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Armistead · 02-19-15, 10:23 AM

What's going on here....?

Found some writings from the old days at Ubi on my old hard drive I put in my new PC

"Our days were spent letting rookie pilots drop practice depth charges on us, taking out and teaching freckled face PCO's how to use the TDC on stopped ships. When not doing that I was busy using #2 solvent to clean the red oxide lead primer from under my fingernails. Not only did #2 solvent clean primer, Tambor swore if you dumped it on your privates after a visit to the potato table, it would prevent the clap and even cure genital warts.

It wasn't all bad. We weren't allowed passes outside of base, but friends often brought back girls. We met them at the usual meeting place, dumpters behind the mess where some potato cutting tables were set up. With foreplay limited to, "What's your name, sweetheart?" those tables graced at least ten
nekked rears a night. Our nightly visitors didn't say much, just got on the table and about every three minutes one would remove the unfiltered Pall Mall from her lips to holller "Next." Other than a few knuckle sandwiches given to Tambor for breaking in line, it went off without a hitch. Hopefully our actions added much needed flavoring to the base Admirals morning spuds. "

02-19-15, 10:23 AM	#1070
Armistead Rear Admiral Join Date: Dec 2008 Location: on the Dan Posts: 10,880 Downloads: 364 Uploads: 0	What's going on here....? Found some writings from the old days at Ubi on my old hard drive I put in my new PC "Our days were spent letting rookie pilots drop practice depth charges on us, taking out and teaching freckled face PCO's how to use the TDC on stopped ships. When not doing that I was busy using #2 solvent to clean the red oxide lead primer from under my fingernails. Not only did #2 solvent clean primer, Tambor swore if you dumped it on your privates after a visit to the potato table, it would prevent the clap and even cure genital warts. It wasn't all bad. We weren't allowed passes outside of base, but friends often brought back girls. We met them at the usual meeting place, dumpters behind the mess where some potato cutting tables were set up. With foreplay limited to, "What's your name, sweetheart?" those tables graced at least ten nekked rears a night. Our nightly visitors didn't say much, just got on the table and about every three minutes one would remove the unfiltered Pall Mall from her lips to holller "Next." Other than a few knuckle sandwiches given to Tambor for breaking in line, it went off without a hitch. Hopefully our actions added much needed flavoring to the base Admirals morning spuds. " __________________ You see my dog don't like people laughing. He gets the crazy idea you're laughing at him. Now if you apologize like I know you're going to, I might convince him that you really didn't mean it.