Friday, March 03, 2006

Indigestation

My Family Crest After having looked everywhere for the other half of the BFF neck ornament I had purchased for my "sig" and coming up on Empty, I began to fret. How could I have been so careless? How could I ever make it up to her? Draing told me to try to remember the last place I saw it.
RunStop
Eureka, Missouri! The last place that I saw it was on the hotdog I was eating. I had it draped around my neck just like a Best Friend (one of a pair that lasts forever) should have done, and, it had flopped into the layers of sustenence surrounding the puppy. However, I believe now that I might have consumed it on accident. Can you blame me, though? The Hot Dog was Chicago style. Decadence!
Hot Dog!
It was a hearty lunch to be sure.

Now, I need to decide how to handle this. Truth or Fiction? Seeing as I'm a role model and all, I have no choice but for the truth. The truth is always right, unless you are discussing how a woman looks, of course. But, how shall I "spin" this as your politicians are known to do. I must gestate this idea.
404
Bah! Who would think that my greatest adversary would be my own desire to sustain myself! Now shadowQueen23's neckace is truly alone...

...wait...

or maybe unique?

Yes, she has a one of a kind BFF necklace! I need supporting arguments, post-haste! Um, I injested my half so... that... it will be with me always... Yes. Elegant? Check. Logical? Check. Perfect? Of course.
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Thursday, March 02, 2006

Sickness, Self-Inflicted

Draing's Favorite Grade Well, Eemos, shadowQueen23 and I went out for for Mardi Gras. I can tell you that the bare-chested antics came out way before the booze, so you can imagine what followed. He started to look a little sickly around the end of the night. I'd say that his color was almost yellowish with little blue-green veins popping out all over his face. At one point, he excused himself and ran-walk to the nearest bathroom.


Boy, he couldn't get there fast enough.

He spent the rest of the evening singing into the porcelain microphone. If you thought his battle cry was bad, you should hear his sick sounds. Bleh. At least now I know that the E on his chest stands for Expel.
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Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Fat Twosday

My Family Crest I have just recently been made aware of your Mardi Gras holiday. I'm to understand that the females of your species request the deposit of magical beads onto their persons by the males of your species. How do they initiate this transaction? They liberate their mammory glands from whatever containment device into which they were fastened.
Beadwork
Do not stare directly at my "pecs".

This is a feat most worthy of bead-dispersal, as I have oft-observed shadowQueen23 removing her keipumfrumfloppen from underneath her ninja shozoku. I can only imagine the dexterity statistic necessary to successfully complete this process; I'd wager that it is at least in the high teens if not 20 outright. Had Houdini possessed the agility required to implement this skill, might he have avoided his aquatic end?

I needed to procure some of these adornments to study their monetary, magical and/or technological attributes. (Here I am speaking about the beads, not the glands. I am most scholarly in their benefits). Therefore, I began "flashing" my mountainous pectorals to anyone who was unable to shield themselves from my masculinity onslaught. A curious thing happened, then however; I was not assaulted with beads.
Pennies from Heaven
I'm singing in the r-egg-n

Eggs were the chosen projectile instead. This was curious as my affinity for your planet's self-sustaining chicken embryos is well-documented. I felt like your Tim Robbins character after having escaped Shawshank Prison via the Hepititus-B Tunnel of Intestinal Evacuation, and then stood laughing; arms raised to the heavens in a shower of freedom. But, then the melancholy peppered my thoughts with grief as I remembered the fragile nature of the egg. I was a sad clown.

Having gathered up all of the slimy fragments, I shed a tear for each lost, flavorful opportunity. But then I decided to look on the Sunny-Side-Up-Side of life such that if you are given 300 broken eggs, you should make an omelette worthy of giant, simian consumption. In this case, I was the simian, and boy-howdy, did I consummate some consumption.
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Tuesday, February 28, 2006

A Full Johnar Eclipse

My Family Crest While building a school (bare-handed) for the nomadic tribes of western Badasery, a curious thing happened to me. I was raising the trellis crossbeams, and the day seemed to transition to dusk quite suddenly. As I knew my architectural aptitude would not have failed me in this scheduling sense, I knew something must have been amiss.

I turned around to check the position of what I believed to be the noonday Sun only to see a great, white dome of skull, skin and anger. I could only barely discern the diminishing corona of my favorite celestial body behind that immense, marble crown.
Shaking with anger
Everyone has to have a catchphrase.

I was face to ... navel with the Big Crazy John. At least, I could see what I thought was his navel. ...what with the whole blotting out of the Sun thing going on. His abdominal muscles were like speed bumps; each one casting its own, distinct shadow upon the ground. His feats were the stuff of legends... that you tell your offspring to prevent them from staying out too late at night. Actually, even his feet were legendary. He was known to puncture dictionaries with his arboureous middle toe.

I steeled myself against the almost certain blizzard of hand strikes, and all I could witness was the great crevace in his face beginning to open. What would emerge? A deafening scream? Flaming Spittle? Noxious Gas?

"Do you know how to get to the beach?" was what bellowed forth.

Stunned, I could only respond with the paltry, "Follow the sounds of the crashing waves." That answer seemed to pacify him as he let loose a blustery, "WOO!" and turned to follow his ears. He strode off into the distance; each footfall leaving a cavernous crater in the ground from whence unearthed creatures would scurry. And, the land was at peace once again.
Leaving his mark
Standing in the footsteps of giants

Sometimes, violence isn't the answer. And, did you know? Those tribespeople didn't even utilize the school. How shortsighted of them.
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Monday, February 27, 2006

Trading Spaces

My Family Crest You, the reader, may be wondering how I was able to fortify your planet with my presence. Let me enlighten you. World 1-2 exists on the opposite side of the Sun in relation to Earth.

The Sun obscures my homeworld from your scientists. World 1-2 follows the exact same orbit as this planet and even our year is almost exactly the same length; chronologically troublesome quarter-day and all. However, since World 1-2 is superior in every way to your planet, our revolution occurs in exactly 365.25 days as opposed to your impossible to remember 365.242somesuch days. We endeavor to pause the travel of our planet on what you call February 29th, so that we remain in complete obscurity to Earth. Or as you are known to us, World 1-1.
Walkin on the Sun
He's got a sunburn

Yes, I'm going to share a dirty little secret with you. Earth exists as a training world. Don't feel bad. After all, not everyone can be a big fish in a small pond. Your species is free to bumble about without the threat of real opposition such as enemies with shields that must be broken before they are defeated. Besides, how would one be able to measure the grandeur of World 1-2 without something less grand like World 1-1 with which to compare it?

After mastering all forms of combat, debate, mockery and romantic relations on World 1-2, I decided that it was time to "slum it" as the saying goes. I endeavored to leave World 1-2, and see if I could help out the novices here attain some level of status. So, I held my breath, jumped into the air, escaped World 1-2's gravity, waited 182 days and eventually collided with Earth. You may thank me later.
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