Given Professor Bainbridge's recent foray into alternative history (via TOM), it only made sense to finally publish this old forum letter (never sent) that he drafted some time ago. Don't ask me how I got it, let's just say the NSA has its ways...
Update:
TOM: By God, @SarahPalinUSA is right!
Dear Penthouse Forum:
I had a amazing synergistic joining of wine, food and love that I need to share with you. I was at the Lady & Sons restaurant, enjoying a Copperridge White Zinfandel when I noticed an attractive platinum blond women in the restaurant. As you can see from my photograph above, I am a burly manly man who attracts and often enjoys the companionship of good looking women. I could feel this woman's eyes going up and down my ample frame like maple glaze over a Smithfield ham. It made me strangely uncomfortable, but in a good way, like those fiery truck stop Jalapeno poppers on the tongue.
Normally I have complete confidence with the ladies, but I found myself nervous in approaching this Venus. Fortunately I had enough Copperridge and several shots of GoldschlÀger to introduce myself. It turned out, thank goodness, that she was alone. She asked if I would like to join her? She introduced herself as Paula. Paula looked to be in sixties, but could easily pass for late fifties. She had white blond hair and a thick Southern accident. I found myself wondering if she was a real blond Southerner. I say that because sometimes I like to affect a Trans Atlantic British accent with my students, but I digress.
We found a quite corner of the restaurant. I ordered a bottle of Beringer White Zinfandel and (ordering off the menu as I am apt to do) an appetizer of mini corn dogs and a side of mayonnaise as a dipping sauce. She said she admired by pairing abilities. We spoke of politics for a bit. She mentioned she was a Democrat and Obama supporter. I told her I was a Republican, but one of the good ones. I winked at her, not in a false Sarah Palin way, but as someone who knows how to wink at a lady. I may have closed both my eyes (I tend to do that) and wrinkled my nose. She said I reminded her of her of her pet pug and signaled her acceptance of me when she casually touched my arm. Before long Paula took off her shoes and began rubbing my inner thighs with her bare feet. She must have been a contortionist with the way she worked those toes. I wasn't sure I could make it through the bottle of wine, I wanted this woman so much, but I was not going to miss those corn dogs.
After some more drinks and food we eventually made it back to her home. Paula left me to open another bottle of wine, which Sweet Lord Bacchus was a Sutter Home White Zin! This woman was the sommelier of my dreams! When she returned she was wearing just a kitchen apron. She looked delicious! I couldn't believe my luck. I held her ample warm body against mine while we kissed. She said she could smell the corn dogs on me and it was making her hot. That made me hot. In a passionate embrace we made our way to the kitchen.
I watched her 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, 1/4 teaspoon fine salt, 3 tablespoons granulated white sugar, 1/4 cup Crisco, cold, 12 tablespoons butter, cold and cubed. 1/4 cup to 1/2 cup ice water. In a large mixing bowl, I watched her sift together the flour, salt and sugar. Paula then added the shortening and broke it up with her hands coat it all up with the flour. My excitement built as I watched her work her fingers through the ingredients. She then added the cold butter cubes and worked them into the flour with her hands. She worked it quickly, keeping the butter hard (was it ever), until the mixture was crumbly, like very coarse cornmeal. Paula then added the ice water, a little at a time, until the mixture came together forming a dough. Paula then brought the dough together into a ball. I thought I would pass out from the thrill of watching her work that dough, thinking of her subtle fingers working my ample inner thighs like she did with her toes back at the restaurant.
Paula then divided the dough in half and flatten it slightly to form a disk shape. She wrap each disk in plastic and chilled them in the refrigerator. She then joined me on the love seat, which was actually a full sized couch but very cozy for the two of us. As we finished off the Sutter Home, she let me lick the butter and Crisco from her fingers. She spoke of trans-fats and Sarbanes-Oxley. At that moment, I have never been so happy.
She then excused herself to go finish the pie, saying the dough had rested enough. I opened another bottle of Sutter Home and watched her contently from the couch, working her magic...
I do not remember what happened next. All I know is I woke up on the couch that morning. My clothes where scattered around the room along with various kitchen tools and about a dozen empty bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade. I had a terrible headache. Paula was gone. I went into the bathroom and looking in the mirror I saw my face was glazed like a Krispykreme doughnut. My ample frame was slick with butter, Crisco and flour. From the bruises on my buttocks, I could tell she had used the spatula on me. Did I tell her about the buggery and hazing at boarding school? I vaguely remember her mentioning pony play. Whatev, I must have been naughty. There were chunks of pie crust and peach filling in my beard, mustache, and soul patch and when I licked them they tasted divine. I went out to the kitchen and the note on the counter said could I please let myself out and never call her again.
Update:
TOM: By God, @SarahPalinUSA is right!
 |
| Sybariate Playah Professor Bainbridge |
 |
| Buttery temptress Paula Deen |
Dear Penthouse Forum:
I had a amazing synergistic joining of wine, food and love that I need to share with you. I was at the Lady & Sons restaurant, enjoying a Copperridge White Zinfandel when I noticed an attractive platinum blond women in the restaurant. As you can see from my photograph above, I am a burly manly man who attracts and often enjoys the companionship of good looking women. I could feel this woman's eyes going up and down my ample frame like maple glaze over a Smithfield ham. It made me strangely uncomfortable, but in a good way, like those fiery truck stop Jalapeno poppers on the tongue.
Normally I have complete confidence with the ladies, but I found myself nervous in approaching this Venus. Fortunately I had enough Copperridge and several shots of GoldschlÀger to introduce myself. It turned out, thank goodness, that she was alone. She asked if I would like to join her? She introduced herself as Paula. Paula looked to be in sixties, but could easily pass for late fifties. She had white blond hair and a thick Southern accident. I found myself wondering if she was a real blond Southerner. I say that because sometimes I like to affect a Trans Atlantic British accent with my students, but I digress.
We found a quite corner of the restaurant. I ordered a bottle of Beringer White Zinfandel and (ordering off the menu as I am apt to do) an appetizer of mini corn dogs and a side of mayonnaise as a dipping sauce. She said she admired by pairing abilities. We spoke of politics for a bit. She mentioned she was a Democrat and Obama supporter. I told her I was a Republican, but one of the good ones. I winked at her, not in a false Sarah Palin way, but as someone who knows how to wink at a lady. I may have closed both my eyes (I tend to do that) and wrinkled my nose. She said I reminded her of her of her pet pug and signaled her acceptance of me when she casually touched my arm. Before long Paula took off her shoes and began rubbing my inner thighs with her bare feet. She must have been a contortionist with the way she worked those toes. I wasn't sure I could make it through the bottle of wine, I wanted this woman so much, but I was not going to miss those corn dogs.
After some more drinks and food we eventually made it back to her home. Paula left me to open another bottle of wine, which Sweet Lord Bacchus was a Sutter Home White Zin! This woman was the sommelier of my dreams! When she returned she was wearing just a kitchen apron. She looked delicious! I couldn't believe my luck. I held her ample warm body against mine while we kissed. She said she could smell the corn dogs on me and it was making her hot. That made me hot. In a passionate embrace we made our way to the kitchen.
I watched her 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, 1/4 teaspoon fine salt, 3 tablespoons granulated white sugar, 1/4 cup Crisco, cold, 12 tablespoons butter, cold and cubed. 1/4 cup to 1/2 cup ice water. In a large mixing bowl, I watched her sift together the flour, salt and sugar. Paula then added the shortening and broke it up with her hands coat it all up with the flour. My excitement built as I watched her work her fingers through the ingredients. She then added the cold butter cubes and worked them into the flour with her hands. She worked it quickly, keeping the butter hard (was it ever), until the mixture was crumbly, like very coarse cornmeal. Paula then added the ice water, a little at a time, until the mixture came together forming a dough. Paula then brought the dough together into a ball. I thought I would pass out from the thrill of watching her work that dough, thinking of her subtle fingers working my ample inner thighs like she did with her toes back at the restaurant.
Paula then divided the dough in half and flatten it slightly to form a disk shape. She wrap each disk in plastic and chilled them in the refrigerator. She then joined me on the love seat, which was actually a full sized couch but very cozy for the two of us. As we finished off the Sutter Home, she let me lick the butter and Crisco from her fingers. She spoke of trans-fats and Sarbanes-Oxley. At that moment, I have never been so happy.
She then excused herself to go finish the pie, saying the dough had rested enough. I opened another bottle of Sutter Home and watched her contently from the couch, working her magic...
I do not remember what happened next. All I know is I woke up on the couch that morning. My clothes where scattered around the room along with various kitchen tools and about a dozen empty bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade. I had a terrible headache. Paula was gone. I went into the bathroom and looking in the mirror I saw my face was glazed like a Krispykreme doughnut. My ample frame was slick with butter, Crisco and flour. From the bruises on my buttocks, I could tell she had used the spatula on me. Did I tell her about the buggery and hazing at boarding school? I vaguely remember her mentioning pony play. Whatev, I must have been naughty. There were chunks of pie crust and peach filling in my beard, mustache, and soul patch and when I licked them they tasted divine. I went out to the kitchen and the note on the counter said could I please let myself out and never call her again.
I dream of her. I saved the note and it is one of my prized possessions. I had it laminated. I admire it often when I am alone.
@ProfBainbridge and you would know! http://t.co/2lypopJnWN @HarrietBaldwin @rsmccainPaula Deen moves to dismiss lawsuit based on SCOTUS Prop 8 decision?
— Evi L. Bloggerlady (@MsEBL) July 1, 2013
Paula Deen should be fired from the Food Network not for racism but for this...
And yes, Alec Baldwin remains a douchebag...
Um... RT @HuffingtonPost: Paula Deen offered six-figure deal by porn company http://t.co/9bvJsH9LIw pic.twitter.com/CsrlV4TmB4American Power on RedState and Sarah Palin
— Tammy Bruce (@HeyTammyBruce) July 3, 2013
TOM: Last week's Rule 5 summary
TOM/Smity: Rare bird killed by giant Turbine; Professor Bainbridge: Mmmmm, bird baked in pie, I will be in my bunk!
THE SEXY SEASON WITH GRANDMA
ReplyDeleteOHH NO MR BILL! Has the Dude lost it? Do we need to lock Granny in the closet? Inquiring minds want to know! -- It's that Twisted advertising season.
http://goodstuffsworld.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-sexy-season-with-grandma.html
BTW - will link