I approve of this thread.
Important note to MODS:
I never actually posted all of this. Maniacal Mongoose has my password, this is just her strategic way of getting me banned. I’ve changed my password now.
She deserves a warning for this, this really isn’t acceptable.
^[1]$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ MODS: THIS IS PRICELESS, SUBJECT: SHARED LIES…by MANNEQUIN $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$[/b]^^
Mannequin only wishes to punish me over at KT. Please don’t give him what he wants, don’t be fooled by Mannequin.
Mannequin, you are nuts! =D> Mods, suspend Mannequin so he can come back as another sock puppet.
b ↩︎
yeah like anybody’s going to believe that, trix…when you have like three or four known accounts on here…“GreatandWiseTrixie”, “Ultimate Philosophy”, “ManiacalMongoose”…you have a trixie one AND “ForkedPath” over at KT…to which you have been warned about by Lysaa for having multiple accounts…i think things are pretty obvious…
Why all the games?
4/29/16 PLEASE DO NOT POST ANYMORE REPLIES IN THIS THREAD**
a-z
The End.
please don’t have a mental breakdown.
Is that all you’ve got?
Ring, ring. Report coming in from…
CPR given, thread will continue on until all regurgitate profusely. Projectile vomiting encouraged.
Being a creature of whim cannot be denied. Her dreams, if you are so lucky to be in them, take you places, adventurous places where she, the tomboy, runs wild.
Aside: Had the pleasure of dining with two childhood friends in my mid-twenties, a meal I’ll always savor in which I was honored with their praise for bringing the exciting times to their childhoods. A compliment that I’ll never forget.
This all seems a little gay.
Gay happiness, imagine that?
At 3, my first boyfriend was a neighbor, David, also 3. Our best time was escaping supervision and running off into the six feet high stalks of corn, deep into the field beyond our apartment complex. My Grandfather was like The Incredible Hulk when he finally found us after his lengthy, panicked search.
A blond hippie named Zak turned my head next at 4. I was completely smitten. Somewhere there’s a photograph of the two of us together looking very sophisticated. I didn’t even fight wearing the dress.
Now Robbie, who was 8, literally tackled me to steal a kiss from my 1st grade lips. This was a match that he won fair and square. He chased me down over the course of a block and wrapped his arms around my legs, successfully dragging me down into the plush grass to my Mother’s horror from behind the back screen door. She charged out to drag him off of me. A few hours later the doorbell rang, repeatedly. There stood Robbie with the neighbor’s plucked flowers in hand and he apologized to my Mom and I.
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=18c_02ay4Yo[/youtube]
Barbara Streisand-Memories The Way We Were
Ah, school days began with pre-school at 4 yrs. old and included kindergarten. There, I learned to make butter and petted many exotic animals. Naptimes were problematic though as they had always been. The kicker was that coins were acquired under one’s cot by sleeping, coins that would allow for the purchase of treats. I was a terrible actress, my fluttering eyelids gave me away every day. Hence, I became accustomed to frugality early on.
The playground there was magnificent. The swinging gate and the mock pirate ship with the trap door were imagination inciters. The ship was elevated on heavy duty springs which allowed for it to rock and roll. The delights didn’t end with the equipment but continued past the windows of a nursing home. Visiting with the smiles of all the Grandmas and Grandpas was the greatest!
I didn’t attend the “big kids school” until I was in 1st grade. What smells and sounds, not forgotten yet. Raggedy Ann’s tin smile greeted me every morning where one of two entrees would await my lack of surprise at noon, pimped out metal lunchboxes were all the rage. Those lunchboxes reeked of peanut butter and grape jam sandwiches and Spaghetti O’s with meatballs, but on the flip side, school furnished chocolate milk was always on the menu.
About 28 students to each first grade classroom and being that I had not attended kindergarten at that school, I was placed in the slow class. Isn’t it awful that children are privy to such knowledge so early on? Perhaps my ears were quickened while I twiddled my thumbs throughout the first semester of that year. After the second semester transfer up the ladder in rank, I didn’t notice anything more challenging. Come to think of it, I learned nothing for two years at that school, other than how to create a bad-assed haunted house put on by the 7th and 8th graders. They floored me! Walking that horrifying maze up and down three flights through mysterious parts of the school yet unseen is burned into my mind.
During my second grade year, my parents built their first home in which they did a lot of the finishing work. The subdivision was growing at a steady rate. Our house was the second to be built on that side of the street, set back in a court. Long hours my parents worked to build the deck and the cement patio, not to mention an entire summer of staining this and that, installing carpet throughout, and designing the basement, family room with those damn 1970’s mirrors up the yin-yang. They were a hazard, an optical illusion that many people walked right smack into.