Steven Seagal
21-04-2012, 04:10 AM
Chinese Remedial Massage
6 Barker St.
Rooty Hill
Phone: 98328823
Hi All,
This is a review of Ci-Ci.
Before I discuss my punt with CiCi a bit of explanation is in order.
I try to let two fundamental rules govern my punting and feel if I adhere to them punting will be an adventure and a challenge.
The first rule is NEVER WALK. Punting is taking a gamble and is like a throw of the dice.
This rule comes from my nephew Edd ‘Kookie’ Byrnes. He’s always had the policy that: ‘In for a penny and in for a pound’. He never walked while I was around. He’s told me stories about fornicating with a Greek granny twice his age and size and having it on with a lady with a bloated face chock-a-block full of Botox. Punting with Kookie was an adventure and very fun.
And Kookie now? Well he doesn’t punt anymore. He has ensconced himself firmly in suburbia where he lives a decidedly petit bourgeois lifestyle. I can picture him now sitting in front of a log fire, wearing a smoking Stevenet with leather patches on the elbows. In this setting he’d have a pipe in one hand and a glass of sherry in the other. Next to Kookie would be a dog and a leash. The leash would not be attached to the dog, but instead around Kookie’s neck. His beloved wife would tug on that leash every time she saw a sparkle in Kookie's eyes and the look of a man remembering his punting escapades. He’s probably reduced to using adjectives like ‘smashing’ and ‘super’ to describe positive feelings or attitudes, but his legacy liveson in his Don’t walk policy.
I try to implement this policy and the second one that came from my Uncle Jehosophat Seagal. That policy is Only carry with you the minimum amount of money to meet your needs. This to protect yourself from shelling out buckets of dough for extras and then regretting it later.
Uncle Jehosophat was a sight to behold. I am not saying he had the first dollar he made, I think he hand every dollar he made. He ran a pawn shop in New York and would offer you $10 for a brand new IPad and make you think you were the one getting the better of him. Before I shipped out to Vietnam I visited him and he said “Stevenie, let’s go to the finest restaurant in town!” We did and it was me who was the joker who got stuck with the bill. He would steal flies from a blind spider. In the end karma caught up with him and he was buried in a cardboard casket, (His son Julius learned well from him.) with his Seiko not Longines watch around his wrist. Anyway, from him I was bequeathed the legacy of Only carry with you the minimum amount of money to meet your needs.
My nephew Efrem Zimbalist Farquar and I were again on the prowl. We thought of going to Mt Druitt, but Farquar had the ute washed and waxed and was terrified the hoons would trash it just to fuck up his day. So, we decided on Rooty Hill. I often wondered why they called it Rooty Hill. Was it because it was a good place to get a root or where you get rooted by someone? I am still not sure.
Well, we arrived at the joint and it had bars on the windows and door. Why you ask? I can’t imagine why as the only thing you’d be able to steal is this neighbourhood would be rats.
We had both been there about a year ago. Two women were available and for once he got the milf and I got the younger one.
Now this place is about as private as copulating with Elle McPherson on the steps of Town Hall at noon on a Friday afternoon. The walls are paper thin and Farquar could hear all of my seductive sweet talk which he will most assuredly use at a later date. One look at the joint and Ci Ci and my head said WALK and my ideology affirmed that punting a gamble and stay.
CiCi is in her early 20’s with a plain face, slim torso and what appears, from a slight feel from the outside, A- boobs. He English is functional and her greed knows no limits.
The massage was functional. It wasn’t strong enough for me, but she did sort of hit the right spots. At turnover time discussion occurred re: extras and here I let myself down. I brought a wad of money with me and felt as rich as Henry Ford in the moment. I negotiated a cbj for the price one would normally pay for full service. To be fair it was one of the best cbj’s I’ve ever had, but folks that’s all it was.
So there you have it. I obeyed my don’t walk rule and violated my skinflint perspective. The combination was a lethal one and left me with a sour taste in my mouth that was not the result of a daty.
On the way out Farquar then mentions “Oh, I saw CiCi before and she wasn’t much and overcharges!’ Thanks for telling me.
Still, a punt is a punt and a dud punt is better than none at all.
Steven
6 Barker St.
Rooty Hill
Phone: 98328823
Hi All,
This is a review of Ci-Ci.
Before I discuss my punt with CiCi a bit of explanation is in order.
I try to let two fundamental rules govern my punting and feel if I adhere to them punting will be an adventure and a challenge.
The first rule is NEVER WALK. Punting is taking a gamble and is like a throw of the dice.
This rule comes from my nephew Edd ‘Kookie’ Byrnes. He’s always had the policy that: ‘In for a penny and in for a pound’. He never walked while I was around. He’s told me stories about fornicating with a Greek granny twice his age and size and having it on with a lady with a bloated face chock-a-block full of Botox. Punting with Kookie was an adventure and very fun.
And Kookie now? Well he doesn’t punt anymore. He has ensconced himself firmly in suburbia where he lives a decidedly petit bourgeois lifestyle. I can picture him now sitting in front of a log fire, wearing a smoking Stevenet with leather patches on the elbows. In this setting he’d have a pipe in one hand and a glass of sherry in the other. Next to Kookie would be a dog and a leash. The leash would not be attached to the dog, but instead around Kookie’s neck. His beloved wife would tug on that leash every time she saw a sparkle in Kookie's eyes and the look of a man remembering his punting escapades. He’s probably reduced to using adjectives like ‘smashing’ and ‘super’ to describe positive feelings or attitudes, but his legacy liveson in his Don’t walk policy.
I try to implement this policy and the second one that came from my Uncle Jehosophat Seagal. That policy is Only carry with you the minimum amount of money to meet your needs. This to protect yourself from shelling out buckets of dough for extras and then regretting it later.
Uncle Jehosophat was a sight to behold. I am not saying he had the first dollar he made, I think he hand every dollar he made. He ran a pawn shop in New York and would offer you $10 for a brand new IPad and make you think you were the one getting the better of him. Before I shipped out to Vietnam I visited him and he said “Stevenie, let’s go to the finest restaurant in town!” We did and it was me who was the joker who got stuck with the bill. He would steal flies from a blind spider. In the end karma caught up with him and he was buried in a cardboard casket, (His son Julius learned well from him.) with his Seiko not Longines watch around his wrist. Anyway, from him I was bequeathed the legacy of Only carry with you the minimum amount of money to meet your needs.
My nephew Efrem Zimbalist Farquar and I were again on the prowl. We thought of going to Mt Druitt, but Farquar had the ute washed and waxed and was terrified the hoons would trash it just to fuck up his day. So, we decided on Rooty Hill. I often wondered why they called it Rooty Hill. Was it because it was a good place to get a root or where you get rooted by someone? I am still not sure.
Well, we arrived at the joint and it had bars on the windows and door. Why you ask? I can’t imagine why as the only thing you’d be able to steal is this neighbourhood would be rats.
We had both been there about a year ago. Two women were available and for once he got the milf and I got the younger one.
Now this place is about as private as copulating with Elle McPherson on the steps of Town Hall at noon on a Friday afternoon. The walls are paper thin and Farquar could hear all of my seductive sweet talk which he will most assuredly use at a later date. One look at the joint and Ci Ci and my head said WALK and my ideology affirmed that punting a gamble and stay.
CiCi is in her early 20’s with a plain face, slim torso and what appears, from a slight feel from the outside, A- boobs. He English is functional and her greed knows no limits.
The massage was functional. It wasn’t strong enough for me, but she did sort of hit the right spots. At turnover time discussion occurred re: extras and here I let myself down. I brought a wad of money with me and felt as rich as Henry Ford in the moment. I negotiated a cbj for the price one would normally pay for full service. To be fair it was one of the best cbj’s I’ve ever had, but folks that’s all it was.
So there you have it. I obeyed my don’t walk rule and violated my skinflint perspective. The combination was a lethal one and left me with a sour taste in my mouth that was not the result of a daty.
On the way out Farquar then mentions “Oh, I saw CiCi before and she wasn’t much and overcharges!’ Thanks for telling me.
Still, a punt is a punt and a dud punt is better than none at all.
Steven