Jim, Jodi, and Sharon are real people, their last names have been withheld.

> Date: 5/27/94 10:02 AM
> To: Jim
> From: Jodi
> If you plan to attend Sharons luncheon, please let me
> know your selection by Tuesday, June 7 ($10/person). The choices
> are:
>
> –Broiled Sole Fillets-lightly seasoned or stuffed and served with
> rice pilaf
> –Popcorm Shrimp-bite sized breaded shrimp served with a baked
> potato
> –Grilled Chicken Breast-marinated boneless chicken breast served
> with rice pilaf
> OR
> –Chicken Fresco-baked chicken tenderloins & vegatables all in a
> light garlic & parmesan cheese sauce, served over linguini with
> fresh brocolli
>
> Thanks! Jodi

Dear Jodi,

Thank you for arranging this luncheon for Sharon. Im deciding what
to order, and I have a question.

What about us carnivores? I want meat. Red raw meat. I want them
to lead it in on a rope and I want it to moo when I bite into it. I
dont want anybody I know to see me eating rice pilaf or chicken
Fresco. In fact I dont want anybody who knows anybody I know to
see me doing so. I want a dignified American meal of steak and
potatoes by God, served with flagons of blood-red wine. I want
Hungarian red wine, with a picture of a cow on the label. I want to
think about Eastern Europeans making this wine for slave wages and
making it badly. I want the whole bottle. I want several. I want it
served on a white tablecloth and I want that tablecloth to be so
soiled when were done that it cant even be used for rags. I want a
meal to remember, in the midst of bawdy company. I want someone
to tell off-color jokes and I want us all to laugh till we cry. I want
some of us to discover that the person weve mumbled at as weve
passed in the halls these last 5 years is a sexual rogue. I want several
people to fail to return to work afterward. I want to see a
disciplinary memo sent down from the directors office in the wake
of all this. I want the restaurant to refuse to serve anyone from the
Lab for the next two years. I want to generate gossip. I want media
coverage. I want arrests. I want some careers to be launched and
others destroyed. I want this luncheon to divide time into a before
and an after. Despite her acute embarrassment at all this, I want
Sharon to change her mind and stay.

Thats what I REALLY want. I just KNOW youre going to tell me I
cant have it. So Ill get back to you with my food order.

You are an Internet Addict when…



1.) You refer to going to the bathroom as downloading.



2.) You step out of your room and realize that your parents have moved and you dont have a clue as to when it happened.



3.) Your bookmark takes 15 minutes to go from top to bottom.



4.) Your nightmares are in HTML and GIFS.



5.) You turn off your modem and get this awful empty feeling, like you just pulled the plug on a loved one.



6.) You start introducing yourself as Jim at net dot com



7.) Your heart races faster and beats irregularly each time you see a new WWW site address on TV.



8.) You turn on your intercom when leaving the room so you can hear if new e-mail arrives.



9.) Your wife drapes a blond wig over your monitor to remind you of what she looks like.



10.) All of your friends have an @ in their names.



11.) When looking at a web page full of someone elses links, you notice all of them are already highlighted in purple.



12.) Your dog has its own home page.



13.) You cant call your mother… She doesnt have a modem.



14.) You check your mail. It says no new messages. So you check it again.



15.) Your phone bill is a heavy as a brick.



16.) You write your homework in HTML and give your instructor the URL.



17.) You dont know the sex of three of your closest friends, because they have neutral nicknames and you never bothered to ask.



18.) Your husband tells you that he has had the beard for 2 months.



19.) You wake up at 3 a.m. to go to the bathroom and stop and check your e-mail on the way back to bed.



20.) You tell the kids they cant use the computer because Daddys got work to do — even though you dont have a job.



21.) You buy a Captain Kirk chair with a built-in keyboard and mouse.



22.) Your wife makes a new rule: The computer cannot come to bed.



23.) You get a tattoo that says This body best viewed with Netscape 3.0 or higher.



24.) You never have to deal with busy signals when calling your ISP… because you never log off.



25.) The last girl you picked up was only a GIF.



26.) You ask a plumber how much it would cost to replace the chair in front of your computer with a toilet.



27.) Your wife says communication is important in a marriage… so you buy another computer and install a second phone line so the two of you can chat.



28.) As your car crashes through the guardrail on a mountain road, your first instinct is to search for the back button.

(To the tune of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious)

(Chorus)

To boldly go where none has gone, that is the task before us.

Even though the major networks seem to have ignored us.

Weve been around for quite a while, and all the fans adore us.

I wish wed get a decent script, the novelty will floor us.

um-diddle-iddle-iddle um-diddle-la

um-diddle-iddle-iddle um-diddle-la

The first rule taught at Star Fleet is that we dont interfere

Because well warp new cultures, and well get them hooked on beer.

We know how to get round this rule, wherever we may go.

Cause we auction off the broadcast rights for all repeats they show.

(Chorus)

The second rule at Star Fleet is that you should be above

The feelings when a sexy alien wants to make love.

Of course there exceptions, like the Cap and Number One.

Cause we all know sex assures that high ratings will be won.

(Chorus)

The third rule taught at Star Fleet is that violence doesnt win

And if you should destroy life forms, you made a mortal sin.

But that wont stop us from revenge on those who are the worst

Well beam off ol Luxwanna, with her molecules dispersed.

(Chorus)

Im now a captain of my own and now I understand

That rules that have been carved in stone and lies go hand in hand

Ive broke the rules a thousand times, I feel like such a jerk

But Ill never break the record of the famous James T. Kirk

(Chorus)

(fade)

There was this little boy about 10 years old walking down the sidewalk
dragging a flattened frog on a string behind him. He walked up to a
house of ill repute and knocked on the door. When the Madam answered it,
she saw the little boy and asked what he wanted. He said, I want to
have sex with one of the women inside. I have the money and Im not
leaving until I do.

The Madam figured, why not, so she told him to come in. Once in, she
told him to pick any of the girls he liked.

He asked, Do any of the girls have any diseases?

Of course, the Madam said no.

He said, I heard all the men talking about having to get shots after
making it with Amber. THATS the girl I want!

Since the little boy was so adamant and had the money to pay for it, the
Madam told him to go to the first room on the right. He headed down the
hall dragging the squashed frog behind him.

Ten minutes later he came back, still dragging the frog, paid the Madam,
and headed out the door. The Madam stopped him and asked, Why did you
pick the only girl in the place with a disease, instead of one of the
others?

He said, Well, if you must know, tonight when I get home, my parents
are going out to a restaurant to eat, leaving me at home with my
baby-sitter. After they leave, my baby-sitter will have sex with me
because she just happens to be very fond of little boys. She will get
the disease that I just caught. When Mom and Dad get back, Dad will take
the baby-sitter home. On the way, hell jump the baby-sitters bones,
and hell catch the disease.

Then when Dad gets home from the baby-sitters, he and Mom will go to bed
and have sex, and Mom will catch it. In the morning when Dad goes to
work, the Milkman will deliver the milk, have a quickie with Mom and
catch the disease, and HES the son-of-a-bitch who ran over my FROG!

Did you here about the gay midget? He finally came out of the cabinet.

Q. What do a dildo and soy beans have in common?
A. They are both used as substitute meat.

A good looking girl decided to have sex with this really handsome guy.

They took off their clothes and she noticed he had numerous tattoos on his body. They were brand names like Reebok, Nike, etc.

However, on his penis she saw Aids and she was starting to get really turned off when he said, Cool it … youll soon see it actually says Adidas!

Men have been hearing for decades that they are lousy lovers. Its a
given thing in this culture. If we believe what women have been telling
us, it seems that todays males are hasty, inconsiderate, ignorant,
confused, and uncaring.

Men are supposedly limp-dicked premature ejaculators with no sense of
timing or communication. But the truth of the matter is that women
contribute as much to our cultures sexual malaise as men do. Lets
consider the classes of lousy lovers among women:

The Otherwise Engaged: If she were on a frequent
flier plan, it would take her ten years to earn a trip from Heathrow to
Aberdeen. To live with her is to not know her. Not tonight, I have a
headache has become Not this year, I have a career. In this
relationship, the hand you hold will probably be your own, but dont be
embarrassed by that. Rejection and lack of interest are general all over
this workaholic culture. You think youre the Lone Ranger because youre
living with an Infrequent Flier? Then who are all those other masked men
out there?

The Cliff Dweller: She lives on the edge of
everything, especially the extended orgasm. It is always just around the
corner, but the corner is forever disappearing into the distance.
Superman might be able to satisfy her, but its 60/40 hell finally give
up and take a nap. Be assured that when he awakes, hell hear about how
inconsiderate he was.

The Sperm Hater: This woman has a basic fear of our
precious bodily fluids. She treats the male orgasm as if it were an
explosion at a nuclear powerstation. She scrambles away, a distasteful
expression on her face, as you lie there like a beached whale. By her
standards, sperm is radioactive poison and should never be deposited on
skin, sheets, or clothing. She is also the Fastest Douche in the West.

The Statistician: You can spot her by the tape
measure she keeps under thepillow and the pencil marks on her wall.
Shes a combination C.P.A., historian, and Official Scorer. Her brain is
one big computer printout, and if you ask her, shell reel off numbers and
measurements that boggle your mind: how your rate compared with other
lovers in terms of genital heft, number of orgasms (hers, then yours),
errors committed, times you were too base and runs batted in. Her
accounting will be accurate, impersonal, and cold. Only her eyes will
glow as she quantifies love.

The Electrician: Yes, you guessed it; the Electrician
is sister to the Statistician. Indeed, they may be one and the same
person. The Electrician punches data into her computer keyboard while
your lovemaking progresses, but it will be difficult for you to see that
as you struggle to keep your headphones from becoming entangled with hers
and as you sort out the vibrators that she keeps in a batrack by her bed.
On average, she will have two videotape machines running, one to record
your activities, the other to play back an X-rated movie for the
television monitor on her ceiling. Dont feel dehumanized by the
stockmarket ticker she has on her wall. And, yes, it can be
disconcerting when the Electrician carries on telephone conversations
from one of six phones she has on her headboard while you are huffing and
puffing away.

The Aerobic Lover: Isnt she something? Will her
activity ever cease? Why does your back hurt? Why are you dehydrated?
Why are you wondering if youll have a coronary and shell never even
notice? Is it fair that she can go for four hours straight and never
even stop for breath? Why does she wear her aerobic dance shoes to bed?
Lucozade instead of champagne. Only one change of sweatbands allowed.
Mirrors all over, even the floor. Bolero is too slow for her. What
are those yelping sounds she makes at odd moments? Why does she confuse
you with her aerobics instructor? Why does she have a hotline to her own
team of paramedics? Why are they leaning over you and giving you oxygen?
Why is she still bouncing on the bed?

The Screecher: This one is sneaky and mean. There is
no known way to spot her beforehand, either. You just have to place you
bets and then go for broke.Its a sweet moment. Youre making love with
a warm and wonderful woman, and if the truth were known, this is how
youd like to make your living. You wait for her; you hold yourself in;
you administer and placateand excite. Then, as you feel her rhythms
rise, your own pleasure approaches; and as she rides into her sunset, you
take a deep breath and…your ears; what is happening to your ears? You
have never heard a sound like that before. Is it nuclear war? Is there
a jet engine in the room? There is this unearthly screeching going on,
and there is no distance between you and the screeching. She has your
head in a vise, and her mouth has just swallowed your eardrums. They are
somewhere slightly above her voice box, and they are now hers forever,
because you will never hear again, not a sound, not even the whimper of a
child. The Screecher has claimed another victim.

A man went to see a psychiatrist because he was having severe problems with his
sex life. The psychiatrist asked him a lot of questions, but didnt seem to be
getting a clear picture of his problems.

Finally he asked, Do you ever watch your girlfriends face while youre having
sex?

Well, yes, I did once.

Well, how did she look?

Oh boy… she looked very angry!

At this point the psychiatrist felt that he was really getting somewhere and he
said, Well thats very interesting, we must look into this further. Now tell
me, you say that you have only seen your girlfriends face once during sex. That
seems somewhat unusual to me. How did it occur that you saw her face that time?

She was watching us through the window!

A man and his wife of more than 50 years were rocking back and forth on the front porch. Slowly they rocked in rhythm, as this was their time to spend a few quiet moments and after years of practice they rocked to the same pace.

Suddenly the wife stopped, grabbed her cane, and with a loud and hard WHACK hit her husband across the shins.

His eyes watered and tears ran down his cheeks. When he finally caught his breath he gasped and asked, Whatd you do that fer?

Thats fer fifty years of bad sex, she said.

He nodded his head, but said nothing. Slowly they began to rock again. Again they kept pace. Back and forth, back and forth they rocked, until suddenly the man stopped, and picked up his cane. He reached over and with a loud, sharp WHACK, he hit his wife across the shins.

As soon as her eyes quit watering and she could speak she asked, What was that fer?

That, said her husband as he began to rock again, is fer knowin the difference!