Quickly, Mr. Wells! Into my falcon-shaped aircraft!
On the Interstate this morning something like a train whistle kept sounding. Where the hell was a train whistle coming from? It got to the point where I was watching my rearview. By the time I got into DM proper, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a steam driven ghost train barrelling up the middle lane, tossing cars willius nillius over the edge of 235, into the slums below.
A fun game would be to play tag with those CLEAR!!! defibrilator paddles. The only tags that count are the ones to the chest that send you flying backward into a pile of oily rags.
As most of you know, I’m currently in northern Central America looking for the lost Mayan city of gold. (This is not to be confused with the old TV show, Mysterious Cities of Gold, which is but one item in my large research satchel of primary sources.) I proposed a 50/50 split of costs and rewards with Dave, as he has sway with the elusive and beautiful sniper Fiona X, but he was too busy going to Cedar Falls on the wrong day and eating frozen Snickers bars.
Damn you, Fiona X! Will you ever return my love?!
During my PMI (Post-Marie Infatuation Period) and prior to my OBRWS (Occasionally Bizarre Relationship with Shalina Period) I said that I would only relinquish the golden amulet of singleness to a rich, hot Egyptologist with tentacles in the publishing world. Now I would be willing to give it up to anyone with tentacles, period.
Here is a brief anecdote from the OBRWS Period. You are familiar with Shalina’s mother? Good. I knew you were (you pervert). After our relationship detonated in a blaze of mediocraty and Goathead-related oral shenanigans, Shalina and I continued to hang out. Sometimes I would go to her trailer house to watch a movie. The trailer looked something like this:
(there once was a crude map here, made of X's and other keyboard symbols, but it did not survive formatting. Alas.)
This is a very rough and crude and dirty illustration, but it will give you an idea of the layout (I have been told that it was the same design as the Heather Perry family trailer, but because of the disorienting effects of Dalmations, I have no idea what the inside of the Perry trailer looks like. Except that there used to be an N64. This I know. And a large living room. And a kitchen. And generally, it looked a little nicer than Shalina’s, although you’d be surprised how nice those things can look on the inside. Wait! I think Shalina’s trailer was bigger? Perhaps? I think Heather occasionally reads this blog, so maybe she can shame me with an expert opinion).
In the map, the “9” represents a jazz bassist playing a funky groove, because that is where Shalina’s bedroom was. The “M” is her mother’s recliner (her mother is reminescent of Meagan's mother, vaguely), and the “!” is the location of a map leading to the lost Mayan city of gold.
So: on the day in question, I was lead to Shalina’s bedroom to watch a movie. I do not know what movie this was, but possibly it was that Kevin Bacon movie about the kid who kill a little girl and bury her in the backyard. Briefly into the movie, her mother bellows:
“You two don’t need to be wallerin around on that bed in there!”
Which was probably supposed to be a quiet instruction to her daughter, but was not.
Morgan and I will now be partnering up to open a liquor/books store. The primary feature of this store will be the package deals: for example, $25 will get you a Tolstoy and a bottle of vodka; Faulkner can come with whiskey. All relationship self-help books will come with a large flask of grain alcohol, to be consumed upon failure. Ryan and Andy and Martin are also creative associates, but because I do not remember how enthusiastic they were exactly, they are cut out of the store charter and also out of my will. In fact, they are dead to me. If you mention their names in my presence you will surely be punched in your lying throat.
Dave, however, is not dead to me. Dave is undead to me. Which means he can still help me find those mysterious cities of gold.
A fun game would be to play tag with those CLEAR!!! defibrilator paddles. The only tags that count are the ones to the chest that send you flying backward into a pile of oily rags.
As most of you know, I’m currently in northern Central America looking for the lost Mayan city of gold. (This is not to be confused with the old TV show, Mysterious Cities of Gold, which is but one item in my large research satchel of primary sources.) I proposed a 50/50 split of costs and rewards with Dave, as he has sway with the elusive and beautiful sniper Fiona X, but he was too busy going to Cedar Falls on the wrong day and eating frozen Snickers bars.
Damn you, Fiona X! Will you ever return my love?!
During my PMI (Post-Marie Infatuation Period) and prior to my OBRWS (Occasionally Bizarre Relationship with Shalina Period) I said that I would only relinquish the golden amulet of singleness to a rich, hot Egyptologist with tentacles in the publishing world. Now I would be willing to give it up to anyone with tentacles, period.
Here is a brief anecdote from the OBRWS Period. You are familiar with Shalina’s mother? Good. I knew you were (you pervert). After our relationship detonated in a blaze of mediocraty and Goathead-related oral shenanigans, Shalina and I continued to hang out. Sometimes I would go to her trailer house to watch a movie. The trailer looked something like this:
(there once was a crude map here, made of X's and other keyboard symbols, but it did not survive formatting. Alas.)
This is a very rough and crude and dirty illustration, but it will give you an idea of the layout (I have been told that it was the same design as the Heather Perry family trailer, but because of the disorienting effects of Dalmations, I have no idea what the inside of the Perry trailer looks like. Except that there used to be an N64. This I know. And a large living room. And a kitchen. And generally, it looked a little nicer than Shalina’s, although you’d be surprised how nice those things can look on the inside. Wait! I think Shalina’s trailer was bigger? Perhaps? I think Heather occasionally reads this blog, so maybe she can shame me with an expert opinion).
In the map, the “9” represents a jazz bassist playing a funky groove, because that is where Shalina’s bedroom was. The “M” is her mother’s recliner (her mother is reminescent of Meagan's mother, vaguely), and the “!” is the location of a map leading to the lost Mayan city of gold.
So: on the day in question, I was lead to Shalina’s bedroom to watch a movie. I do not know what movie this was, but possibly it was that Kevin Bacon movie about the kid who kill a little girl and bury her in the backyard. Briefly into the movie, her mother bellows:
“You two don’t need to be wallerin around on that bed in there!”
Which was probably supposed to be a quiet instruction to her daughter, but was not.
Morgan and I will now be partnering up to open a liquor/books store. The primary feature of this store will be the package deals: for example, $25 will get you a Tolstoy and a bottle of vodka; Faulkner can come with whiskey. All relationship self-help books will come with a large flask of grain alcohol, to be consumed upon failure. Ryan and Andy and Martin are also creative associates, but because I do not remember how enthusiastic they were exactly, they are cut out of the store charter and also out of my will. In fact, they are dead to me. If you mention their names in my presence you will surely be punched in your lying throat.
Dave, however, is not dead to me. Dave is undead to me. Which means he can still help me find those mysterious cities of gold.
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