Paul B, I would believe it in a heartbeat — used to teach in similar gigs at Deakin. Come the 9 am start you could always tell immediately who’d had 8 hours’ sleep and who’d been having a more interesting time.

Literary geeks probably don’t get even the occasional root.

Shows how much you know.

At it like weasels, every one.

No, she didn’t look like Angelina at all. She was American, but other than that….nope.

[/sarcasm]

If you geeks didn’t have your noses in books congratulating yourselves for being so clever, you might get more than the occasional root.

Thanks for the offer John Hooper, but I’m already spoken for.

However, if anybody else would like to get ‘more than the occasional root’ with John, you need only cease reading and he’s all yours.

Literary geeks probably don’t get even the occasional root.

the occasional root

And you know this how, exactly?

mr tog and I had had a few dates, but when we seriously suspected we were meant for each other was when I spotted an astrophotography lecture at Sydney Town Hall by David Malin in the paper, and I rang him and invited him to accompany me.

Sure, we still had some courting to do after that to be absolutely sure, but that was the click moment.

Oh, it’s worse than that, John Hooper. Everybody knows if you read books you’ll go to Hell when you die.

And you’ll go blind!

Paul Burns #12,
Eliot Ramsay #15. Had a similar experience at the casual mention of the Prime Minister’s name, confused look, then understanding “ahh.. political stuff, I don’t follow it, sorry”. She was an accountant, and was unable (and uninterested) to correctly name one high profile politician, nor state with any accuracy which party was in government. Nor was even one political party able to be named reliably.

Lauredhl #5,
Pavlov’s Cat #6. I have a similar experiences with committed “hind walkers”. Let’s hope they got in touch with your “front walkers”.

Eliot Ramsay #14. Have never experienced romantic discrimination based on literary snobbery (the topic of this thread) but a slavering admirer of the works of Pablo Picasso (whose idea of a dream holiday was to go to Barcelona & spend all day transfixed in front of a wall upon which a Picasso hung) markedly backed off & eventually faded right away after I once inadvertently revealed that despite his obviously superior talent, I plonked Pablo in the same basket as Ken Done & kindergarten kids, and that I would be most uncomfortable with a Picasso Print hanging in my home.

I don’t really believe in deal-breakers (other than liking George Bush/John Howard), but I do find couples with nothing in common a bit weird.

I once had two housemates whose tastes were so different that if they went to a film they could be certain there was no chance both would like it – one liking it was a bonus. On top of that they fought plenty. Nor, as far as it was possible to tell, was their sex life anything to write home about. Nevertheless, they’d been together for two years, and I still run into them a year later, and they’re still together.

Wreckless Eric that is:

Excuse me