Holy shit, that's awesome.

If that's what the Pedopublicans call a "Faggot", I wanna be one too.

Ditto puke & cry.

He's hot.

Ow ow ow ow ow. No. Do not want.

If that's what the Pedopublicans call a "Faggot",

Well that's what Ann Coulter called him, and she has no ribs, merely an exoskeleton like all predatory insects.

An ex broke her own nose on the top of my head once. Not too get too graphic, but she was on top, and kind of got going, and then she did something which made me sit up rather quickly out of self-preservation, and half a second later, eyes closed, she whacked her face full speed into the top of my head. Blood everywhere, the poor thing's nose bridge was cross-wise on her face, etc., eeeewwwww!!!

That was a tough evening in the emergency room, believe me. Doesn't matter what your story is, they check her all over for bruises and other signs of mistreatment, and give you the evil eye the whole time.

Understandable, I guess, but not a great way to build memories...

A girl I dated liked to wrestle a lot and since she wasn't the largest of people she was quite fierce in order to compensate. Once, when we had only started seeing each other, she tried to pin me during a post-coital moment. In the excitement, she managed to elbow me in the nose so hard I heard a loud crack. Although I doubled over in pain, she thought I was bluffing and continued to press her advantage. Once she realized it wasn't a ruse she somehow managed to get semen in my eyes while trying to comfort me. All this followed an incident earlier in the evening when she demonstrated a Ju Jitsu move which landed me on the floor with my head having narrowly missed the leg of a steel stool.

Man, was she great in bed.

(It turned out that my nose wasn't broken, or at least it didn't need to be re-set. Apparently fractured noses are left to heal on their own since you can't very well splint them.)

Edwards is hot, now?! *shivers* Ico, are you okay darling?

what's even hotter is the way he not-so-sheepishly avoids answering the question.

This just proves what I have long suspected: politics and professional wrestling have merged into one thing.

p.s. Ann Coulter, Glenn Beck, Rush, et al... they're not SERIOUS. They don't really believe the stuff they write / say: they just want money and they'll say anything to get some.

Heh @ ico. Edwards is a weakie standard spiel evasion politician. I haven't seen him yet at a public event where he didn't say, "My daddy worked in a mill." As if, we should return to those days. Yeah, *that's* progressive.

C'mon, chewie, he means he understands blue collar people even though he's a big-time lawyer. That's a lot more real than "my daddy ran the CIA and the RNC, and my grandpa was a banker/senator".

I am not averse to any of them, but of all the Dems this cycle, Edwards is the only one I really like like.

Anyway, I hope this doesn't turn out to be like Al Gore wearing earth tones, or kissing Tipper.

"My daddy worked in a Medicaid mill. As far back as I can recall, us kids would wake up early, run across the street to the pharmacy, and tell the boss there that if they had less rock than they did when we closed the day before, daddy would come around and there'd be hell to pay. Sometimes we'd go uptown for prescription blanks; there was a guy working for daddy and also for DSS who would lose boxes of real forms -- the government paid us for every prescription filled -- and my brother and I would strap those boxes to the back of my bike and ride all the way down Second Avenue and back to the crackhou-- I mean, mill. We rarely had any trouble from the customers; daddy would see them for about twenty seconds and there'd be a prescription in their hand before they could start freaking out or shitting their pants or anything. Sometimes I wonder what diseases all those prescriptions were for, all those long names with letters at the end, that just ended up across the street in exchange for a vial and two rocks, but I know we were giving away rock for free because the DSS would pay us more for the prescriptions than anyone would ever pay for the rock itself. I remember painting the sign. We misspelled "PHARMACY," and my brother gave daddy lip about it when he saw it: daddy said, "You misspelled 'pharmacy,'" and my brother said, "We misspelled 'crackhouse,' too," and then daddy tanned his hide so he couldn't walk for two weeks. I bet my brother wished he had a prescription then.

"Anyway, coming up as a miller's son in the city was hard, but we always had enough to go around. Daddy used to call himself a miller and a miner, both; he said it was like the Yukon rush, all that valuable rock hidden under the snow. Hard rock time turned to hard time for him, so I know what it's like to miss your daddy. So vote for me. I know how to make money, and I have experience getting government to work for the people."

FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
You were lucky. We lived for three months in a paper bag in a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six in the morning, clean the paper bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down t' mill, fourteen hours a day, week-in week-out, for sixpence a week, and when we got home our Dad would thrash us to sleep wi' his belt.
SECOND YORKSHIREMAN:
Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at six o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of 'ot gravel, work twenty hour day at mill for tuppence a month, come home, and Dad would thrash us to sleep with a broken bottle, if we were lucky!
THIRD YORKSHIREMAN:
Well, of course, we had it tough. We used to 'ave to get up out of shoebox at twelve o'clock at night and lick road clean wit' tongue. We had two bits of cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day at mill for sixpence every four years, and when we got home our Dad would slice us in two wit' bread knife.
FOURTH YORKSHIREMAN:
Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night half an hour before I went to bed, drink a cup of sulphuric acid, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad and our mother would kill us and dance about on our graves singing Hallelujah.
FIRST YORKSHIREMAN:
And you try and tell the young people of today that ..... they won't believe you.

That's a lot more real than "my daddy ran the CIA and the RNC, and my grandpa was a banker/senator".

Not to mention being in cahoots with the Nazis.

Wow. I don't even know how you'd do that.

I don't like Edwards, but... he's gone up in my esteem, that's for damn sure.

Though I would feel like hell if I did that.

Her rib broke because she has cancer - the rib was cancerous. Even if it weren't, I'm not getting how this would make him cool? It seems pretty awful to me.

stilicho - I dunno I just can't relate to him for some reason. He never seems to say anything of substance. I *do* like his wife's stance on gays (even though I think marriage is a dated institution that should be a thoroughly private affair regardless of what flavor/color/planetary origin from which the parties hail.)

...she has no ribs, merely an exoskeleton like all predatory insects.

Awesome.