gone now, returned to the party. Apparently she had only been up there earlier for the purpose of testing the cross design ... trying it out for size, one might say.
Tree noticed me standing near the edge of the stage, and when he had finished driving a nail, he set his hammer downtood up and said to me, “Hiya Barb, how’s it going?”
To which I slurrred, “Fine, Ah think.”
I have to admit I was felling quite tipsy by then after consuming nearly four glasses.
Coming over, he put an arm around me, guided me onto the stage and over to one of the crosses to ask me what I thought of the workmanship.
I said it looked a bit crooked ... you know ... lopsided.
He stared at it appraisingly for about a minute, and said, “Nope, straight as an arrow.”
I figured he had to be drunk, so I turned around and headed back towards the party but promptly ran straight into an upright timber secured to a heavy supporting base.
I muttered, “excuse me,” thinking I had plowed into someone. But realizing my mistake, I turned to the nearest person, who turned out to be Harsh Martinet, and blurted out, “what the fuck izzat?”
“It’s a whipping post, Barb,” was his earnest reply. “Would you like to try it out? ... topless, perhsps?”
“No thangsh.”
I was about to ask about another wooden apparatus on the stage, that looked like some kind of bench, when my attention was diverted by the ringing/clanging sound of a spoon tapping on the side of a glass.
The buzz of conversation gradually hushed as the ringing persisted.
It was Eul, assuming her role as mistress of ceremonies, and calling our attention to the evening’s main event, which she reminded us was about to commence with a drawing of names to determine who among us would have the honor of adornIng those six crosses for the enjoyment of all assembled.
But first she said that she needed to explain the ground rules. The drawing of the names, she said, was to be done by RacingRodent and Rias, neither of whom would be expected to take their duty seriously, which meant the results could be expected to be as fixed as a Belarus election
She went on to explain that the lucky or unlucky winners ... depending on which way one looked at it ... would be chosen one at a time, and would each be expected to submit to the following before the next lucky CFer was chosen: 1) the removal of all or most of their clothing, 2) acceptance of a pre-crux preparatory punishment, either facing the whipping post or bent over the caning bench ... the number of lashes or strokes administered to be determined by the roll of four dice, and 3) to be crucified on one of the six crosses upon which they would writhe, wiggle and dance for an undetermined period of time for the entertainment of all.
At that point, she turned the proceedings over to RR, who “scurried” up onto the stage carrying a fishbowl full of small folded white cards. He held the bowl out for Rias, who with a Cheshire Cat grin, reached in to fish out a card, which she promptly handed to RR.
He unfolded it, held it up to the light theatrically and announced, “Our first winner is ....... BARB!”
Wouldn’t you know it?
“Oh Shit!” I muttered under my breath, and drained the last of my fourth glass,
I procured a fresh glass of Riesling from the bar ... my fourth ... and feeling light hearted and gay, as well as a trifle unsteady, I began to mingle ... sashaying about the crowded floor, greeting everyone gaily.
I spotted Dorothy Brown off to one side, holding court, regaling a circle of CFers with her crazy ribald fantasy stories of nights in Detroit, or of sitting on a dunking stand at a fair waiting to be dunked. I loitered in the fringes, laughing along with the others, amused by the naughty absurdity of it all.
Wandering off, I exchanged greetings with newly arrived DarkPrincess69 and Erin, before tottering over towards the low stage along the room’s far wall, which presumably was the place where musicians might perform for a festive event like a wedding celebration.
But this night, that stage was to serve a different purpose, for hard at work there were CFs most accomplished cross builders, TheHangingTree and Baracus. And I could see that they had nearly finished constructing five new wooden crosses alongside the one I had seen Kathy hanging from when I had first arrived nearly two hours earlier. Kathy was gone now, returned to the party. Apparently she had only been up there earlier for the purpose of testing the cross design ... trying it out for size, one might say.
Tree noticed me standing near the edge of the stage, and when he had finished driving a nail, he set his hammer downtood up and said to me, “Hiya Barb, how’s it going?”
To which I slurrred, “Fine, Ah think.”
I have to admit I was felling quite tipsy by then after consuming nearly four glasses.
Coming over, he put an arm around me, guided me onto the stage and over to one of the crosses to ask me what I thought of the workmanship.
I said it looked a bit crooked ... you know ... lopsided.
He stared at it appraisingly for about a minute, and said, “Nope, straight as an arrow.”
I figured he had to be drunk, so I turned around and headed back towards the party but promptly ran straight into an upright timber secured to a heavy supporting base.
I muttered, “excuse me,” thinking I had plowed into someone. But realizing my mistake, I turned to the nearest person, who turned out to be Harsh Martinet, and blurted out, “what the fuck izzat?”
“It’s a whipping post, Barb,” was his earnest reply. “Would you like to try it out? ... topless, perhsps?”
“No thangsh.”
I was about to ask about another wooden apparatus on the stage, that looked like some kind of bench, when my attention was diverted by the ringing/clanging sound of a spoon tapping on the side of a glass.
The buzz of conversation gradually hushed as the ringing persisted.
It was Eul, assuming her role as mistress of ceremonies, and calling our attention to the evening’s main event, which she reminded us was about to commence with a drawing of names to determine who among us would have the honor of adornIng those six crosses for the enjoyment of all assembled.
But first she said that she needed to explain the ground rules. The drawing of the names, she said, was to be done by RacingRodent and Rias, neither of whom would be expected to take their duty seriously, which meant the results could be expected to be as fixed as a Belarus election
She went on to explain that the lucky or unlucky winners ... depending on which way one looked at it ... would be chosen one at a time, and would each be expected to submit to the following before the next lucky CFer was chosen: 1) the removal of all or most of their clothing, 2) acceptance of a pre-crux preparatory punishment, either facing the whipping post or bent over the caning bench ... the number of lashes or strokes administered to be determined by the roll of four dice, and 3) to be crucified on one of the six crosses upon which they would writhe, wiggle and dance for an undetermined period of time for the entertainment of all.
At that point, she turned the proceedings over to RR, who “scurried” up onto the stage carrying a fishbowl full of small folded white cards. He held the bowl out for Rias, who with a Cheshire Cat grin, reached in to fish out a card, which she promptly handed to RR.
He unfolded it, held it up to the light theatrically and announced, “Our first winner is ....... BARB!”
Wouldn’t you know it?
“Oh Shit!” I muttered under my breath, and drained the last of my fourth glass,
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Gibbs505
SERVORUM DOMITOR
And in the Yukon, there are two rivers, the Snafu which is fed from a lake of the same name; and the Tarfu, which flows in Tarfu lake!
I slide quietly in the Red Lion and approach the bar.
"Sir, this is a private..."
I hold my hand up. "I know what it is,: I say quietly. "I will have a double Bruichladdich,"
"Ice sir." I just look at him.
"Of course not sir, her."
I thank him and look around. Seeing a table with some interesting items I wander over. Ah yes, I pick one up, a four foot long English cane made up of birch wood......
M
montycrusto
Guest
Don’t know this guy..
What? She’s not allowed in the pub! She’s bard !
Can’t let a doublay entendray like that pass without appreciation..
It’s spelled “whine”
thank you Barb for hostessing this entertaining thread. Bottoms Up!
I found only a old postcard with the last Crucifixion of a rebelious barbarian girl from the 1930s.
M
montycrusto
Guest
In Haslemere lived a young maid,
Who was wayward and often got laid.
To a cross she was nailed,
On a cornu impaled,
And so for her lust she has paid.
Quiet Paul
Tribune
It really is time we returned to the old ways.....
oho me know who will be second winner but me not tell so dont ask me naughty curious animals meow
Can you at least give us a little clue? Enquiring minds want to know.
That can’t be real. You made that up, right?
Don’t know this guy..
Neither apparently does my iPhone autocorrect
I found only a old postcard with the last Crucifixion of a rebelious barbarian girl from the 1930s.
Might have known Madiosi would come up with that
Hmmmmmm ....
In Haslemere lived a young maid,
Who was wayward and often got laid.
To a cross she was nailed,
On a cornu impaled,
And so for her lust she has paid.
Giggle snort
thank you Barb for hostessing this entertaining thread. Bottoms Up!
❤
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windar
Teller of Tales
The origin of the term was from the Pale of Settlement, which was the area of Czarist Russia in which Jews were permitted to live (mostly parts of Ukraine and Belarus and Lithuania).