On being a 12 year-old boy…

Last week, i was immersed in the sunshine of the south, while indulging in some much needed ‘down time’.  But despite the strong “R&R” overtones, i was also on this trip to perform some small measure of business activities.  Which i attempted to do.

One of my responsibilities at the workshop was to chair a technical session.  Not particularly hard work.  The job requires introducing the session, introducing the speakers, and then holding them to their allotted time.  Upon completion of the presentation, the session chair also moderates a short question and answer session. 

Not rocket surgery by any stretch.

Also in attendance for the workshop?  My posse of Dawg Boyz.  We are known for some raucous “drinkin’ and whorin'” sessions, not to mention a full measure of childish stupidity.  One of our favorite games is “Would you do X?” – in reference to some other workshop attendee.  Can be male, female, or some indeterminate combination, given the huge ‘geek factor’ of our community.

By early in the workshop, we were all in complete agreement about one participant – Dr. S was looking mighty fine!  Not only was she looking particularly hot, she is a charming woman, very good at what she does, and has a smile that will melt high temperature ceramic compounds.  Originally from Germany, she speaks perfect english with a bit of an accent.  We were all smitten – and consensus dictated that she would be particularly effective as a dominatrix.

Needless to say, Dr. S was giving her presentation during my session.  Shortly after she started, i got a message on my blackberry from Dawg Boy #1, known as “Titan of Industry”.

ToI:  She wants to dominate you!  Submit!

daisyfae:  i’d submit in a nanosecond. She can improve my stability anytime. [‘stability’ in reference to the content of her presentation]

ToI:   She said “tightly bound”!  Heh,heh, heh! [“tightly bound” in reference to some electrons she was attempting to photograph or something]

daisyfae:   Gag me with rhodium…. She’s all about the vibrations. [“rhodium” and “vibration” were also part of her talk – i really can’t remember why]

ToI:   With the push of one button….  A whole chain of additional structures grows out of the excitement.  I almost spooged my pants! [She referenced this stuff too.  Clearly i need to pay more attention when i’m chairing a session.]

daisyfae:  She wants me to take off with her…  Fly me, you Teutonic Titwillow!  [She made an airline reference – something about “Put up ze tray table, and hang on, because ve’re off to even greater heights!”]

ToI:  She wants to strap on her geschaften and schluct your schleimfliesch.

daisyfae [shaking with stifled laughter]:  you win.

36 thoughts on “On being a 12 year-old boy…

  1. Do you know that I’ve played “Would you do X?” in my head, to myself, for AGES and thought that, not only was I the only one engaged in this activity, but that I actually might have invented it?!

    There’s always a party going on inside my head. Sometimes, it’s just for me!

    • you didn’t invent it. old as man, honey… cro magnon man sat around the campfire talking about various female cave dwellers. it’s biology. give yourself over to it…

  2. You guys are funny – I take it your IT department doesn’t monitor your blackberry/email stuff – It’s nice to see some place that doesn’t permit paranoia. FTW!
    Your office and conference mates sound a LOT more entertaining than mine. Particularly Dr. S.

    • oh, our IT dept tracks EVERYTHING. i simply stopped giving a shit years ago! suspect that i’m one of their favorites to ‘follow’. the subset of conference mates that i hang with are beyond delightful! some of my BFF’s for sure!

    • welcome to the park, tim! agree that this is a common game – when we discuss it, though, we go through specifics of “would you have to be drunk? what if no one ever knew about it?” all the way to “i’d do him on the floor, right there, with all y’all WATCHING!”. that latter designator? supreme hotness!

  3. I LOVE ‘who’d ya do?’ One night a bunch of us were out in a bar and we were playing “Who’d ya do”, the game progressed from mere mortals walking in, to choices between Hillary Clinton or Margaret Thatcher or Rush Limbaugh or Glen Beck. Later we thought it prudent to offer becoming a nun, priest or death as an option.

    • oh, yeah! that’s the extreme sport variety of “who’d ya RATHER do?” We play that but without the ‘mercy’ caveat… but participants are allowed to offer up “i’d rather…” options for entertainment purposes. once had a guy say he’d rather be raped by smelly, diseased vikings on a bed of glass than sleep with one of my colleagues at work. powerful stuff, this…

  4. omg..pee’d laughing..it’s like my monday morning coffee break with my buddy as he brings me up to speed on his weekend in gaydom

  5. What fun you kids have!

    I guess I must be nearing death. I never play that game any more. The person I’d rather “do” lives with me. and in my line of work it just doesn’t “do” to think about “doing” the people on the table. Not if you want to stay in the line of work, anyway. I guess I trained myself out of the mental game.

    Then again, I’m never at a boring conference that needs lightening up.

      • Pretty much have to if you want to keep your job – The real issue is that once you start having those fantasies it is all too easy to slip into action; a warm, cozy room with a comfortable surface and naked people?

        In south Carolina they have a law that you cannot have sex with someone that you gave a massage to within a year of the service. One gal met a guy and they mutually liked each other. she terminated his client status, and after a few weeks they began to date. They found themselves in love and got married. She was prosecuted, fined and JAILED because she had sex with this man (HER HUSBAND) within a year of giving him a massage.

        That kind of ridiculousness is why we therapists tend to become extremely non-sexual even in our thoughts (although I’m pretty sure there are not thought police — yet), and that carries over into the rest of our lives too, I suppose.

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