I remember one me and Xen and Andy and possibly others did, I got banned for a bit over it. Since this happened around the time of the 'milko imposters' it was quite amusingly hard trying to convince anyone I was me under a new ID. Ah, what a thread though. And it'd been done at least twice before as well.
Hmm. How do we know that this /is/ the real you? Allwe have is your word for it.
The Seventh Posture of Burton's translation of The Perfumed Garden is an unusual position not described in other classical sex manuals. The receiving partner lies on their side. The penetrating partner faces the receiver, straddling the receiver's lower leg, and lifts the receiver's upper leg on either side of the body onto the crook of penetrating partner's elbow or onto the shoulder. While some references describe this position as being "for acrobats and not to be taken seriously," others have found it very comfortable, especially during pregnancy.
Good one Yve. I went all political on their basket-woven arses:
quote:
Craft matters to me - but the Crafts Council took a philosophically and tactically indefensible decision years back when it chose to nail all its colours to the mast of a contemporary art-inspired model of avant gardism.
If the Crafts Council wishes to survive (and in so doing, support the craft pathfinders) it should look to the Japanese model of a balanced approach that enshrines and celebritises masters of traditional craft forms, whilst playing the avant garde against them.
It's not a particularly taxing concept: It's a spurious Coke Vs. Pepsi deathmatch, with the avant garde defended by the young and self-consciously trendy and the traditional by the older and crustier. It doesn't matter a damn who is higher in the ratings; what matters is that the Craft Council annexes both camps. Once it holds that position it doesn't have to defend the one against the other: it owns both.
"We all have flaws, and mine is being wicked." James Thurber, The Thirteen Clocks 1951
You have so fucking owned the CC, they just gotta capitulate. Those fucking basket weavers and lino cutters won't know what hit 'em when you get the guns of the Battleship Potterykiln trained on their arses.
