This post sat in my Drafts folder for more than a year ‘cuz I’m a chicken who generally prefers to avoid spending time in internet debates on contentious topics. But now I’m trying to clean up my Drafts folders, so here it is.

A couple days before Martin Luther King Jr. day, a skeptic friend of mine posted this on Facebook:

You can watch the short video here:

The video was popular on Reddit and was reposted often on Facebook for MLK Day, but I didn’t know that yet. I generally love Morgan Freeman, but he missed it on this one, so I made a quick comment on the thread on Saturday night. (Also, pretentious video title! Like no one’s had that idea before… *sigh*)

I opened my e-mail on Sunday morning to find a significant number of replies. So I ended up responding to a few comments (apparently by white guys) crankily before my brain even had the benefit of morning caffeine. Hey, my previous points were described by one commenter as “whiny liberal bullshit”! Here’s the conversation:

JL: he is the man!

DD: I so want to by that man a beer

JK: I don’t think I can agree with the premise that the way to stop racism is to “stop talking about it.” I understand that he feels being singled out for the purposes of diversity is still be singled out, which is bad. In an ideal world, the institutional racism that made educational efforts like black history month necessary would not exist. But as far as I know, we don’t live in that world.

Me:  I wish I could agree with Freeman here. But we don’t solve institutional racism and racial bias by pretending it doesn’t exist; we don’t fix sexism in the skeptic community by pretending it doesn’t exist; we don’t overcome bias and bigotry in the world we have by pretending there is no bias and bigotry.

JL: well fix it by teaching the truth an we are all human!

JH: Such a great man, such a simplistic view unfortunately. It is a shame it isn’t this simple, hopefully one day it will be

PT: Great video. I wish this were kept more in mind.

No one who harps on “institutional racism” has ever made, or will ever make, progress on race relations. It’s a call for boring whininess and self-defeatism that will never get us anywhere.

Case in point is Debbie on this thread. Apparently she believes that there is institutional sexism in the skeptical community, and she needs to bring it up in a thread on race in America. Seems that there’s no end to whiny liberal bullshit.

But I know, I’m “privileged” – a bullshit term that’s just as dumb as “institutional racism.”

Btw – is the Center for Inquiry now just a silly left-wing echo chamber?

DH: I remember seeing this on 60 minutes and saying “That’s effing Brilliant!”

Yes, there’s racism, and there always will be, to some extent, because humans are tribal creatures. But this constant harping on Race Race Race creates problems where there were none. Too many people are super sensitized, always looking and listening for any little thing they can interpret as racism. People like Jessie Jackson and Al Sharpton pad their wallets while teaching generations of blacks that everything bad in the world is all whitey’s fault, and The Man is keeping them down. This becomes a self-fulfilling prophesy.

It’s one thing to say “I’m not going to take any crap.” It’s quite another to spend your life looking for crap not to take.

Me: Whoa whoa whoa, PT!

- “No one who harps on ‘institutional racism” has ever made…progress on race relations.” Harps is a fantastically loaded term. Also, I disagree with you. People who “harp on” it call into question things like racial profiling by police officers in NYC, who pull over people of color much more often than whites. Cops have also responded with amazingly unnecessary levels of violence when they assume that people of color have weapons, which has led to jaw-dropping shooting deaths by the police. That’s bias and institutional racism. The people taking about it (“harping on” it), calling the systems into question, and demanding change are helping it change.

- “boring whininess” is a phrase that I’m tempted to dismiss as likely coming from a place of privilege. Perhaps you don’t see a need for change because you aren’t confronted personally by some of the problems of institutional racism? Just speculation on my part. I’m not sure why else you’d use the phrase. If someone kept talking about the lack of wheelchair ramps in my town, but I didn’t ever need to use them and didn’t give a hoot, I might dismiss their perspective as “boring whininess” too. Well, actually, I wouldn’t, because I’m not a jerk.

- I never used the phrase “institutional sexism” re: skeptical community. I said “sexism.” And yes, I think there’s sexism in the skeptical community. A good number of women have reported being the recipients of sexist behavior. Are they *mistaken* and incorrect? Are you dismissing their experiences as irrelevant? Or perhaps their numbers are irrelevant to you?

- I am a liberal. I like liberty. I like equal rights. I want things to change for the better. It’s not a dirty word to me.

- The discussion was about race, so I brought up another example of biased behavior, then “zoomed out” to the broader categories. That’s not an unusual way to comment on a topic; in fact, I think it’s very effective. To me, that’s not hijacking the conversation by bringing up another example of bias that a lot of people who are DC’s FB friends would be familiar with. I think perhaps you are sensitive to the topic of sexism in the skeptical community.

- “Privileged” is not a bullshit term. Your saying that it is leads me to believe that you don’t know what it means but think you do.

- It’s funny that you’d accuse CFI of being a left-wing echo chamber. Where have you been? Many skeptics and atheists in the last couple of weeks have accused CFI of being sexist and run by an “old guard” of white men who don’t care about feminism or social issues. Look at the posts on Pharyngula and Almost Diamonds about Ben Radford’s views, for example (from around Jan. 2–3). In fact, people were threatening to withhold support from CFI for hosting a “sexist” “MRA”. It can’t be both—CFI can’t be both a liberal echo chamber and a conservative out-of-touch sexist org. Geez. So I’ll say this: no, it’s clearly not a “silly left-wing echo chamber.” There are lots of people with lots of different views. You may be ignorant of that.

DC: I am just a silly white guy, who has never been on the ‘winning’ side in politics.

Strangely, there were no further responses. I shared the thread on Facebook and got some positive head-swelling responses (and 21 Likes!):

DA: I propose that we start saying “You got Goddarded!” when people are wrong and are told really clearly and reasonably what the truth is. And they don’t respond because the counter-argument was so good.

SK: and when we reflect on the incident later, among peers, we can say, ” ’twas a Goddarding what subdued the uprising…”

KW: Is it possible to digitize Debbie? I could use a Debbie for my facebook debates.

TM: That would be an interesting idea for an application – and could be a great way to share the Goddarding meme with the world.

AC: ‎@KW, if you’re debating via FB chat, just type in [[debgod42]]!

Validation, weeeee! Sometimes it’s nice to have friends who agree with my occasional outbursts of “whiny liberal bullshit.”

This is not to say that I don’t think race and discrimination are tricky multifaceted issues. I do. But I get massively frustrated by the whole “If we ignore it, the problem is solved” perspective. Give me a break! We’re people. We don’t live in that kind of dreamland. We skeptics and non-believers sometimes describe ourselves as members of the “reality-based” community. Well, reality and history show us that when good people practice race-blindness, it  doesn’t decrease racism; it just makes it impossible to see, difficult to quantify, and impossible to change.

Debbie Goddard
English

It was really hard for me to learn how to swim. Some people are born swimmers. I wasn’t. I sank like a rock.
Once I slipped and fell and hit my head. It was very tireing. The next day I couldn’t sink!

(See a previous post for background on these.)

This is kind of true. I never learned how to swim when I was a kid, and I still can’t swim well. There wasn’t a community pool in my Philadelphia neighborhood, and there were no relatives in the ‘burbs with a pool. We had access to the motel’s pool when we lived in Kansas in the summer and visited the pool at McGuire Air Force Base in NJ a few times, but that was it.

I used to jump up and splash around in the pool at McGuire, pretending I was swimming, but I was afraid to put my head under the water. Once, though, I slipped while jumping, and I ended up banging the bottom of the pool hard. I was stunned for a moment and didn’t move, but then I slowly, slowly floated up to the surface. It was a revelation to me—that without doing anything at all, I wouldn’t drown, I’d float! This changed my whole pool experience. I soon realized I’m damn good at floating. I think I’m relatively buoyant because I’m so fat.

On the other hand, the physics of moving one’s body through the water with any sort of ease or efficiency…not so good at that. When I’m swimming at the gym I eventually travel from one side of the pool to the other, but it’s so obvious that I’m poor at it that lifeguards keep an eye on me to make sure I’m not drowning. (Sometimes I’m tempted to tell them that I’m recovering from a shoulder injury or something so they stop thinking I suck.) Additionally, the mechanics of freestyle are a mystery to me. Kicking, moving both arms, turning one’s head, and breathing, all at once? I can get three of those going at a time, but not all four.

Maybe I should resolve to practice swimming this year? Okay! It’s a good day for it.

New Year’s Resolution: Practice swimming at least once a month. Bam.

I found copies of the story below when I was cleaning out my dad’s house last year. (Describing him as a “hoarder” is understatement.) I think I wrote it in sixth grade or so.

“They see us rollin’. They hatin’.”

My family was relatively poor when I was a kid—welfare, food stamps, hand-me-down clothing, and chewed-up or broken toys from the Salvation Army were the norm. That wasn’t unusual in my neighborhood. But I was painfully aware from the commercials on TV and the stories from classmates that this was not how some kids lived, and I was envious. So, so envious. I dreamt of unwrapping the most incredible gifts on Christmas morning: remote-controlled cars, Rubik’s Cubes, Easy Bake Ovens, cameras, Lego space sets, Power Wheels…Omg, Power Wheels! I’d be the most stuntin’ Power Wheels driver EVER. I’d win Power Wheels competitions! Everyone would admire my amazing Power Wheels skills. If only I had a Power Wheels truck, I knew my life would be THE BEST. Such were my covetous Walter Mitty dreams.

But we never got much of anything for Christmas. One year, my sisters and I each received a Dollar Store-quality bronze bracelet. Another year, my dad gave me three packs of bubble gum (Hubba Bubba and Bubblicious brands, in blueberry, watermelon, and grape). I don’t know if the fact that he was Jewish had anything to do with our meager Christmases, and it didn’t really matter. All I knew was that for all of my hopes and nearly-tangible wishes of presents under our little plastic tree, we weren’t getting any of the things I saw on TV and in store windows, the things I imagined other little kids got for Christmas, because we were poor.

I wrote the story for some class assignment after I grew out of the worst of the covetous-little-kid phase. Here it is, transcribed, errors and all.

The Boy that Santa Forgot
by Debbie Goddard

At 2406 Tyler Street, no happiness was found. Michael, who was only seven years old, felt miserable. He just found he would not get any presents this Christmas. At first he wasn’t surprised because, in the area he lived in, nobody ever got presents except for a few lucky people. After all, when you live in the slums, presents are few.

Michael asked his mom for breakfast the next morning. He received the typical toast and piece of cheese with a cup of water. He felt like he could use more, but he ignored the feeling. His family lived on food stamps. There was no more food to be found. After breakfast he just took a nap. There was nothing else to do.

On Christmas Eve he became angry again. Why couldn’t even receive a … anything! He wished so hard that night that he could receive any little thing at all.

The next morning when he awoke he found a dollar underneath his pillow. He knew his mom had placed it there. He thought of all the wonderful things he could buy. A dollar was a lot! Suddenly, all in a rush, it came to him that his mother had to give up many things to give him the dollar. He marched into his mother’s room and selflessly gave it to her. She hugged him and cried. He knew the real meaning of Christmas was not to share presents, but to share love.

The End

It’s been a while since I felt compelled to try getting a good cheesesteak in the Buffalo area, but after jonesing hard for a tasty sandwich this week, it was time to make another attempt. A coworker today suggested I try the sandwiches at Elmwood Taco & Subs, just a few minutes from my apartment, so I stopped by on the way home from work tonight.

What a mistake that was. Let’s start at the beginning.

Elmwood Taco & Subs is a Buffalo restaurant that’s been open for over 35 years. Because they’re in a hip district with college bars around, they stay open late, and a lot of people know them as a place to get food when you’re drunk. I’ve been told that their tacos are better than those from Mighty Taco, a Buffalo regional staple, but I was on the hunt for a different kind of food this evening.

So I went into the joint and was asked by the very friendly fellow at the counter for my order before I had a chance to scan the wall menu. I said, “Hi! I’m looking for a cheesesteak.” He laughed—not a good sign, but it made me laugh too. He said, “We have two Philly-style subs, the ‘All The Way’ with the mushrooms, peppers, and onions, and the normal one which just comes plain with the lettuce and tomato.”

I was…well, I didn’t know what to say to this strange idea of a “plain” Philly sub coming with lettuce and tomato, so I asked, “What about onions?”

“You can add onions to it if you want. And if you want us to ‘hoagify’ it—well, that’s what I call it, but they don’t use the word ‘hoagie’ here, then we can give it to you without the lettuce and tomatoes.”

“To…hoagify it?” I laughed again, so he laughed too.

“Yeah, it’s like a plain sub with just meat and cheese, but we don’t really call it that here.”

“Heh, okay.” I was game to continue the discussion, but someone got in line behind me so I placed my order. “Let me get a ‘Philly steak sub’ with just meat, cheese, and fried onions.”

“You don’t want lettuce or tomato?”
“Ha, no.”
“White or wheat?”
“White.”
“Oil or mayo?”
“No.”
“Dry?”
“Uh, yeah. Do you usually toast the rolls?”
“Yeah, we toast all the rolls.”
“In a toaster or on the grill?”
“We put them through a toaster oven before we make the sandwich.”
“Then I don’t want mine toasted, please.”

He looked at me funny, smiled, and mumbled while punching register buttons, “Dry…no lettuce or tomato…fried onions…don’t toast.”

When my order was ready, I took it home and set the wrapped sandwich on my desk. It smelled awesome!

Then I unwrapped it.

Why is it so shiny? It was like a flashback to my face at 14. That’s oil seeping through the bread. Seeping. Through. Did they accidentally put oil on my already-greasy sandwich? I almost hoped so, because it’s a better explanation than thinking that the meat and onions came off the grill dripping that much grease.

Here’s a closer look:

I opened the sandwich up to take a better look and put ketchup on and wondered, where’s the beef? I’ve noticed before that in places where the “default” version of the “Philly cheese steak sub” comes with ingredients like peppers, mushrooms, lettuce, tomatoes, and the like, when you ask them for one with just meat and cheese (or meat, cheese, and fried onions) you end up with very little meat and very little sandwich.

  

In this case, it’s good that the standard sub rolls used in this region are so unremarkable and relatively thin; otherwise the bread might have overpowered the paltry amount of meat in this sandwich. It was a fresh roll, though, and held things together well. I don’t think it would have done as well if it had been toasted; on the other hand, there wasn’t much to hold together.

The American cheese was salty and sufficient. The onions, at least the bit that I could taste through the oiliness, were not overdone, and there was a good amount of them “beefing” up the sandwich. They were sliced thinly, which meant more caramelization on the grill.

But jesus christ, the grease. It’s hard to know how well things blended together because I was dealing with spongy oilbread and greasemeat. I’m half tempted to call the place to ask if they slipped up and put oil on this sandwich or if all their “Philly subs” are meant as GI tract lubricants.

Depressing the grease sponge made an oil pond.

Oh, I should mention: I also got a giant cookie. The friendly counter fellow saw me staring questioningly at display case’s massive “cookies” and said, “Oh, that’s ‘Jack’s Thumbprint Cookie,’ one of the specialties here. It’s named that ‘cuz the owner’s daughter came up with it, and she got big thumbs.” Well, then!

I gotta say, if you’re going to spend $3.92 including tax on a cookie, get one that weighs more than a pound.

That’s what’s left after I ate about 40% of it.

Seriously, it’s DELICIOUS. Soft without falling apart, sweet, with a balanced amount of chocolate chips. Highly recommended.

So speaking of recommendations: I still don’t know if it’s possible to get a “good cheesesteak” in Buffalo, but next time I feel like risking $9 and my arterial health on a potentially shit sandwich, I’ll try somewhere other than ETS. Maybe I will find one some day. On the other hand, this cookie is excellent and will last me a few days. And I hear the tacos at ETS are good. Eat those.

I created this blog a year ago (September 11, 2011) partly because I wanted a casual environment to practice writing in. Since last year, I’ve written twelve posts here, seven on Skepchick, and one for the CFI On Campus blog—the most I’d ever blogged, I guess, but I need to write more often.

While unpacking old boxes in my apartment last weekend, I came across my English “Morning Work” notebook from fourth grade. Interesting coincidence: the first assignment in there was written on September 11, 1989, exactly 22 years from the very day this blog was founded last year. Whoa, right?

Eraser graffito on notebook back

So it looks like back in fourth grade English class I had short assignments a few mornings a week for writing practice. (Funny that.) I laughed at a few of the entries because I recognized some aspects of my personality that are still present. I think friends and family will find them familiar too and perhaps get a kick out of these like I did, so I’m going to share the entries in a series of posts. I’ll take photos of the pages and transcribe them without correcting or changing anything, so you can see what I actually wrote. Here’s the first:

Debbie Goddard
English

Some people think I am neat but, in truth, I am sloppy. At lease that’s what I think. I probably am neat to some people and sloppy to other people.

A couple weeks ago I took the two CFI summer interns, Stef and Tony, to the classic Buffalo bar Klub Karaoke.  (Wow, that site is dated.) We had an hour to kill before Stef had to go to the bus station; a karaoke dive bar seemed like a “FUN!!” way to pass the time.

The website mentions that there’s a “69 foot” (*snicker*) chalkboard bar—with free chalk!—which is a little strange but can indeed be FUN!!1!OMGZ. The music was too loud for casual chatting, so at some point I grabbed a piece of chalk and whipped up these two quick-and-terrible portraits of the interns:

I got the mad cheezy chalk-drawing skillz, yo. Did I mention it was too dark to see well? For comparison, here’s a picture of them (and MN campus leader Sarah) I lifted from Facebook:

In case you’re curious, I did end up singing a couple songs—even though we didn’t have much time and I was fighting a phlegmy cough. I figured I couldn’t be worse than what was already going on. Really. Ow. The interns (who didn’t sing) helped select the two numbers: K-Ci and Jojo’s “All My Life” and the Guess Who’s “No Sugar Tonight/New Mother Nature.” (I almost did Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now,” but I can barely hit those notes when I don’t have a sore throat.) Good times! And I made it through without coughing up a wad of mucus, w00t.

A+++++; would do again.

Philly, yo!

Those of you who know me are probably aware that I grew up in Philadelphia and spent a few years working in a cheeseteak and hoagie shop (“The Original Steak and Hoagie II”, now closed). I take my cheesesteaks and hoagies seriously. Possibly too seriously.

As a field organizer I have the opportunity to do some traveling, and I’m often curious about what gets passed off as a cheesesteak in other cities. Inspired by a couple of epic wtf-this-is-not-a-cheesesteak experiences, I thought I’d start cataloguing some of these “Philly cheese steak subs,” or whatever it is they get called in different cities.

Primanti Bros., Pittsburgh, PA

Primanti Bros. has been recommended to me as a must-go location, an excellent representative of the Pittsburgh tradition of putting fries on sandwiches. And on salads. And, by the looks of it, on the fries. What I’m saying is that if you go there and order anything you’re probably gonna be eating fries one way or another. Oh, they also put coleslaw on the sandwiches. I guess it helps make up for the paucity of meat.

Following a CFI Institute at the University of Pittsburgh on Tuesday night, I was fortunate to end up at the Oakland Primanti Bros. location. And, what ho! Their menu has the following item: “PITTS-BURGHER CHEESE STEAK #2 best seller”. Exciting!

I asked the waitress for a brief description. She said it wasn’t her favorite. I was in the mood for something simple, so I decided to go with a different sandwich, the Roast Beef & Cheese.

Funny enough, the waitress brought out the Cheese Steak, because she’d accidentally made the wrong sandwich. She offered to make the other one, but I figured hey, why not go for it anyway? It was in front of me, it was food, and it was ostensibly a Cheese Steak.

Cheese Steak? It was a mis-take. It was terrible! The “steak” was the worst effing piece of maybe-meat that I’ve EVER had. It was like meatloaf, if meatloaf were made out of shitgrease.

I’ll break down what was going on with this sandwich. (It’s not marketed as a “Philly cheese steak,” so I wasn’t expecting one. I’m not going to evaluate it as such. Considering the theme, however, I’ll point out how it compares to cheesesteaks as I understand them.)

Bread: A “Philly cheesesteak” would be on an Italian (hoagie) roll. This was on two pieces of white bread. The bread was thick enough to keep the tomatoes from leaking through, but it wasn’t flavorful. There’s not much else that can be said about it.

Cheese: Was there cheese? I couldn’t tell. Maybe it was overwhelmed by the fries.

Steak: The worst. More like a low-quality hamburger or meatloaf patty. It was small, thin, and greasy. There’s no use comparing this to the Philly style. It’s not even useful to compare it to steak.

Extras: The sandwich came with coleslaw, fries, and tomatoes. The fries weren’t very flavorful either. We were there at the end of the night, so I’m guessing it’s likely that the fryer oil was old and dirty. The fries certainly tasted like that was the case. On the other hand, the slaw was delicious: crunchy, excellent texture, with a nice zing.

I found some other photos  from around the ‘net of the sandwich here, here, and here.

I don’t know if there are other places in Pittsburgh that follow this style or if it’s just a Primanti’s thing. And I’m not saying anything negative about the establishment in general. I enjoyed the giant beers, the service was friendly and quick, and it was a nice casual place to hang out with a group of people. If I’m in Pittsburgh again and want a slaw-and-fries sandwich with a schmear of meat to accompany my massive glasses of beer, I might dare to try a different sandwich there—maybe years and years from now when I don’t care as much to have meat on my meat sandwich. (I wasn’t surprised to learn that the sandwich was created during the Great Depression.) Otherwise, when it comes to their “#2 best seller,” ten thumbs down.

Recent pictures suggest that Justin Bieber is not a kid anymore. A few nights ago I wondered if his voice has broken yet and how that might have affected his singing—or does he still sound like a chipmunk version of Usher? Because I generally don’t give a crap about Bieber, I didn’t know, so I decided to spend some time online looking for an answer. What can I say? The Internet is great for that sort of activity.

A quick YouTube search for “justin bieber 2011″ turned up this treacly bit of holiday fluff:

Three fun facts about that video:
1) It has over 100 million views.
2) He’s really not dressed warmly enough for that weather.
3) You can sing Jason Mraz’s “I’m Yours” over the whole thing. Try it! It’s fun. (Hey, I did say that these would be “fun facts.”) Or try singing one of the million other songs that use that same four-chord progression.

My conclusion: his voice is definitely lower, but he still sounds remarkably similar to the way he sounded when I starred in that music video with him a couple of years ago. Another quick Google search shows stories about his voice changing over the past year or two. I was going to try for a tasteful puberty joke at this point, but then I learned that 4,212 people on Facebook think that the puberty jokes about Justin Bieber are so old and stupid. And when I Googled “justin bieber puberty jokes” I found some that were really mean. That harshed my jocular mood.

However, I also found this (allegedly) accidentally-mispitched Bieber video:

And I remembered the tattoo of Jesus on Bieber’s calf, and I chuckled anyway. I also learned the term “puberbiebs.” That made me laugh out loud! So not only did I find the answer I was looking for, but also I got a good laugh out of the search. The investigation was worthwhile. Thanks, Internet.

While picking up the boyfriend at the airport, I waited behind this car:

Yep, that license plate says “NEILDMND”. #1 fan, I guess?

It made me wonder if I love any band or musician enough to put their name on my license plate. I thought about that for a bit while sitting outside of the baggage claim area. I decided that the answer is no. (And why make it easier for the cops to remember my plates as I go whizzing by?)

One of the most memorable plates I saw in my life said “B8TAZED”. I also remember meeting a woman with a Florida “ATHEIST” plate on her car. What’s an interesting license plate you’ve seen or considered?

Today  I sat down at the computer to see a new IM from a potential new friend.  I didn’t recognize the screenname, but that’s not unusual. I considered briefly that it may have been from a spambot, but “mattp204″ didn’t seem like a sexbot’s screenname, so I responded. After a couple of lines, however, the text coming in turned pink and the conversation turned familiar. I gotta say—some of the responses really surprised me.

mattp204: I got you now !lol was up
CFI Debbie: ?
mattp204: hi cutie what’s up?
CFI Debbie: Just working. Do I know you?
mattp204: i hope you wanna talk to a horny gurl 2dayy…
CFI Debbie: A horny girl named Matt?
mattp204: holy shit im wet right now, i got some toys…plz watch me play? I like when guys tell me what to do..
CFI Debbie: Then you’re barking up the wrong tree.
mattp204: i’m a lil busyy right noww, i just gott a new computer so im trying to set my webcam up..
CFI Debbie: Are you a spambot?
mattp204: if i was a bot ..why would i be wearing this hat?? lolz
CFI Debbie: I admit, that’s the best response I’ve ever gotten.
CFI Debbie: What hat?
CFI Debbie: Tell me more about the hat.
mattp204: lol iim kind of a webcam freak i guess you call it a fetish =x
CFI Debbie: What color is the hat?
mattp204: do you wanna watch me? well you arent a kid are yaa?..
CFI Debbie: you arent a bot are yaa?..
mattp204: Ok, now you really lost me?? bot???
CFI Debbie: Yeah! I think you’re a script automatically answering my questions based on keywords. And you’re going to ask me to go to a website and put in my credit card information to make sure I’m over 18 (although it’s free!) so that I can ostensibly watch “mattp204″, a “horny gurl”, on a webcam. So I’d like to know more about this hat you’re wearing.
mattp204: im wearing almost nothing lol
CFI Debbie: Except for a hat?
mattp204: ok.. welllll im gonna show you as long as you dont mind
CFI Debbie: Let’s try to stay focused here, mattp204. What color is your hat?
mattp204: alright!.. go here http://twurl.nl/43t5sd once it loads click the green “Accept Invite” button on the left, its 100% free to join you just need to verify that you are over 18 ;p
CFI Debbie: Well, that’s a surprise.
mattp204: if you cumm 2 watch me ill do whatever you want hope you like a freaky girl cause i can get freaky! =x
CFI Debbie: How old are you?
mattp204: i use this website to play on cam that way i cant be recorded!…this site doesn’t allow people to record my cam! ;p
CFI Debbie: I can’t go.
mattp204: credit card is just to verify you’re of age, u get in for free thru my cam session invite since I’m a premium member, but u need to verify that ur over 18 babe just click the green “Accept Invite” on the left
CFI Debbie: Frankly, I’m not interested. I only wanted to know about your hat.
mattp204: suit yourself… ur prob a virgin anyways… peace!
CFI Debbie: Ooo, burn…
mattp204: let me know if you need help getting signed up..i’ll brb i want to slip into something sexxyy for you..k?
CFI Debbie: I was a virgin for a long time, mattp204.
mattp204: im the girl in the pics..
CFI Debbie: I’ve never had sex with a woman.
mattp204: all womaan here baby
CFI Debbie: Why is your name Matt?
mattp204: Ashlee
CFI Debbie: How old are you?
mattp204: k
CFI Debbie: If I ask anything else, you’re going to say something like “Hurry up, I’m sooo wet 4 u bbabe omg lolz”, right?
mattp204: mhhm nice and wet lol
CFI Debbie: Well, I have work to do that doesn’t involve “Ashlee,” so I’m going to bring this to a close. Consider me a virgin. Peace!
mattp204: are u in babe??
CFI Debbie: If you can’t tell, something’s wrong, ha! Bye, Ashlee.
CFI Debbie: BYE
mattp204: okay hope to see you soon xoxoxoxo :-*