Normal things 
Sexual Obsessive Compulsive Disorderā¦
Kris, ummmmmm.
Never mind.
Now, see, I list several things Iām going to do while on holiday, and only the sex gets any attention.
Yeah, Kris, I got laid. Okay? Yeah, I knew I would. I suppose now, that no one want to hear about anything else. I have ruined my own narrative by spilling (hang on!) the only part that anyone cares about.
Perverts.
Iām back
Iām back in the saddle again
Iām back
Iām back in the saddle again
Ridinā into town alone by the light of the moon
Iām lookinā for old Sukie Jones she crazy horse saloon
Barkeep gimme a drink thatās when she caught my eye
She turned to give me a wink that make a grown man cry
Iām back in the saddle again
Iām back
Iām back in the saddle again
Iām back
Come easy, go easy, all right ātill the rising sun
Iām calling all the shots tonight Iām like a loaded gun
Peelinā off my boots and chaps Iām saddle sore
Four bits gets you time in the racks I scream for more
Foolsā gold out of their mines the girls are soaking wet
No tongueās drier than mine Iāll come when I get back
Iām back in the saddle again
Iām back
Iām back in the saddle again
Iām ridinā, Iām loadinā up my pistol
Iām ridinā, I really got a fistful
Iām ridinā, Iām shininā up my saddle
Iām ridinā, this snake is gonna rattle
Iām back in the saddle again
Iām back
Iām back in the saddle again
Iām back
Ridinā high
Ridinā high
Ridinā high
Already
See I told a sane intelligent woman would see you! And that is Mrs. Pervert, thank you! I could go with the old school saying; It takes one to know one!
I would love to hear about the rest of your vactaion, I am not that perverted, just mildly twisted. 
So faust, when are you taking this vacation? Because your posts on this board indicate that you were only gone for 24 hours. I think
Well, screw it. Iām filing my report, anyway.
Yesterday -
Arrived at about twelve-thirty and met my friend, who I will call āDaveā in the hotel parking lot.
JUST kidding.
Iāll call her Sally.
The hotel is a couple of miles out of town, and one we have stayed in before. I twist up a fatty, and as we canāt check in for a couple of hours, we roll onto Newburyport (pronounced ānewbreepawtā, and quickly).
At the Grog, we have lunch. As it is still early in the day, Sally has a bloody mary, and I a Sam Adams draft (thatās the one I had for you, Mr P.). Then, each a glass of chardonnay. Maybe another. Oh, and two completely acceptable cheesburgers.
We leave to find a Newburyport T-shirt - a mission we easily accomplish, at a local five-and-dime type of store. Then, we stop into the Thirsty Whale, I for a robust shot of Bushmills, Sally for an equally hearty shot of tequila. Thusly fortified, we went on our way. Some general window shopping and poking around leads us to the Hog On Ice Gallery, where I buy a painting by Bren Bataclan - which google, if you wish.
Last thing I wanted was to buy something to lug to Florida, but you buy the art you have to have, and I had to have it. Probably would have even if sober, which I practically was.
We retire to the hotel, to check in, and to dress for dinner. On the way, we stop at Learyās liquor store, purchasing what turned out to be an excruciatingly ordinary California Pinot Noir, a bottle of Vinho Verde, and some South African chardonnay, the latter two as emergency backups for the end of the night (Kris, Iām confident but not stupid.) At the hotel, we drink the red, or what Sally didnāt spill of it. Check out the awesome Scotchguard on the carpet! I love Marriots. I change my clothes, ice the chard and we head back to town. It was a non-smoking room - the hotel had just instituted a āsmoke-freeā policy. Much as I love Marriots, that place is toast, as far as I am concerned.
At Somebodyās Harborside (I canāt remember whoās) we go upstairs to the pub, which seems to be hosting some sort of Tee-ball banquet - little kids sliding around the dancefloor on their socks, with pizza in their hands and on their shirts. Nice view of the mouth of the Merrimack River, though, in a warmish, gentle rain. I sip Jamesonās and some unfiltered draft beer that I chose because I liked the tap handle, the name of which I may never have known but in any case I cannot recall, while Sally woofs a couple of dirty Grey Goose martinis, up with olives.
Kris, are you getting the picture, yet?
Sally decides itās time for dinner, which I took to be a medical decision. We go to Ten Center Street, and sit at their cozy bar, drinking an entirely pedestrian South African chardonnay. Iām not really a chardonnay guy, but I am a team player, and do occasionally find one that I like. This one tased like spring water, which was okay.
Presently, we are seated, and switch to a sparkling white. We order an antipasto, two caesar slads, (Sally) the seared tuna, which she ate but didnāt taste, I am quite sure (and could barely remember the next day) and I had the blackened catfish. One more sparkler for Sally, and a Granmarnier for me, and we were done. We returned to the hotel, and screwed like animals until we passed out.
More later.
Ok, you preverts!! So faust, Iāll assume you had an enjoyable time doing whatever. But to get being pooched into a decent perspective, Did you both enjoy each others ompany? Were you tender and loving? Were you more concerned about giving than getting? NO answers please! I just thought Iād try to get the issue into one of emotion as opposed to discussing buying a new Ipod.
It was pretty much just drunken mammal sex, but I did get some high marks for ākindnessā and āunselfishnessā.
Males will, of course, translate both of those words into āsound techniqueā.
Of course they will. Must maintain the facadesā¦
faust:
Sally:
4ever
candy is dandy,but liquor is quicker or in your case expensive? Damn Faust, see I would have saved you money. 8 beers at the most and I am toast. Supper at a greasy spoon and I am happy. Go for the beer broads, we have a clean clear sense of humor and honesty. We are earthy and trusting. And very vindictive should, well I am sure you can imagine
Although, It sounds like you had a lovely and elegant evening, you are a very nice escort.
jeez, I came into this post hoping for a detailed
sex description (hay, Iām married and donāt remember
sex anymore)but instead I get a
michelin guide to restaurants. Jeez, am I
disappointed.
Kropotkin
Today - It is supposed to rain hard all day, so we decide to go to Portsmouth, New Hampshire, twenty minutes up the highway. It appears that everyone else in the hotel had a bicycle, and wore special bicycle clothes. You know, that clingy, lycra stuff. Absolutely none of them had the kind of body I like to see in that particular garb, especially with a bit of a hangover. I take several trips in the elevator, to get coffee, to smoke, to throw stuff in the car. All accompanied by at least one bicyclist and their bicycle.
We drive seperately, as we are going in opposite directions at the end of the day. We park outside a store that sells kitchen gadgets, jewelry, wine and clothing. I find the best wine key I have ever seen, for twenty dollars, which is also the most I have ever spent for one. But itās a work of art. The lever is attached with small phillips-head screws - not rivets, that get loose and cannot be tightned. The handle is straightish, with only a slight, ergonomic curve. Plastic, but nice, dense plastic. Long worm, coated black, like my last Gerber folder. Excellent blade - properly curved and fairly aggressively serrated. Feels good in the hand, like a Glock niner. Heavy, but not cumbersome. A real sharp unit. My day is made. This baby will take out the tightest pinot grigio cork in one quick twist-and-pull. A real stopper stopper. A corkscrew of high calibre. Itās killer.
We shop, as I keep my eyes open for the obligatory jewelry purchase (Kris?). Iām not seeing much that I like. Or that she does. I like to do amethystes, but this whole town seems to have none.
[Iām out of smokes and I need a refresher-buzz. Back later.]
Was this a joke, or is this what mammal sex has come to? This question is for research only - Hey, I have been with the same man since '69, so I wouldnāt know how things have evolved with you youngsters.
One suspects that if faust had existed in prehistoric times, heād have been the one who invented the first plastic cups, and string. And then spent most of his time trying to network-up the various hunter-gatherer tribes in his area. Finally after clubbing the headmen of the tribes into compliance, teaching them all to string-speak, and carry little chipped-flint avatars at all times - Heād have busily chatted away about such contentious things as:
Wooley-mammoths - Do they still existā¦?
What colour my shit was today.
Ugh-Association Thread.
And other such gems.
Faust.
Slow down.
Life doesnāt actually disappear when it fails to get typed down. Thatās falling trees or something.
never mind this rot down hereā¦
good show man!
hedonists of the world are sorely underratedā¦
-Imp
hmhmhmhmh
I dunno, manā¦
Everyone has their own tastses.
IMO, it soundedā¦ wellā¦ consumeristic?
See, now I can only guess, but faust says they screwed antil they passed out. And I had to guess, that they used up so much strength wondering around, and consuming so much ethanol, that they didnāt have all that much left for the bedroom.
So it sounded like a binge, not really love?
I wonderā¦