(A)llies (I)n (R)ecovery {Exotic}

A Modern BB Mating Ritual
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Author:  MambyPambyFratBoy [ Fri Jun 17, 2011 12:47 am ]
Post subject:  A Modern BB Mating Ritual

Hey Peg;
Hey Bella;
Do you two have anything interesting planned for this summer besides badmouthing guys? :D
I'd like you to meet Pixie, Dixie and Trixie.
The Four of us along with The 'WeekendWinnerWorkShop Crew' are hosting a 1 ,2 ,3 Step Summer Marathon at TriVoltaHouse.
There will be bottomless coffee pots, cookies and Big Books all around.
Author:  SevenOfNine [ Sat Jun 18, 2011 1:49 am ]
Post subject:  Re: A Modern BB Mating Ritual

Hello MambyPambyFratBoy;

Yeah, we are doing this Summer Special for Newcomers.
And perhaps if we get Lucky some Old Timers will show up to review their stuff and be a power of example.
'Hot Fun in the Sun for EveryOne' is our motto this year.(catchy ain't it?)
We have 21 pair of Free Tickets to give away.
To request yours simply send an email to admin@weekendwinnerworkshop.org
Include your Real Name, your written story and a valid email address. Subject is: I wanna Free 1, 2, 3.
The tickets will be sent to your valid email address.

Author:  WilliamGriffithWilson [ Tue Jun 21, 2011 10:44 am ]
Post subject:  Re: A Modern BB Mating Ritual

War fever ran high in the New England town
to which we new, young officers from Platts-
burg were assigned, and we were flattered when the
first citizens took us to their homes, making us feel
heroic. Here was love, applause, war; moments sub-
lime with intervals hilarious. I was part of life at last,
and in the midst of the excitement I discovered liquor.
I forgot the strong warnings and the prejudices of my
people concerning drink. In time we sailed for “Over
There.’’ I was very lonely and again turned to alcohol.
We landed in England. I visited Winchester Cathe-
dral. Much moved, I wandered outside. My attention
was caught by a doggerel on an old tombstone:

“Here lies a Hampshire Grenadier
Who caught his death
Drinking cold small beer.
A good soldier is ne’er forgot
Whether he dieth by musket
Or by pot.”

Ominous warning—which I failed to heed.
Twenty-two, and a veteran of foreign wars, I went
home at last. I fancied myself a leader, for had not the
men of my battery given me a special token of appre-
ciation? My talent for leadership, I imagined, would
place me at the head of vast enterprises which I would
manage with the utmost assurance.

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