Conference turris::womannotes-v3

    or:
    
    "The surgeon general has found that there is no connection between
    politically correct words, acts, or writings and wild sex with
    feminists.  That, you've got to earn...."
    
    -Jody

I have been both PC and otherwise (although the former for about 1 hour) and
I have found that *neither* oen helped me to have wild wex with feminist
womannoters.  So much for that theory.

(Any other suggestions? :-)

D!

    Well, I can assure you that starting a charity lay campaign doesn't work
    either.  My MACHO campaign was a dismal failure.  :-)
    
    -- Mike

    But Mike, isn't *social* intercourse enough?!
    
    E Grace             "flutterflutterflutter"....

    re .3, Mike, we told you your problem is that you live too far away! 
    There is a limit to how far you can expect people to travel to dispense
    charity!  :-)
    
    Lorna
    

    So Lorna, are you saying that I should fly out to attend the five year
    anniversary party?  :-)
    
    -- Mike

             <<< Note 356.7 by TUBORG::M_VALENZA "Born to note." >>>

    >>So Lorna, are you saying that I should fly out to attend the five year
    >>anniversary party?  :-)
    
    >>-- Mike
    
    
    Well, I'm not Lorna (for which she is probably eternally grateful, for 
    that would mean that she was not herself!), but, might I answer?
    
    yesyesyesyesYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES
    
    If you would like to, why not?
    
    E Grace

    A PC Cowgirl tale.
    Any resemblence to womannoters is purely coincidental.  :^)
    
    *************************************************************
    
    We were hanging around the bunkhouse at the Rubber Rose Ranch
    watching the full moon rise when Jellybean suggested that we
    go out to try and catch wild sex.

    It didn't take much debate at all and hardly any time before
    we were all saddled up and ready to ride.  

    Jellybean wore her favorite boots -- the ones with a tooled
    pattern of roses climbing up her legs.  She also had on her
    fringed skirt and vest and her favorite musk perfume. The
    lasso she was planning to use was made of soft cotton rope.

    Liesl and Sandy were both carrying magnums of champagne to
    lure wild sex closer to us so maybe we could finally catch
    it. D! had a box of chocolates and the phone number of a
    pizza place that delivers anywhere for afterward. 

    Maggie brought her banjo saying that maybe wild sex liked to
    listen to Bach or maybe ballads and that music might calm
    wild sex enough to be caught without taming it.

    Lorna wore most of her jewelry and shined like the Queen of
    Sheba and the northern lights all rolled into one. We joked
    that if wild sex was a raven it would carry her away to its
    nest and never let her go.

    Me, I'd just washed my hair and was letting it dry in the
    moonlight.  It looked pretty.

    We rode into the night talking softly and listening to the
    coyotes singing songs about wild sex. The horses were full of
    energy and we moved at a good fast trot over the milky-light
    filled prairie.  

    We rode for hours.  Finally we were riding slowly and
    realized we were all caught up in the mystery of night and
    moonlight and had been silent for a long time.  So we
    stopped. Liesl said as how we'd been riding hours and hours
    and hadn't seen any wild sex at all. In the stillness we
    could hear the champagne sizzling like rattle snakes in its
    bottles.  Maggie claimed she could smell the chocolate.

    Nothing for it but to make camp. So we found a pretty place
    near a small, deep stream with a lovely bent up old cotton-
    wood tree and some grass for the horses.  It was a warm night
    for September on the prairie so most of us took a swim to
    freshen up and then we built a fire.

    Didn't take long to open the champagne and chocolates. 
    Hunting in our saddle bags we found some twinkies, Dr.
    Peppers, a few tins of truffles, a bit of pat� avec
    champignons, two bags of cheese popcorn and lots of teddy
    grahams.  Enough for a feast.  

    When all the food was gone and the fire had burnt itself into
    a warming glow we settled back and listened to Maggie play
    "Star of the County Down" on her banjo. When she was finished
    we realized how quiet it was. The prairie was hushed for
    miles around and we could feel the magic rising along the
    hairs on the backs of our necks.

    There! Just where the edge of the setting moon kissed the
    horizon was wild sex! It was so beautiful, so free and wild
    looking with the new-risen wind making streamers of its hair.
    We could hear its blood-warming call, a cry somewhere between
    a wolf and a rock star, echoing off the far hills and back
    again.

    No one thought of the lasso or the French perfume.  No one
    thought of the empty champagne bottles or the lilt of
    Maggie's banjo. No one thought of how far away wild sex was
    and how we'd never catch it no matter how hard we rode.  All
    we could think was how beautiful wild sex was standing tall
    and proud in the moonlight.

    We watched wild sex until it was a spot on the horizon and
    then we watched some more.  We didn't give up watching until
    the sun rose.

    We were quiet riding back to the Rubber Rose Ranch. Will we
    ride out again at the next full moon? I don't know.  But
    Jellybean has been looking at maps and doing math.  She says
    she's found just where the moon and the horizon will touch
    next month.  Says she plans to be there with her lasso.

    Next month is the harvest moon. I can't wait to see what she
    gathers into her barn.  
           
    :^)

    Speaking for myself I like the idea of co-opting the PC/get laid
    concept. I believe it was originally used as a put down against certain
    men in the conference. To take it back and make it joke shows how
    stupid it is.

    When I read the first comments on it I thought how typical of some men.
    If other men don't buy their party line and tend to agree with the
    women they are p*ssy whipped or copping out for sex. It couldn't be
    that they had made a rational decision to support us. liesl

    Spoiler warning for those who want to read "The gate to women's
    country"
    

    Remember in the story about how the women tricked the macho soldier
    types into thinking they had fathered the children when it fact it was
    the men they laughed at as weaklings that had that honor?

    Well, E, that sounds pretty convincing.  At least at the party I can
    engage in some *social* intercourse.  :-)
    
    Now if you will be in a play at the time, I'll be expecting some front
    row tickets.  :-)
    
    -- Mike

    re:.9 I *love* it! liesl

    
    
    re .9
    
    Margaret, if you hadn't used names of actual womannoters, I would
    have expected a different ending to your story.
    
    Don't mind me, though, I'm the only person I know who loves Jane
    Austen novels but would love to rewrite some of the endings... just
    once.
    
    Justine

    re: .9
    
    DIET Dr. Pepper?!  Oh, can I come?  PleasePleasePlease?
    Quaker girls like moonlight too!
    
    E Grace

    re .9, that's a cute story, Margaret.  Sure, we may as well ride out
    again next month!  What the hell.  :-)
    
    Actually, I'm not at all sure that "wild sex" is as elusive as that! 
    It's "love" that seems to be forever out of reach, in my experience.
    "Wild sex" is a little more easy to catch. ;^)
    
    Lorna
    

It's probably not PC to point this out, but as I've mentioned before, there is
no "." in "Dr Pepper".

    Well, my heavans.  You're right!  I just looked at the can on my desk,
    and there *is* no "." in "Dr Pepper".  You would think that with my
    first name, I would have noticed that!
    
    E (no ".") Grace

    re: .9
    
    were you close enough to see what color eyes "wild sex" had?  
    
    jonathan (who usually can't remember full-moon nights)
    

    re: .0

    Data point: edp is his usual grouchy, whiny self at the lunch-time
    Grand Uno game which probably indicates he's not gettin' any.  But you
    didn't say anything about (non-PC)�, did you?

    - M
     
    ps - Is this PC?  Forget it, my wife notes and owns guns.

    .20 should be taken as joking amongst friends and poking fun at the
    idea that pc or non-pc should make any differnce wrt the rumor
    mentioned in .0.  Grand Uno players are often grouchy and whiny, myself
    included.  My wife does own guns, though.
    
    - M