A Stirring Tale of Romance, Beauty & Mis-Adventure: Degas Invades Italy!
Jun 17th, 2006, 02:23 PM
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A Stirring Tale of Romance, Beauty & Mis-Adventure: Degas Invades Italy!
It all began on a warm, breezy, �Aloha� Friday afternoon in lovely Honolulu.
I had given my man-servant the day off from his rigorous duties at my expansive beach mansion, so I was forced to whip my large and very expensive Toyota Corolla through heavy traffic on the H-1 towards the busy airport.
Just minutes before, I had raced out of the office and been pursued far into the parking lot by an angry raging mob - jealous co-workers who demanded spreadsheets and power point slides for some silly presentation or another. Happiness was seeing those demented bloodsuckers in my rearview mirror. I smiled at the thought of them discovering I had �liberated� all the candy bars in the office fridge for my long overnight flight.
A super hot babe anxiously awaited me in Florida. But first, this sensitive, but macho man had to get through tight security. And that was a chore as my broad, hairy back tightened up something fierce and I had to darn near strip naked. Just as I as about to remove my silk drawers with the bugs bunny figures and give those leering TSA louts an amazing sight that would haunt them for a decade or more, I remembered the metal plate in my head and alerted the skillful TSA crew to the beeping wands!
They were cranky from their naps and doubtful at first, but I let them bounce a few 9mm rounds off the back of my head and they finally waved me on my way after the smoke cleared.
In the noise and confusion, the normally ruthlessly efficient agricultural inspectors failed to detect me smuggling out a bag of illicit mangos and passion fruit. Another small victory for the little guy.
More to follow
I had given my man-servant the day off from his rigorous duties at my expansive beach mansion, so I was forced to whip my large and very expensive Toyota Corolla through heavy traffic on the H-1 towards the busy airport.
Just minutes before, I had raced out of the office and been pursued far into the parking lot by an angry raging mob - jealous co-workers who demanded spreadsheets and power point slides for some silly presentation or another. Happiness was seeing those demented bloodsuckers in my rearview mirror. I smiled at the thought of them discovering I had �liberated� all the candy bars in the office fridge for my long overnight flight.
A super hot babe anxiously awaited me in Florida. But first, this sensitive, but macho man had to get through tight security. And that was a chore as my broad, hairy back tightened up something fierce and I had to darn near strip naked. Just as I as about to remove my silk drawers with the bugs bunny figures and give those leering TSA louts an amazing sight that would haunt them for a decade or more, I remembered the metal plate in my head and alerted the skillful TSA crew to the beeping wands!
They were cranky from their naps and doubtful at first, but I let them bounce a few 9mm rounds off the back of my head and they finally waved me on my way after the smoke cleared.
In the noise and confusion, the normally ruthlessly efficient agricultural inspectors failed to detect me smuggling out a bag of illicit mangos and passion fruit. Another small victory for the little guy.
More to follow
Jun 17th, 2006, 02:42 PM
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As I began reading your tale, an image of a tall, handsome man flickered to life from the deep recesses of my mind. "Who was this daring devil?" I asked myself. As I read the words,"the raging mob chased after me," the blurry vision of masculinity materialized in my mind's eye. Ah, yes. I remembered . . . Peter Malloy . . . aka Phil Blackwood . . . aka Tom Selleck, in<i> Her Alibi,</i> portraying a writer of BAD detective novels with writers' block.
Entertaining little movie in its day, as is the beginning of your trip report. Looking forward to the continuing saga, Peter . . . ah, I mean, degas.
Entertaining little movie in its day, as is the beginning of your trip report. Looking forward to the continuing saga, Peter . . . ah, I mean, degas.
Jun 17th, 2006, 03:18 PM
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A brief, but invigorating family reunion at my massive lakeside estate that completely dominates an utterly exclusive gated community in the flat, boring “old geezer state” of Florida followed.
It was great talking to all the little humble people who had the much, much smaller mansions in the area, the fox hunt and welcome home parade went off without a hitch, and the bribes to the parole board allowed several "black sheep" cousins to attend. All in all, a good time.
But foreign adventure awaited us and the LW and I soon flew to JFK (good gracious, how I hate the dirty restrooms there) to depart for our beloved Rome. All was without incident except for us two stylish travel icons being denied boarding.
Some snippy, little clerk had mistakenly put us on a later flight. The sheer nerve of that buck-toothed broad with a terribly bad dye job was so damn galling, I wanted to wrap my murderously strong hands around her pale, flabby …… .
I digress.
Anyway, sensing an adverse situation brewing, I pitched a quick hissy fit and stormed about, gesturing wildly and screaming loud, vile curses in various illegal immigrant languages.
What happened next was a true sight to behold. The stunned, confused crowd moved away and we strode confidently on board in our baseball caps, sweatshirts, blue jean cut-offs and flip-flops.
Eat your hearts out - you insecure, skinny, Pravda-wearing dorks.
More to follow
It was great talking to all the little humble people who had the much, much smaller mansions in the area, the fox hunt and welcome home parade went off without a hitch, and the bribes to the parole board allowed several "black sheep" cousins to attend. All in all, a good time.
But foreign adventure awaited us and the LW and I soon flew to JFK (good gracious, how I hate the dirty restrooms there) to depart for our beloved Rome. All was without incident except for us two stylish travel icons being denied boarding.
Some snippy, little clerk had mistakenly put us on a later flight. The sheer nerve of that buck-toothed broad with a terribly bad dye job was so damn galling, I wanted to wrap my murderously strong hands around her pale, flabby …… .
I digress.
Anyway, sensing an adverse situation brewing, I pitched a quick hissy fit and stormed about, gesturing wildly and screaming loud, vile curses in various illegal immigrant languages.
What happened next was a true sight to behold. The stunned, confused crowd moved away and we strode confidently on board in our baseball caps, sweatshirts, blue jean cut-offs and flip-flops.
Eat your hearts out - you insecure, skinny, Pravda-wearing dorks.
More to follow
Jun 17th, 2006, 03:48 PM
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A trip report as only our degas can..continue please kind sir..and don't leave out one little detail.
P.S. UHM, btw, that "check that was in the mail" three years ago..remember that investment..I never received it. Best regards.
P.S. UHM, btw, that "check that was in the mail" three years ago..remember that investment..I never received it. Best regards.
Jun 17th, 2006, 03:53 PM
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It was a bit of fun having all the younger flight attendants flirt with me as I preened a bit and stunned them by flexing my rippling chest and tricep muscles. But steady on, old boy, the LW has eyes in the back of her lovely head.
We stood a moment in business class and brushed away tears as we thought of our first mile high sessions. We vowed to sue the failing airline which shall remain nameless but has the letters DELT for mixing up our reservations.
Our white tennis shoes seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, and I swear we heard cattle mooing as we reluctantly walked to the back of the plane.
Aligning our tall, toned, slender, aerobically fit bodies easily into the 13 inch wide seats, we only had to use one seat belt extension to secure ourselves. We firmly notified all those within earshot that we would not tolerant loud talk or mindless gibber-jabber about “trips of a lifetime” or the “bad Euro exchange rate“. Then we indulged in a few care-free chuckles and tried not to look too smug as we recalled my brilliant acting which allowed us to board ahead of the rift raft and have plenty of overhead space for our carry-on luggage which contained a fine supper: fried chicken, baked beans, sweet potato pie, snap beans, fried okra, biscuits and gravy and peach pie.
After a gouging myself on my LW’s superb fixings, and downing eight or nine cold domestic American beers, I let out a huge volume of gas, and dozed off to sweet dreams of blood gladiator fights in the Forum.
I had no idea then that I would soon awake to a massive problem that would have surely killed a lesser, more mortal man.
More to follow
We stood a moment in business class and brushed away tears as we thought of our first mile high sessions. We vowed to sue the failing airline which shall remain nameless but has the letters DELT for mixing up our reservations.
Our white tennis shoes seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, and I swear we heard cattle mooing as we reluctantly walked to the back of the plane.
Aligning our tall, toned, slender, aerobically fit bodies easily into the 13 inch wide seats, we only had to use one seat belt extension to secure ourselves. We firmly notified all those within earshot that we would not tolerant loud talk or mindless gibber-jabber about “trips of a lifetime” or the “bad Euro exchange rate“. Then we indulged in a few care-free chuckles and tried not to look too smug as we recalled my brilliant acting which allowed us to board ahead of the rift raft and have plenty of overhead space for our carry-on luggage which contained a fine supper: fried chicken, baked beans, sweet potato pie, snap beans, fried okra, biscuits and gravy and peach pie.
After a gouging myself on my LW’s superb fixings, and downing eight or nine cold domestic American beers, I let out a huge volume of gas, and dozed off to sweet dreams of blood gladiator fights in the Forum.
I had no idea then that I would soon awake to a massive problem that would have surely killed a lesser, more mortal man.
More to follow
