Saturday, December 06, 2003
Don't believe me? Ask me again.
It's lunchtime, and where am I? That's right. Not at lunch. Because I am dedicated to bringing you the freak every single (and by "single," i mean "other") day. It may cost me my life, or a hundred dollars, or my very soul and a piece of gum, but I will freak up your day at any cost, including festooning myself with orchids and splattering the walls of my room with liver paste, if (heaven forbid) it should ever come to that. Once a monk came up to me while i was scuba diving and asked me to join his monastic order, which promises all its members the power to fly, the latest and most stylish imported loose-fitting robes, and a lifetime subscription to the Nachos of the Month club. Needless to say, I was quite drawn to the idea, but the first thing that came out of my mouth was, "blub blub blub." The first thing that came out of my mouth after I was out of the water was, "Will it interfere with my sacred day-freaking duties?" He replied, "Do not worry about that. Your responsibility is only to yourself, and the days of your readers are not your concern, be they freaked up or not." When he uttered that sentence, I knew he was a messenger of evil, and so I punched him. Just as I suspected, he said something to the effect of "How dare you punch a messenger of evil!" and walked off in a huff. Triumphant, i treated myself to a five gallon slushie.
The freaking up of your day IS my responsibility, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
(a side note: the collaborative post by Isral and me is still coming; the delay is due to the time zone change between the Central Time Zone and a different part of the Central Time Zone.)
It's lunchtime, and where am I? That's right. Not at lunch. Because I am dedicated to bringing you the freak every single (and by "single," i mean "other") day. It may cost me my life, or a hundred dollars, or my very soul and a piece of gum, but I will freak up your day at any cost, including festooning myself with orchids and splattering the walls of my room with liver paste, if (heaven forbid) it should ever come to that. Once a monk came up to me while i was scuba diving and asked me to join his monastic order, which promises all its members the power to fly, the latest and most stylish imported loose-fitting robes, and a lifetime subscription to the Nachos of the Month club. Needless to say, I was quite drawn to the idea, but the first thing that came out of my mouth was, "blub blub blub." The first thing that came out of my mouth after I was out of the water was, "Will it interfere with my sacred day-freaking duties?" He replied, "Do not worry about that. Your responsibility is only to yourself, and the days of your readers are not your concern, be they freaked up or not." When he uttered that sentence, I knew he was a messenger of evil, and so I punched him. Just as I suspected, he said something to the effect of "How dare you punch a messenger of evil!" and walked off in a huff. Triumphant, i treated myself to a five gallon slushie.
The freaking up of your day IS my responsibility, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
(a side note: the collaborative post by Isral and me is still coming; the delay is due to the time zone change between the Central Time Zone and a different part of the Central Time Zone.)
