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MsGuy issues his final judgement: "[The] centrifugal/centripetal current of ... theorising, whereby notions ... swirl out in widening circles, only to then gurgle back in again, before eventually disappearing up the arses of their originators." It's devine justice that Mr. Self be condemned in his own words. (Wriggle of of that, AS!) (LOL, how the hell did I miss that quote the 1st time around?)

The vast majority of Canadians live within a 100 miles of the U.S. border. Cross-border shopping is a national pastime as American prices are cheaper on many items (because of economies of scale I think). On US holidays many Americans come north. Somewhat less now that are currencies are nearly at par. Many LGBT Americans come north for Pride celebrations in Toronto, Montreal and Vancouver. In 2014 Toronto is hosting World Pride but I hear that hotel rooms are going fast. Christmas and Easter are the same. We have Family Day in February (2nd Monday) in Ontario. Victoria Day in May (a remnant of Canada's colonial past), Canada Day is July 1. The first week in August is just known as a Civic holiday. First Monday in September is Labour Day. October (second Monday) is Thanksgiving. November 11 is Remembrance Day (our Veteran's Day). Some provinces have their own holidays; Saint Jean Baptiste Day in Quebec on June 24.

Personally, I far prefer this to the way it was for a while before (where I was always signed out even though I checked 'remember' so I had to manually sign in whenever I wanted to post or read from where I'd left off. I'm also on Firefox in Win7, btw. Does the site know who you are in a 'private window'?

With an artful dodger like AdamSmith, gang tackling is the surest way to bring him down.

My memories are almost exactly like yours down to the cornbread stuffing and giblet gravy. No fudge pie though. I would like to try that. Otherwise, we differ only in the candied yams. We took our sweet potatoes straight out of the oven, out of their skins and applied plenty of butter. A little salt was optional, especially if you heaped on the butter. My mother is long gone and I don't have the legs to make a Thanksgiving dinner anymore, which i did for years. However, I still make cornbread dressing and pick up a roasted chicken at the supermarket along with some sweet potatoes and cranberry sauce. Not a bad compromise as far as compromises go in senior years.

Garoto = Boy Garota = Girl Garotao = Big Boy. What some people here call my 90 pound dog. Garoto is also the name of a popular chocolate company produced in Vila Velha/Vitoria Espirito Santo Totally friendly. Boy, Puto, Miche and Bicha or Bicha da Rua much, much less friendly and def more insulting

Register now and post on Badoo and Gaydar and you night find someone before you even arrive. Manhunt and Disponivel are more for hookups. YOu never know what might turn up

I had a few people ask about this and thought a video would be the best way to explain this for everyone. This youtube video is not mine but it does show exactly what you need to do in order to show Youtube videos in Invision Forums.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/comedy/comedy-reviews/10454026/Eat-Pray-Laugh-London-Palladium-review.html http://m.newyorker.com/online/blogs/culture/2012/03/farewell-dame-edna.html

I really like red grapefruit. I get a dozen 8 oz. cups at Costco, and eat one each week after draining some of the juice. Yes, I add a bit of sugar.. Yummy! Try it with your toyboy!

It appears we are unanimous on this.

Perhaps you pissed him off or something. My ex-proctologist once told me that dietary fiber was highly overrated, but that was before I found out he was moonlighting as a mortician.

What JKane said!

It depends on your expectations. It also depends on you. I am currently in Brazil on my 113th trip here. Needless to say, I like Brazil a lot. I personally like guys a lot younger than I but I like "butch" guys. If I were into guys that like older guys, I would not have any time left for myself as I would be on a non stop date. I frequently decline dates from younger guys. However, the guys that ask me for a date are usually too effeminate for me. Therefore I stick to the saunas and other places where I can pick and choose the guy I want. Of course, this costs money. On occasion I accompany Brazilian friends to dances that cater to gays. There is no age restrictions at the dances. Believe it or not, there really are younger guys who like older guys. These younger guys are not hustlers and get insulted if you offer them money. The younger guys have zero interest in guys near their own age. Again, these younger guys are usually effeminate. If you are looking to hook up with a younger guy, there are numerous gay saunas where younger guys hunt older guys without expecting money. Again, the younger guy will be the "delicate" or effeminate guy, most of the time. As to needing a guide on your first rip, that depends on you. If you are adventuresome and do not fear new places, you might want to (as was already suggested) find out when other Americans (preferably from this site) will be in Brazil. If you were to "tag along" with some knowledgeable Americans, there is no need for a guide. Just my two cents worth. By the way, enjoy your first trip to Brazil. After you have been to Brazil, I predict that you will likely return again and again and again. Boa viagem!

paperboy, this is now already a topic.... rio in december...... you are violating the rules of this forum. anyway, to bad you are not there in january. we would be a good company for a trip or two....

I had best let MsGuy be the judge of that. Not that I could stop him.

i have been in brazil once, so i am not much of a reference. but i would say, that they expect cash from foreigners. if they are atractive, it can probably be cheaper. be we still talk cash.

Hey! Was that a shot? Swap poem for theorem and get rid of the Almost and you sound like my freshman physics TA.

I believe B&N is no more and has went into the Big Sky where most massage parlors in Thailand go. hehehehe But there is always another great one or a few that seem to have the magic to last forever.

Great report but photo is way too small. hehehe

Glad the Perelman hit the spot. Much more of him at the linked site. Let me try to exit on a grace note... The poem must resist the intelligence Almost successfully. -- Stevens

You were the one who nailed it, MsGuy. Best I did was pile on. My irritation with writers who go out of their way to make their ideas impenetrable goes back fifty years to the books I had to "ingurgitate" during my days as an engineering undergrad. As soon as an academic had come up with the least understandable way to describe a complex phenomenon, he'd set the type, print the book, and make it required reading for one of my core classes. I don't mind someone embroidering their prose for fun, or to put a feeling across, but to do it just to show that he can cobble together a cornucopia of convolution crimps my conviviality. So, AdamSmith, please excuse my popping in precipitously and putting Lucky to sleep. And thanks for the S. J. Perelman. It was a gem! And now I must be going. "I was on a coach trip to the rapturous intersection of medieval chiliasm and . . ." Ooops, let me see that map again.

Happy Thanksgiving to my American neighbours. In Canada we have Thanksgiving in October (don't know why), but possibly because winter comes earlier up here. My family's Thanksgiving meal was a mixture of American (turkey and stuffing,ham), French Canadian (tortiere, i.e. meat pie), and Native Canadian (fried bannock). My parents and most of my siblings are gone, but my sisters and I get together a remember our dearly departed.

I have fond memories of a very similar menu. Baked turkey, cornbread dressing (not stuffing, my mother cringed at the thought of undercooked stuffing), mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green beans and giblet gravy. No pies in the last 20 years, no ones waist would stand for it but fruit salad made with coconut was plenty for a "near" dessert. When my mother got too old to make this meal, I took over and have cooked it for Thanksgiving and Christmas ever since and will do it again this year. However, only my sister and I are left to enjoy it so we will + some family friends. Best regards, RA1

I went there with a garoto once. I think BH is a hidden gem when it comes to hot men and sauna Olympus could be the reason I can never retire. My garoto owned a car and we agreed for a price that would include his services as a guide and whatever else struck my fancy. It was well worth the trip and afterwards he struck my fancy three times before he left my hotel.

Is most of the adult fun to be found in Brazil on a play for pay basis or are a lot of the locals also simply looking for a good time?

Lookin, sometimes you say what I wanted to say but so much better than I ever could that I'm left helpless with tears of joy running down my face.

OK! Conceding defeat. This by way of apology, and to help rinse out the taste of frogs' legs... IS THERE AN OSTEOSYNCHRONDROITRICIAN IN THE HOUSE? S.J. PerelmanLooking back at it now, I see that every afternoon at 4:30 for the past five months I had fallen into an exact routine. First off, I'd tap the dottle from my pipe by knocking it against the hob. I never smoke a pipe, but I like to keep one with a little dottle in it, and an inexpensive hob to tap it against; when you're in the writing game, there are these little accessories you need. Then I'd slip off my worn old green smoking jacket, which I loathe, and start down Lexington Avenue for home. Sometimes, finding myself in my shirtsleeves, I would have to return to my atelier for my jacket and over- coat, but as I say, when you're in the writing game, it's strictly head-in-the-clouds. Now, Lexington Avenue is Lexington Avenue—when you've once seen Blooming- dale's and the Wil-Low Cafeteria, you don't go nostalgic all over as you might for the Avenue de l'Observatoire and the Closerie des Lilas. Anyway, I'd be head down and scudding along under bare poles by the time I reached the block between Fifty-eighth and Fifty-seventh Streets, and my glance into those three shop windows would be purely automatic. First, the highly varnished Schnecken in the bakery; then the bones of a human foot shimmying slowly on a near- mahogany pedestal in the shoestore; and finally the clock set in the heel of a congress gaiter at the bootblack's. By now my shabby old reflexes would tell me it was time to buy an evening paper and bury my head in it. A little whim of my wife's; she liked to dig it up, as a puppy does a bone, while I was sipping my cocktail. Later on I taught her to frisk with a ball of yarn, but to get back to what happened Washington's Birthday. I was hurrying homeward that holiday afternoon pretty much in the groove, humming an aria from "Till Tom Special" and wishing I could play the clarinet like a man named Goodman. Just as it occurred to me that I might drug this individual and torture his secret out of him, I came abreast the window of the shoestore contain- ing the bones of the human foot. My mouth suddenly de- veloped that curious dry feeling when I saw that they were vibrating, as usual, from north to south, every little meta- tarsal working with the blandest contempt for all I hold dear. I pressed my ear against the window and heard the faint clicking of the motor housed in the box beneath. A little scratch here and there on the shellac surface showed where one of the more enterprising toes had tried to do a solo but had quickly rejoined the band. Not only was the entire arch rolling forward and backward in an oily fashion, but it had evolved an obscene side sway at the same time, a good deal like the danse a ventre. Maybe the foot had belonged to an Ouled-Nail girl, but I felt I didn't care to find out. I was aware immediately of an active de- sire to rush home and lie down attended by my loved ones. The only trouble was that when I started to leave the place, I could feel my arches acting according to all the proper orthopedic laws, and I swear people turned to look at me as if they heard a clicking sound. The full deviltry of the thing only became apparent as I lay on my couch a bit later, a vinegar poultice on my forehead, drinking a cup of steaming tea. That little bevy of bones had been oscillating back and forth all through Danzig, Pearl Harbor, and the North African campaign; this very minute it was undulating turgidly, heedless of the fact the store had been closed two hours. Furthermore, if its progress were not impeded by the two wires snaffled to the toes (I'll give you that thought to thrash around with some sleepless night), it might by now have en- circled the world five times, with a stopover at the Eucharistic Congress. For a moment the implications were so shocking that I started up alarmed. But since my loved ones had gone off to the movies and there was no- body to impress, I turned over and slept like a top, with no assistance except three and a half grains of barbital. I could have reached my workshop the next morning by walking up Third Avenue, taking a cab up Lexington, or even crawling on my hands and knees past the shoe- store to avoid that indecent window display, but my feet won their unequal struggle with my brain and carried me straight to the spot. Staring hypnotized at the macabre shuffle (halfway between a rhumba and a soft-shoe step), I realized that I was receiving a sign from above to take the matter in hand. I spent the morning shopping lower Third Avenue, and at noon, dressed as an attache of the Department of Sanitation, began to lounge noncha- lantly before the store. My broom was getting nearer and nearer the window when the manager came out noise- lessly. My ducks must have been too snowy, for he gave one of his clerks a signal and a moment later a police- man turned the corner. Fortunately, I had hidden my civvies in the lobby of Proctor's Fifty-eighth Street Thea- tre, and by the time the breathless policeman rushed in, I had approached the wicket as cool as a cucumber, asked for two cucumbers in the balcony, and signed my name for Bank Nite. I flatter myself that I brought off the affair rather well. My second attempt, however, was as fruitless as the first. I padded my stomach with a pillow, grayed my hair at the temples, and entered the shop fiercely. Pointing to the white piping on my vest, I represented myself as a portly banker from Portland, Maine, and asked the man- ager what he would take for the assets and good will, spot cash. I was about to make him a firm offer when I found myself being escorted out across the sidewalk, the man- ager's foot serving as fulcrum. And there, precisely, the matter rests. I have given plenty of thought to the problem, and there is only one solution. Are there three young men in this city, with stout hearts and no dependents, who know what I mean? We can clean out that window with two well-directed grenades and get away over the rooftops. Given half a break, we'll stop that grisly pas seul ten seconds after we pull out the pins with our teeth. If we're caught, there's always the cyanide in our belts. First meeting tonight at nine in front of the Railroad Men's Y.M.C.A., and wear a blue cornflower. http://archive.org/stream/bestofsjperelma00pere/bestofsjperelma00pere_djvu.txt

I highly recommend the cute buffet waiter. Technical problems have a tendency to work themselves out or time passes and no one cares any longer. Best regards, RA1

There are so many gay massage places in Thailand. They are all over the place. Some are very economical and others are posh and charge prices that I consider to be bordering on expensive. On my most recent trip to Thailand, while in Pattaya (The beach area). I hired a massage guy from Gayromeo. He promised a sensual, not sexual; massage that would have a lot of "nude" body to body contact. During the massage, he paid more attention to the detail of the massage and less attention to the body to body aspect of it. Once the "real massage" was over, the body to body contact began and finished with him giving me a hand-job. It was an ok experience that cost me 1000 baht for his 1 1/2 hours of time. As experiences go, I wish I had not had the orgasm in the session only because I planned to go out and have more sex that night. It's not hard to get lucky in Thailand. The average visitor is spoiled with choice when it comes to finding a sex partner. There are Massage guys everywhere, massage businesses in all the gay areas and in a lot of the non-gay area. There are host bars where you can hire the guys away from the establishment by paying an off fee that ranges from as little as 250 baht to 700 baht. Keep in mind that 1000 baht is about $30 USD. You would also need to tip the guy you are with once the deed is done and that tip depends on what city you are in at the time and where you found your friend. You would tend to tip more if you are in Bangkok and less if you are in Pattaya. This past trip (Oct of 2013). While on the beach I saw a very hot Cambodian massage guy giving a massage to a guy on the beach. I was so into him that I looked for him the following day and got his cell phone number. Later that night I sent him a message asking him what time he stopped doing massage? It was about 11pm. He asked me where I was and I told him I was in Boyztown. (A gay area in Pattaya). He told me to call him when I got back to my hotel. I called him when I was on my way back and we met along the beach and both walked back to my hotel. When we got back to my hotel he shared a joking conversation with the security guards on the ground floor. I don't know what was said as I only speak English. Once the doors closed, he told me that he use to work with them and they told him I was a nice guy and to give me a good massage. Once in the room he told me he was not Thai but was from Cambodia. Somewhere along the way we had agreed to how much I should tip him for the massage which was 1000 baht. (For a non-sexual massage on the beach the cost would be 400 baht). The thing I liked most about this guy was that he was not only handsome and sexy, but also masculine and confident. You could put him in a group of Muay Thai boxers and he would fit right in. Later he told me that he did train to be a boxer but no-longer has the desire to fight. Once we showered, I set the lights and music and prepared the bed for our massage session. I thought I was going to get massaged but once on I stretched out across the bed, he knee-walked himself up to where I was resting my head and started things off by getting a blow-job while reacing over and palming my ass with one hand and his other hand at the back of my head near the top of my neck while whispering words of a language I didn't speak. We went through many sexual positions on the bed with him in the dominant role before we settled into a 69 position before he ripped himself away from me, went to his pants and returned to the bed rolling on a condom, opening a packet of lube with his teeth and spitting away a piece of plastic still in his mouth, lubed-up his condom covered cock and...... Well... Lets just say that the time I spent with him was equal to or better than any porno I have seen to date. We spent several nights together but he spoiled me. When we had sex, it was as if he was reading my mind and knew what to do and when to do it. After him, I felt unsatisfied having sex with others. Oh.. Hey... What were we talking about? This picture does not do him justice, but this is him the 2nd day when I saw him and decided I would get his phone number from him. http://tinypic.com/r/wiat04/5

Cartoon tag line: "TV was so lousy last night, I nearly switched it off!"

11 terrifying kids from vintage adverts who will freeze the very marrow in your bones 1. Aww look at that - she’s thrilled that dinner is a succulent blood-clot on toast 2. This girl doesn’t need cereal - she hungers for your soul 3. Not so much a child, more a 40-year-old Tory/transgenic pig hybrid 4. This murderous moppet should not be allowed a sharpened knife 5. Not appropriate, mister ad-man. Not. Appropriate. 6. “It’s easy to DIE DIE DIE…” 7. Slogan: Pears Soap will turn your baby’s bath time into an unimaginable horror 8. “Dear Mom, I hope you die soon” 9. The first rule of parent club is that you don’t let the baby shave itself 10. There is no reason for this kid to be naked but for a fedora 11. You know what other meat tastes exactly like pork? This kid knows He knows Oh God, he KNOWS http://usvsth3m.com/post/66372953934/11-terrifying-kids-from-vintage-adverts-who-will-freeze

As my mama always said, opinions are like assholes, everyone has one. And, frankly, your constant bullshit is getting tiring even for my ever patient personality. If you don't like something, fine, move on. But, don't be a dick. If you feel the need to be a dick, do it on another forum. Warning from Oz. (I don't think I've ever given on here so you are elite in you are the first that even I have a hard time swallowing)