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"The Cheez Whiz Reunion topic" got very interesting when Mrs. Plop joined in. We stated getting off the subject though and brought the conversation here.

From Mrs. Plop...
Another flirtatious young man? "have your way with me"? I blushed, and it WASN'T from my mug of ceylon tea steaping in front of me. The gentlemen are so upfront with their sexuality. So much more than when I was playing. I am an open book if you care to read my pages. Mr. Tangle, your explicit talk reminded me of a rooster strutting around the barnyard. I am sure you are a handsome devil. And Mr. Daddy, my how you must work on that physique. It has been quite sometime since I have laid eyes on a hard, chiseled Adonis like yourself. I have searched for photos of you, and have only found things that must be before your dedication to exercise. But dark, mysterious eyes. My guess is a latin lover? Enough!! I have overstayed my welcome here. Mistress of the room, banish me to my proper place, and I will wait for these gentlemen to come knocking at my door. Oh and my Tinkerbell says Sweetie isn't a bitch. And she should know. tee hee. (i have humor too)
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I feel as if I have won a contest. I was very shaken with my shoddy start on these Boards of Mothers, and as I perused thru my cyber solar system and landed once again in the warmth of your fair community, I am humbled that you find me worthy of a forum for communication. Now that we are friends, please allow me to become a first name neighbor with you. My name is Virginia. I am sure I am many years the senior of most of you, but I am like a girl in my heart. I enjoy the luxury of retirement. My career(s) were that of a Hostess in the VIP quarters of a swank Las Vegas, Nevada casino. I have taught many methods of dance locally as well as two seasons aboard a Luxury Liner for singles. My only real show business endeavor was demonstarting microwave ovens in Macy's Housewares department before many of you were born. I had a script I performed and wore a beautiful gold lame' gown provided by my employer.

I am a single, never married woman who became very involved in Plato's Retreat on the upper west side of New York City. I acted as a third in many polyamorous relationships, and am a vehement believer that true love can be shared between more than one partner. I have enjoyed deep, intimate relationships with both male and female lovers and have been a property owner of a home in The Pines on Fire Island that hosted countless "swing" parties in the 70's and early 80's. That lifestyle came to a screeching halt for me with the onslaught of AIDS, but the ideals,
and basis of such relationships still are very dear to me. I have served as a sexual surrogate in many marriages and worked as a tool to stregnthen the bond between mates in both heterosexual, and lesbian structures. I am a champion of animals and am the mother of a 13 year old toy poodle Tinkerbell, that gave me many wet kisses today for my big day (mothers day) I enjoy as well as study eastern philosophy, love feminist authors and sheepishly have fallen victim to the addiction of Bingo. Classic Rock always fills my four walls. Elvis Aaron Presley can be heard more times than not. I do enjoy Van Morrison, Neil Young, Bob Dylan, Crosby, stills, Nash AND (YOUNG), and consider myself one of Joanie Mitchells ladies of the Canyon. I have read about your Stevie Nicks tribute. I enjoy Ms. Nicks as a songwriter/lyricist but sadly her voice reminds me of a blender when I have tried to listen to her for extended periods. I am in awe of her beauty, and place in the folklore of Rock music. I fancy myself somewhat of an artist and have enjoyed selling my abstact paintings at a local flea market. (One selling for $125.00)

My life for the last 15 years has been gaining as much knowledge as I can thru this mind boggling machine I am typing into. I am involved in many E.A.Presley fan bases as well as a frequent online shopper of my tactile addiction Capo Diamante porcelian figurines. My home is a showplace of the pieces I have collected for the better half of 35 years. My sitting room was photographed in 1993 for a collectors periodical, and I appeared with my Tinkerbell in matching fantasy costumes of Italia and wore an antique pair of button top boots from the late 1800's on the periodical cover. It was a shining moment. Tinkerbell was a bit of a banshy courtesean since she appeared bare foot. It is past 11:30, and I am not the night bird I used to be. I hope I have provided you, my new neighbors with a profile that is worthy of your friendship. If there are doggy lovers, I host splendid doggy socials in Flushing Meadow Park. Of course Tinkerbell is the star of my early morning weekday, and afternoon weekend galas. She is such a prima donna. I am eager for your correspondence. Thank you for welcoming me into this cyber cell. I will treat you with all the respect I can offer. I have searched posts by Darla Diamond, the crossdresser Sweety referenced me to. I can assure you, as nice as Diamond may be, my global views are much different. Please give me a chance to show you the person I am. With that I am into the kitchen for some Sleepy Time tea and then sweet dreams of a fair Prince named Tangle, and a dashing villian named Dynell.
Welcome to the Motherboards...

And thank you for spicing up our party this evening at The Park. It is a weekly soiree called "The Rambles," appropriately named in honor of that furtively rambunctious sanctuary situated in Central Park (from what you've shared with us so far, I gather you know the area).

On more than one occasion this evening, I heard the name "Mrs. Plop" slip from lips of our guests. Tonight's party was for Nancy Isla's wife and, as you seem to know your way around the subject of Sappho, your timing couldn't have been better.

Can't wait for more dialogue - I'm itching to hear more of your "global views" which I'm certain will be appreciated in this neck of the woods, and I would love it if you are able to post a photo from your performance days at Macy's all decked out in gold lame! Big Grin
Please let your friend Nancy know I am not a professional therapist, but could lend a sound ear if she and her partner are experiencing trouble. I can't imagine being brought up in conversation at a party where I am a total stranger. I do hope my name created smiles, it certainly sounds silly, now doesn't it. I am not adverse to being called Virginia. PLOP of course is not my last name. The letters P.L.O.P have significance in my life. As for my global views, well I must have a topic to expound upon. Joe, please provide me with some food for thought and I will do my best to lend my humble opinion. I am shocked New York City with all of it's rigidity allows a late night party in Central Park. Is it sponsored in part by the Parks Commission? Can you smoke? I am one of those terrible people that loves to puff, puff, puff. I have tried all sorts of methods to get off these pesky cigs, but have resigned to the fact that I am happiest with a cigarette in my hand. I burn more up than smoke them it seems. I am meeting a dog walking chum for a bite and a movie in Manhattan. I am always frazzled looking for parking. A dear friend gave me his 1994 Mercedes, when he learned he was medically unfit to drive any longer. I cared for him as best I could until his passing. Brilliant dancer until the day he died. I have splendid memories of being held by such a fabulous partner. Hey, I got it, are there any professional dancers out there? Lovers of dance? Please let me know? I am mad for dance enthusiasts. If I am not too pooped after my adventure in the city and a late night stroll with Tinky, I will check in for correspondence. Dear Tangle, have I scared you away, or has some vixen stolen you from me. I may end up in the arms of The Daddy of Dynell. I hope neither of you are involved with Sweetie Pie, I have ruffled his/her feathers enough. I certainly hope Glammernerd has softend on me. I bet Glammer is a good kid. I bet he's a Scorpio too. Best wishes cybies.
... although I would be nervous to battle with the Daddy of the villianous Dynell lineage; I would call upon my own royal ancestry and fight for you, my lovely Maude, until victory or death. But be warned, Mrs. Plop: a battle between such warriors as Daddy and myself could very well end up in a vicious shtup in the battlefield port-o-potty... then what would it all mean??
Genteel Daddy, I had no idea you were attatched. My beliefs in the Poly lifestyle is something I would never push on a happily married man. It must be a three way agreement where love is shared by all parties concerned. Hello Anna Nicole. You are quite the rabble rouser, aren't you? I assure you dear Anna Nicole, I am a mere dreamer, giving over to a bit of whimsy. Please do not take my rambling too seriously, or you might be percieved as gullible. Introduce yourself Anna Nicole. I am sure you are a perfectly adorable young lady. My information is provided above.

My Tinkerbell had to visit the mean old Vet today. Poor little baby chipped a canine tooth on one of her chew sticks.
mrs plop - when I worked in the admissions office of my old school, I had the pleasure of giving a tour to a these two queens. turns out one was from Somalia and claimed to be Iman's cousin (dont they all!) - but I digress - the Other one was a gentleman who - and I still remember this - told me (during the whole tour - where I was supposed to be the one talking) about his long-term 3way relationship with a male and female. He also claimed to be one of the founders of NAMBLA. It was quite a colorful weekend. Neither of them ended up attending the school and after the drag ball that night (coincidence?) I never saw them again.
Hello Jade. Hello Messy Bonnie Raitt. Jade thank you for lending that little story. The name NAMBLA however sends a sickening chill throughout my entire body. I have actually seen a documentary on these people, and although it is never another human beings right to judge their neighbor, I must admit the portrayl of these men if accurate, was deplorable. Consenting ADULTS have the right to engage in whatever lunacy they see fit with one another as long as it is consentual. I will begrudgingly admit in my heyday I tried a few things that in hindsight makes my stomach lurch, BUT it was with adults and we knew what we were getting into. A CHILD cannot make informed decisions and should NEVER be put in an adult arena where sexual contact is involved. Although I am a childless woman, I ache for all children that have been neglected, abused, or mistreated. I am a protector of things that cannot protect themselves. Children, animals, the infirm. My heart breaks at the sight of a mumbling homeless human being on the street, clearly in need of a hospital bed and a good psychiatrist. I want to stress that multi partnering in no way is correlated with NAMBLA. On to rosier pathways. Are any of you fellow cybies fellow pagans? I have been working hard with the Mother to get some good weather here. I leave for my summer sanctuary June 1, and must have proper weather to drench myself in the Mothers warm sunshine. I swim so much during the summer months I fear I will grow gills. Tinkerbell lazes in the sun, on one of my many homemade beach blankets (another of my little talents).
She has her running buddies that she looks foward to seeing when June approaches. Lord Roy, a dashing Golden Retriever has had eyes for Tinkerbell for years. She pals around with Gidget, and Daisy, and Muggs, and Barnaby. She is the social butterfly. I am however, agonizing over a dilemma of vanity. I am feeling a pang to go summer blonde for the season. I haven't touched my hair for almost 10 years. I have wonderful legnth, but the shade I'm afraid is a bit blah. I would love to return my hair to the sun streaked mane I had years ago, but am afraid that time has snuck up on me and I might look silly. Lauren Hutton is still a stunning blonde, as well as Lauren Becall for that matter. Have any of you any Ideas on a place in Manhattan where they can properly color very long hair?
Mrs. Plop,
Don't go gently into the good night (or whatever it was). Fight! Don't give up on your hair! Lauren (Hutton) is a friend of mine. I'll find out who does her hair (but she probably does it herself knowing her) Stay young, it's a choice. (Although it does take up a lot less of your day when you are young).

and NAMBLA...
too wierd!
That was the only time in the decade we did Jackie 60 that we had to "retract" a theme. We (naively) started doing NAMBLA as a theme party. "Man/Boy love" sounded perfect for a "Boys Night". It wasn't untill Hattie got all this literature from them and I started to do the research that I discovered that they were not talking about 17 or 18 year old boys...
They would go to swimming pools and take pictures of little boys playing (with their swimming trunks falling down etc.) SICK!
At the last minute we changed it to "Puppet Love" and Basil Twist saved the day. It was a Man/Puppet Love thing with crafty old Gipetto and Pinnochio, that sort of thing. I'm sure Hattie probably knew what NAMBLA was but Chi Chi, Kitty and I had no idea how young "boy" meant.
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Oh, Mrs. Plop! I had to laugh out loud. Our weekly party is at a beautiful lounge called "The Park," not the ACTUAL Central Park; the parties that go on in The Rambles uptown would NEVER get a permit from the current administration - that's why they're so infamous!

And...should you make it out to our little soiree some Sunday evening - you can puff puff puff your little lungs off (as I do) in either of our "smoking gardens." BTW, your new friend Nancy (who is rumored to be having absolutely NO marital strife) will be our guest DJ in the penthouse - something tells me you're quite the dancer. And, if you fall on the dancefloor, Nancy has a brilliant attorney. Lawsuits galore!

I'll be spending some time on the Island this summer, as my mate is playing Michael in the Boys in the Band production...we must meet up for sorbet! E-mail me at

And, check out the "Elsewhere" section, Displaced Radical Faeries'll find more pagans than you can shake a snake at!
Big Grin
No Daddy, I never realized how young NAMBLA's focus was until I bought that mag for research. And the letters within, all from incarcerated molesters, who previously held jobs like playground attendants and little league coaches. Yuck! 14 or 15 I might understand (might), but 4 though 8? No way!
Anyway, Man/Puppet Love was SO much better.
So much information to process in just one reading. Daddy (I feel so silly calling you that)
are you really friends with Lauren Hutton? I simply adore her. I have since she first appeared in print so many years ago. Very handsome woman. Unconventional looks, but still very striking. Thank you for the encouragement in my hair dilemma. Mr. Joe! I feel such a warmth from your writing. I have dined at The Park restaurant on more than one occasion. A gentleman friend and I have been there three different occasions. I have not been since the smoking ban. I would dine in a parking lot if they would allow me to smoke a cig with my scotch before dinner. I am mad for dancing. Dancing is my life basically. I am my best on the dance floor with a competent partner, and a beat to guide us. Do you dance Mr. Joe? A mild case of arthritis in my hips makes it a little harder to get those moves out, but I am not beat yet. Anna Nicole, so glad you stopped by to pay a visit. I would love to join you at caberet Magique sometime very soon. Before too many packs of Lucky's took my voice south, I loved to entertain my chums by getting up and singing silly songs at the Duplex. I really am a terrible bunch of fun. My Tinkerbell is eating soft food for three days as her doggy crown settles in her mouth. She really is an old lady, but I trick her into being a puppy. As for the N word talk. I say ENOUGH. Lets concentrate on bold, colorful topics. Mr. Joe, I would adore a visit this summer, and will certainly see any theatrical production you recommend. Perhaps we can share a tango on my sunporch? I promise not to make you awkward. I am a very good teacher. And I will email you soon. thank you for extending your friendship. I have many themed parties over the course of the summer at my home. My Hawaiian themed party even include a torch lined pathway to my garden where I have Hawaiian singers and Hula dancers. Polynesian attire is so summery and romantic. I am mad for sarong skirts and a little cotton top over a bikini. I feel my most romantic with fresh flowers in my hair. I have had such joy speaking to all of you new cybie friends. I hope we can meet very soon and enjoy many cigs over a few scotches. Where is Tangle?
And where is that divine Bobby Miller? I hope I didnt make him uncomfortable. I tend to go on some times.
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Everyone calls me Daddy, don't feel funny about it.

So how does it feel to be on the tip of EVERYONE'S tounge? (I bet you haven't felt that since Plato's retreat! -just kidding.)
Last night at Cabaret Magique the room was buzzing with rumors that you were there. It was hysterical. You'd think Osama Bin Laden was in the room the way people (including me) were acting. Pointing at strangers and asking, "Do you think that's her?"

And pay no attention to a certain "Mrs. Messy You Know Who". She's a bit fuzzy until she does a little coke. Then she's fine. (Believe me, she does not know Don Ho). Just don't invite her out to your summer retreat. She'll never leave. And if she does, it will be with half of your belongings. Just a warning.
So many of us are hoping you can make it to Cabaret Magique. It's an early event and so many of us from The Motherboards go. Johhny Dynell, aka Daddy,and his wife Chi Chi throw the party and it really is comfortable. It is at a beautiful restaurant called Chez Esaada. We would love to have you stop by. Bring a friend if you like. I am performing the last Wednesday of the month, and would love to have you there. Please consider the invitation. We all are excited to meet you. And by the way, I am not the bitch these guys make me out to be. I am a good witch. Witches Honor!!!!!!!!! Big Grin Big Grin Big Grin Big Grin

[This message was edited by sweetie on 05-17-03 at 02:29 PM.]
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I will try my best to make it to the caberet on May 28. I haven't been to a caberet since my Duplex days. Miss Understood, you are fabulous. Your hair must be quite labor intensive. I have quite long hair myself and just to wash and dry it is a day long chore. I know it must be a hair piece as well, but the style is so creative. I am a scotch drinker, single malt preferably, but a Black Label alway suffices when in dire straights. How does one dress for this caberet? Tall hats? Very interesting. Is there a dance floor? A patio for my nasty puffing habit? Someone please include the address and directions, as I will be travelling by car. I am honored to have been invited. Thank you Sweetie, Miss Understood, Zazoo and Tori. I look forward to meeting you all. Will Bobby Miller be involved in the caberet that evening?
My love affair with E.A.P goes back to 1967, when I was a cocktail waitress/hostess in the VIP quarters of The Sahara in Las Vegas Nevada. I was young and extremely impressionable. I had met many famous types while working the graveyard shift when many of the performers in town liked to drink and gamble with their cronies. Joey Bishop, Rodney Dangerfield, Phyllis Diller, Totie Fields, Marty Allen, Rusty Warren, Charlie Callas. I entertained many celebrities. I was star struck like most young girls my age, but kept myself in control enough to handle my duties. Charlie Callas, although physically unattractive, was one of the most charming men I have ever met. One evening out of the clear blue sky, E.A.P and about a dozen of his boys from Memphis came in and started yelling and carrying on like a group of wild indians. I was terrified. E.A.P was unshaven and visibly intoxicated. He was still handsome beyond my wildest dreams. His hair was so black it shined navy blue, and although he was in need of sleep, he had the face of an angel. A very good looking angel. He moved around the room, attending to the needs of his men like a mother hen. I was standing in a corner, trying to be invisible and he came up with a hand full of cash, and asked me to run to the gift shop for cigarettes, cigars, and chewing gum for his friends. He must have handed me two hundred dollars, which in those days was a fortune, and whisperd his instructions in my ear, the whole time his scruffy, unshaven cheek, running across mine. His cologne was like nothing I had smelled before. Later I narrowed it down to Royal Copenhagen, but it was unknown to me at the time. I followed his instructions to the letter and returned with the things he had asked for. The total was only about thirty five dollars and he insisted I keep the change. He took my hand and shook it warmly and again rubbed his cheek against mine. It was a life changing experience to be touched by such greatness in such intimate circumstances. His charm, warmth, and magnetism rolled off him like his intoxicating cologne. I have been under his undying spell ever since. I am an E.A.P historian of sorts, and am frequently asked to comment on E.A.P fan sites all over the internet. I am able to recite in order his every number one hit, and have a concrete theory as to the events leading to his most tragic death, and the motives of the vultures who tried to tarnish his legacy. It is also my firm belief that I have been the target of an investigation surrounding my theory as to the reasons leading up to E.A.P's demise, and I have gone on record as saying I have felt I was being watched by recording company executives and their greedy henchmen. To many of you this sounds ludicrous, to me however I am absoulute in my beliefs and will one day prove my theory beyond a shadow of a doubt. I believe given the right circumstances I could have been a very important person in E.A.P's life, and can only hope in his afterlife he has witnessed the work I have done in perserving his memory, and keeping his powerful legacy alive. I have met with Pricilla as well as Lisa Marie on two occasions at Graceland, and feel as if they are my family, although our meetings were brief. The exchange of hello actually. They know how much E. A.P meant to me. I am more than a fan, I feel like a widow. It is early and I have playdates for
my Tinkerbell. Happy Sunday cybies.
My lovely Mrs. Plop, your story about E.A.P. is enchanting. You are treating your love for him and your mission for his honor with such dignity. My respect for you grows with each of your letters.

"Love letters straight from your heart
Keep us so near while apart"

Do you know that everyone has been calling me Mr. Plop?

...and Mr. Joe is right I love to tango, but I do need some lessons. It sounds like you would be quite the partner. Perhaps one sunny afternoon on Fire Island I will find myself lucky enough to receive a lesson from you. So many stories I would love to hear from you as well: Plato's Retreat, the underground, heterosexual New York in the late 70's. Your history is facinating to me. Mrs. Plop, if you are planning on attending Cabaret Magique on Wednesday, perhaps you would allow me to pick you up at your home and escort you to the event. It would be an honor.

yours truly,
Mr. Tangle
Tangle is young and full of life. So what if he has a Harold & Maude fantasy going.
Mrs. Plop,
you are obviously a special person who has REALLY lived. I think you have alot to add to these boards and alot to teach young boys like Tangle and Mr. Joe.
Let your Salt & Pepper Spring / Autumn Mrs. Robinson Freak Flag Fly!
Pay no attention to Sweetie (who between you and me doesn't believe you exist)
Tangle your message was so beautiful. I am still tingling from your Tangle prose. I am afraid I can never live up to curiosity thats seems to surround me. I am an ordinary woman living quietly in the outer stratosphere of New York City. And dear Daddy, Sweetie is a pussycat. I have read her many posts, and her shield is her sassy remarks, but I believe there is a big heart under all that bluster. I will give Sweetie a big hug when I come to see him/her perform at Caberet Magique next week. I will hug all of you who have taken time to correspond so politely over the last few weeks. My life has a new vitality as I click on to this little room, when I must escape the boredom of my day to day existence. I have Tinkerbell on my lap, and I have shown her pictures of her new friends. I love the topic of baby pictures, perhaps I will insert a snap of Tinky for you all to eat your hearts out. By the way, is there a proper dance floor at this Caberet Magique? I would love to bring my fans and show you how I used to cause a stir with my passionate antics. And once again, how does one dress for this affair? I am counting the days my newfound cybies. Oh and Mr. Tangle expect an email from me. If anyone would like to correspond privately, my email address is . I go mad for penpals. Please do not abuse this invitation. I reach out to you in friendship.
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May I refer you all to a past posting of the Cheeze Queen Herself:

I am sooo thankful everytime I look out into that audience and know I have played a part in bringing you out for the night. New York has a thousand choices at ANY given moment, and for so many of you to frequent my parties sooooo loyally makes me feel like the luckiest old whore stil knocking around this ghost town. And to THANK me on top of it is a mind blower!!!!! THANK YOU, THANK YOU for employing me, for valuing me, for trusting my taste of whats good, and for filling my room with beauty. I mean it. THANK YOU!!

Anyway... can't a boy be in love in this town without everyone getting vicious?
My apologies for being absent from this room for the last few days. This weather has very bad effects on a faded dancers bones. I am looking very foward to attending this coming Wednesday night,that is if my hips, ankles, and shoulders allow me to move freely. Otherwise I will need to spearhead a field trip to my home, and we can enjoy a lovely day in my garden. If the Goddess is willing, all of my beautiful greenery will be preening for all of you to admire. My mood has been less than cheery, so I have purposely not botherd my new cybie friends with my aches and pains. I wanted to give a hello however, before heading off to my video store for tonites entertainment. Tangle, Joe, Daddy, and the others of you who have sent email, I so appreciate the correspondence. As I have said, I am mad for a pen pal. I would love to see what all of you look like when the stage lights have been dimmed and only sunshine is on your beautiful faces. I end this post with a smile.
An envelope has just slipped under my door with my name on it. Inside is a letter written in an awful brown nail polish with white flakes dried into it. It reads:

"Ef you want yer feckin' Mrss. PLOP back bring me 10 (crossed out) 20 (crossed out) a hole lot of bags of 'T...' under the Brooklen Bridge. Ef i dont git it by mornin thet stupit pooch gits thrown in first. Then that next mornin, PLOP goes plop!"

---that dumb cunt signed her own ransom note.

Shame on all of you with your judgements and jeers. As for you Tangle. How dare you make a joke of my feelings for you. Kidnapping is no laughing matter. People disappear every day. Never, ever to be heard from again. Does the name Jimmy Hoffa mean anything to you? E.A.P might still be here today if it wasn't for nay-sayers like the bunch of you. Mr. Joe, I revealed very private feelings to you along with an apology for missing your big fancy, nose in the air birthday party, and you couldn't take a measly minute to answer could you? I have waited two weeks for a reply. You are a little brat. Too busy running around Central Park with your fancy parties and jet set vacations. All of you, the whole lot, can go suck an egg. I'm very angry, and thats how I feel. I'm glad I didn't go to the Caberet Magique that night. And I bet thats a false picture of YOU Daddy. If you are the father of all of these cry babies, well then go suck an egg too.
This is all getting to parallel universe to me... Mrs Plop has pooped I think.... perhaps we can do a special Magique event where Plop ...poops out and reveals herself.... Messy and Daddy cut it out! Or start hittin the Lithium ... think it will sort BOTH of you out (ahem). I am lost by all of this ... or in the words of my toddler when asked how he felt this morning " Mommie I am NOTHING" i see my tyke is an existentialist at 2 and half.... HE is PROBABLY the real Mrs Prop
And there IS a Johnny Gato, and there IS a Miss Understood, and there IS a Shema Nails, and there IS a glamnerd, etc. We are all quite virtually real, and quite virtually alive.

So, my dear, please check your e-mail dated Friday the 13th, which is the date I responded, and told you about my lovely trip across the country (which might explain why it took me so long to respond). If you read it thoroughly, you'll also find an invitation to a certain opening night. I'll supply the egg. Big Grin
From everything we've HEARD, Mr. Joe's parties aren't usually described as "fancy"

Mrs. Plop, even if you're not, we're sorry you missed Cabaret Magique that night, as we won't get another opportunity to meet you for a while...

You'll have to understand that we've had several very intriguing people become very involved penpals, only to disappear without so much as a "boo!"

So, some people around here have developed a deep seated fear of abandonment, and you being a very matronly personality, have touched a nerve with some of them.

Give 'em a good spanking, It's what they want.

What is going on!! (see the topic is started in Another NY - Straight, gay or Bi)... are all you 'gay' men being OUTed at closet Hetro's.... hey hey hey.. (shit eating grin) .....

WHERE IS PLOP.... reveal yourself!! I have this dream like the SPARTICUS movie...when someone stands up at Magique and says "I'm Plop" then someone else "I'm Plop" ..... believe me .. it will happen just hope i am sober (or not under Michael Madison) to see it.
...since I've logged on. And, now that I have, I've got some recapping to do.

How dare YOU Mrs. Plop, toy with MY emotions. You lead us all on with your eloquent writings, your detailed, possibly fabricated past and you employed near professional flirtations to wrap me in your mystery. You promise an appearance, and then FLAKE. Yes, Plop; I said flake. It's what happens when tired, old swingers can't keep using the old polyamourous excuse to hide your fears of committment. It's what happens to worn skin when you don't take Daddy's stay-young-forever beauty advise. It's what happens to genital areas when you touch Messy Bonnie in the wrong places.

So, now I see. The flakes left a trail to the answer. This is all a Plop plot. You and Messy are in on this together. Kidnapping, randsome, all to fund your disgusting love affair and your pricy addictions.

And me... Plop??? The sacrifice? The hopless romantic to be used as bait, then done away with like last night's used condoms. I see. Well, this romantic has had enough.

The Plop is pooping; the poop is droping. The Plop has dropped.

Anna, when they all stand up, "I am Plop"-ing I'll be there with you and your tectronic torpedo tits, and we'll blow the fuckers away.
Mrs Plop.... YOU WILL be revealed ...look at todays Page 6!

June 23, 2003 -- THE former security director of Plato's Retreat is shopping a tell-all book about the fabled orgy emporium frequented by the likes of Richard Dreyfuss, Jesse Ventura, Mrs Plop, Sammy Davis Jr., Rodney Dangerfield and porn king Ron Jeremy.

During his eight years standing sentry at Plato's, Michael Velez says he saw a slew of celebs at the Upper West Side swingers club, which was a fornicator's fantasyland in the late 1970s and early '80s. While most famous faces remained fully clothed, some plunged headlong into the amorous action.

John Wayne dropped by a few times and once gave Plato's regular Sammy Davis Jr. a nickel-plated .38-caliber handgun as a token of his appreciation, says Velez.

The blabbermouth bouncer claims that Madonna dropped by Plato's "semi-regularly" until another club called Nine opened in Alphabet City. After a day of shooting "Fort Apache: The Bronx" in 1981, Velez alleges that Paul Newman checked out the steamy scene. Neither of their reps returned calls for comment.
If Mrs. Plop doesn't exist, as Sweetie claims in the Poll thread, how come I got FedExed a big box of Fanny Mae chocolates from the Palmer House Hilton in Chicago just this morning, with a hand written note and glossy 8x10 of her? "Don't believe Sweetie's posts," the note urged, "she's been delusional ever since I turned her out at Sacred Yona All Girls Preparatory School and Psychocybersanitorium." Trust me, I'm telling you stories.

[This message was edited by seven on 07-01-03 at 01:49 AM.]

[This message was edited by seven on 07-01-03 at 11:43 AM.]
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For those who might want to acquaint themselves with Virgina Bonneaux aka Mrs. Plop, I am bouncing this into the present.

In case you don't know, Mrs. Plop will be appearing at the September 17 edition of Cabaret Magique:


Joining the lovely Rabbit at 12:30 is a mystery woman who rocked the very foundations of THE MOTHERBOARDS (our vibrant virtual community) this past Summer.

With these words, the mysterious MRS. PLOP appeared: "My name is Virginia. I am sure I am many years the senior of most of you, but I am like a girl in my heart. I enjoy the luxury of retirement. My career(s) were that of a Hostess in the VIP quarters of a swank Las Vegas, Nevada casino... My only real show business endeavor was demonstrating microwave ovens in Macy's Housewares department before many of you were born. I had a script I performed and wore a beautiful gold lame' gown provided by my employer. I am a single, never married woman who became very involved in Plato's Retreat on the upper west side of New York City... I am a
champion of animals and am the mother of a 13 year old toy poodle Tinkerbell.."

Motherboards addicts know how it all turned out, but the thought of having MRS. PLOP perform a Cabaret set was too tempting and we are THRILLED to finally host her "In The Flesh" for a monologue tonight!

#9 AVENUE A at First Street

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