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Real Men/Women of Genius #29

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  • The Troubadour
    Bud Light presents... REAL MEN OF GENIUS {Real men of geeeeeene-yuss} Today we salute you, Mr. Non-Sexual Co-Ed Room Sharer/Travel Companion. {Mis-ter
    Message 1 of 2 , Nov 13, 2009
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      Bud Light presents...


      REAL MEN OF GENIUS

      {Real men of geeeeeene-yuss}

      Today we salute you, Mr. Non-Sexual Co-Ed Room Sharer/Travel Companion.

      {Mis-ter "I'llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll only be
      neeeeeeeeeeding floor-space!"}

      Sure, the "call" went out for someone to help share expenses, and you
      gallantly volunteered. Except, of course, that the call went out from a
      woman, a naive young runner who'd never been to that race nor journeyed to
      that part of the country before. So you right away fire back an email
      saying you're practically a native son.

      {"I grewwwwwwww up on those same
      traiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiils!"}

      Motel 6? Super 8? You've spent time in them all, you say. You *know* all
      the proprietors-from-India. "We'll ask for the second-floor corner room,"
      you say. "It has a fold-out sofa-bed already in it." Except, of course,
      for the fact that Covert, Colorado, has NO Motel 6 OR Super 8 and really
      isn't much more than a campground itself.

      {"We'llllllllllllllllllllllllllllll find a playce! Doan-choooo wor-ry!"}

      So despite all predictions to the contrary, Miss Goody Two-Shoes accepts
      your offer and meets you at the airport. You pick her up in your rented SUV
      and there you are! Night before raceday and the only possible room is three
      towns distant on the second floor of Mrs. Haversham's Antique Store/Bed &
      Breakfast. And breakfast, by the way, will be served two hours after your
      ultramarathon has already started.

      {But theeeeeere's NO SO-FA BEDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!}

      Thank Ja for GPS, or you wouldn't even have ever found THAT. And what
      "that" is, is one little room with one queen-size bed and a
      half-bath-with-shower with a door that won't close. But that's not the half
      of it. Miss Goody says she'll sleep in her running clothes and then offers
      your butt one-half of the bed!

      {"But IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII al-ways sleeeeeeeeeeeeeep
      inn-the-buff!"}

      So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light, O Don Juan of the San Juans, which by
      now is warming up nicely inside your gym bag. And as you lie there, facing
      New Jersey, completely dressed in full sweats with socks on, go ahead and
      try to get some sleep--while you dream up just how in the hell you're going
      to explain all this to the wife.

      {Mis-ter Non-Sex-you-all Co-Ed Room Share-her/Trav-el Com-pang-yunn!}

      Bud Light beer: we don't care where it's made; we just dig their
      commercials.



      ( O_O )



      Yours troubly,

      Rich Limacher
      TheTroubadour@...

      Yankee Folly of the Day:
      How did "Bad Joke Friday" suddenly morph into National Football League
      bookie-betting, spread-sheeting, and odds-making? [Which statement itself
      will have no meaning whatsoever to everyone not on this list!] Sorry. Just
      couldn't resist.
    • Jeffo93y
      Did you have to talk about me in front of everyone? JeffO On Nov 13, 2009, at 12:05 PM, The Troubadour wrote: Bud Light
      Message 2 of 2 , Nov 13, 2009
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        Did you have to talk about me in front of everyone?

        JeffO

        On Nov 13, 2009, at 12:05 PM, "The Troubadour" <thetroubadour@...> wrote:

        Bud Light presents...

        REAL MEN OF GENIUS

        {Real men of geeeeeene-yuss}

        Today we salute you, Mr. Non-Sexual Co-Ed Room Sharer/Travel Companion.

        {Mis-ter "I'llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll only be
        neeeeeeeeeeding floor-space!"}

        Sure, the "call" went out for someone to help share expenses, and you
        gallantly volunteered. Except, of course, that the call went out from a
        woman, a naive young runner who'd never been to that race nor journeyed to
        that part of the country before. So you right away fire back an email
        saying you're practically a native son.

        {"I grewwwwwwww up on those same
        traiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiils!"}

        Motel 6? Super 8? You've spent time in them all, you say. You *know* all
        the proprietors-from-India. "We'll ask for the second-floor corner room,"
        you say. "It has a fold-out sofa-bed already in it." Except, of course,
        for the fact that Covert, Colorado, has NO Motel 6 OR Super 8 and really
        isn't much more than a campground itself.

        {"We'llllllllllllllllllllllllllllll find a playce! Doan-choooo wor-ry!"}

        So despite all predictions to the contrary, Miss Goody Two-Shoes accepts
        your offer and meets you at the airport. You pick her up in your rented SUV
        and there you are! Night before raceday and the only possible room is three
        towns distant on the second floor of Mrs. Haversham's Antique Store/Bed &
        Breakfast. And breakfast, by the way, will be served two hours after your
        ultramarathon has already started.

        {But theeeeeere's NO SO-FA BEDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!}

        Thank Ja for GPS, or you wouldn't even have ever found THAT. And what
        "that" is, is one little room with one queen-size bed and a
        half-bath-with-shower with a door that won't close. But that's not the half
        of it. Miss Goody says she'll sleep in her running clothes and then offers
        your butt one-half of the bed!

        {"But IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII al-ways sleeeeeeeeeeeeeep
        inn-the-buff!"}

        So crack open an ice-cold Bud Light, O Don Juan of the San Juans, which by
        now is warming up nicely inside your gym bag. And as you lie there, facing
        New Jersey, completely dressed in full sweats with socks on, go ahead and
        try to get some sleep--while you dream up just how in the hell you're going
        to explain all this to the wife.

        {Mis-ter Non-Sex-you-all Co-Ed Room Share-her/Trav-el Com-pang-yunn!}

        Bud Light beer: we don't care where it's made; we just dig their
        commercials.

        ( O_O )

        Yours troubly,

        Rich Limacher
        TheTroubadour@...

        Yankee Folly of the Day:
        How did "Bad Joke Friday" suddenly morph into National Football League
        bookie-betting, spread-sheeting, and odds-making? [Which statement itself
        will have no meaning whatsoever to everyone not on this list!] Sorry. Just
        couldn't resist.







        [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
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