On Sat, 11 Sep 2004 04:34:57 GMT, Alex Chaihorsky wrote:

> Derek -
>
> Where is your celtic soul? To give a woman the wine of your thoughts, lust
> and passion, to make her drunk with your voice and have her nostrils long
> for the scent of your breath - and you are willing to give ot all up and
> just get her shit-faced with vodka? And then have her lump, poisoned,
> falling apart tissue-wrapped skeleton answer your lust with... What?

My celtic soul is right next to my celtic ankle....oh, wait. That's "sole."

Actually, I wooed my wife with tea seasoned with the tiny mirabelle plum
from France. It worked much better than any booze ever could have.

As for longing for the sent of my breath - that depends on what I last ate.


--
Derek

No single raindrop believes it is to blame for the flood.