Reverend Conehead
Well-Known Member
- Messages
- 9,953
- Reaction score
- 11,862
I've never been more frustrated. As you know, it's been my goal to time travel back to 1965 France to date the young Catherine Deneuve. In my efforts, I've spent time in 1965 BC chased by a cave women, time in 1965 AD trapped under ice in Antarctica, and a very brief time at 40,000 feet pummeling toward the Earth in 1965 AD France.
So I tried again. This time I actually made it to 1965 France on the ground and I even saw Catherine Deneuve, but it was a disaster. As you know, I can't time this down to the second. I can only hit within about a 2-week window. My time machine is small. It's metalic and about the size of one of those port-a-potties that you see at construction sites. I had installed a new system to track Deneuve and make it more likely that when I materialized back in time, I would be near her. Well, that worked ... a little too well. When I materialized, it was inside some kind of women's locker room where she and a bunch of other sexy women were changing. I don't know if she was in some kind of pageant or award show, but when I opened the door to my time machine and stepped out, all these women were there in various stages of undress and they all screamed. Before I knew it some muscle-bound security guard was dragging me out of there while I was yelling, "But my time machine." I didn't even think to switch to French yet. When I did switch over, I yelled, "J'ai besoin de voyager dans le temps !" (I need to time travel.) It still didn't help. I ended up locked up in a French jail.
Fortunately, he rival, Brigitte Bardot, must have really hated her. She bailed me out of jail and helped me find the impound lot where they had my time machine. Those jerks had let its battery run way down, so I had to scrounge up some cables and jump start it from a 1963 Renault that was also impounded there.
So at least I made it back, but sheesh! This is the most trouble I've ever gone through to date one particular woman and I still have nothing to show from it. What's more, if I go back, she'll probably remember me as the creep who peeped at her in her locker room. If I go back, I'll have to make sure it's before that incident, but who knows if we have a sixth sense that is impervious to time that lets us sense that we've already met someone.
I know you'll be shocked, but I'm actually considering throwing in the towel on this one. Enough is enough. But then again, this has been my life-long dream. Should I keep trying? Then again, the positive interaction with Brigitte Bardot makes me wonder if she's the one I should actually be dating in 1960s France. I'm curious to your opinion. Thanks.
So I tried again. This time I actually made it to 1965 France on the ground and I even saw Catherine Deneuve, but it was a disaster. As you know, I can't time this down to the second. I can only hit within about a 2-week window. My time machine is small. It's metalic and about the size of one of those port-a-potties that you see at construction sites. I had installed a new system to track Deneuve and make it more likely that when I materialized back in time, I would be near her. Well, that worked ... a little too well. When I materialized, it was inside some kind of women's locker room where she and a bunch of other sexy women were changing. I don't know if she was in some kind of pageant or award show, but when I opened the door to my time machine and stepped out, all these women were there in various stages of undress and they all screamed. Before I knew it some muscle-bound security guard was dragging me out of there while I was yelling, "But my time machine." I didn't even think to switch to French yet. When I did switch over, I yelled, "J'ai besoin de voyager dans le temps !" (I need to time travel.) It still didn't help. I ended up locked up in a French jail.
Fortunately, he rival, Brigitte Bardot, must have really hated her. She bailed me out of jail and helped me find the impound lot where they had my time machine. Those jerks had let its battery run way down, so I had to scrounge up some cables and jump start it from a 1963 Renault that was also impounded there.
So at least I made it back, but sheesh! This is the most trouble I've ever gone through to date one particular woman and I still have nothing to show from it. What's more, if I go back, she'll probably remember me as the creep who peeped at her in her locker room. If I go back, I'll have to make sure it's before that incident, but who knows if we have a sixth sense that is impervious to time that lets us sense that we've already met someone.
I know you'll be shocked, but I'm actually considering throwing in the towel on this one. Enough is enough. But then again, this has been my life-long dream. Should I keep trying? Then again, the positive interaction with Brigitte Bardot makes me wonder if she's the one I should actually be dating in 1960s France. I'm curious to your opinion. Thanks.
You can look dat up. It's not a pretty picture.
