Hello friends, you may call me Behr. Friends call me this. My full name is Berhardt Wilhelm Goats (friends call me "Behr"). I have been a regular contributor to this web intraspeak for over ten years now which is one decade (plus). From time to time I will drop in at the drop of a hat to update old friends and newer ones as well (always a few more seats in the Behr Bus for new friends who are in right minds).

Business has been slow in most of my business due to Barack Obama and his hideous henchman Joe Biden literally fucking with things no one in their right mind would fuck with. So there is that of course. Also, I began dating this woman named Easter Fields (I have used a made up name in place of her actually name which I will keep secret due to respect for her box) a couple months ago and it ended on a sour note by which I mean she is apparently obsessed with elves, elvish folk, and all things elven. I guess she has this thing about wanting to be captured by elves (or elvish folk) and tied down in a rickety shack where they apparently take turns violating her. This is too much for me to handle given that I am old and bald.

Now wait, you might say, when at first perplexed by a problem that has presented itself. This is what I am talking about here, as in exactly that. Recovering from a painful breakup with a romantic partner is an awful thing to endure, especially if you now find yourself obsessing over whether or not she's having a sexual adventure with elvish folk. It can wear you down and darned near wear you out. The problem presents itself and therefore we must solve the problem with our wits and learnings. Each of which are equally important in both business and romantic endeavors (write that part down it will seem to be helpful later on). I am now reminded by an instant message from an associate online (on the computer) that when one types a story about one's day it is known in modern speech as "a missive."

Those kids with their cell phones these days, how about that? Quite a subject for some yarns. However I don't have any of these yarns due to disdain felt towards me by young folks who think I am old-fashioned. Perish the thought!

I went to the movies a couple of weeks ago to see the latest James Bond romp (more modern language terms) entitled Skyfall. Quite something. It was some kind of film. I attended the screening of this film at my local theatre (which is owned by a chain) flanked by close personal friends Chopper Van Buren and The Slow Kid (not sure of his God-given name but everyone knows him as The Slow Kid so this is fine for our purposes). We had some overpriced pop corn and shared a large orange soda (although we are not gay men). The yarn unfolded before our eyes (the James Bond yarn) and I watched the plot thicken and thin out several times amidst great action. It reminded me of my formative years growing up in a house attached to the Berlin Wall and how several times I watched bodies blown up to prove important points.

This was the only movie I've gone out to recently that I can remember although I do have cable (and internet service from the same provider).

Well, your friend Behr is going to sign off now. Thanks for tuning in. Catch you on the rebound (modern street lingo).

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