I just thought that I would let you know that I am taking off for this week of spring break to the Bahamas until the 7th, so don't expect any posts. I can also account for Stuart not posting, as he will be in Florida and doesn't have the consideration to mention it.
i've rediscovered television; and come to the conclusion that it's slightly more fun than wet socks. [only slightly.] granted, there are still a few gems left on the small screen, such as the simpsons, that show where you get to see real life surgery, and martha stewart. i have always been a fan of the discovery channel, as well.
the other day, as i was taking time out from creating masterpieces and reading great literature, i flipped through the channels to find a show on capturing snakes in india. picture a lot of indians poking a pile of dirt with big sticks, and shouting in their native language. lucky for me, there were captions:
Canada does not "have" said networks, they are American Networks that have affiliate stations in Canada that broadcast them. The decisions to run said shows were made at American board meeetings, by American business execs, primarily based on American audiences.
The statement about the Rockies is a matter of opinion, but I'm pretty confident that I am qualified to make a judgment based on the fact that I have skied and snowboarded both, and there is no comparison.
And their last leader was highly respected by the majority his constituents, unlike Mr. Bush, whose life would not be worth two cents in the hands of 49.9 percent of Americans.
I know it was one of you. And I just have to know. Because, I think it is... the most beautiful thing... I have ever witnessed. I just want to congradulate and THANK the creator of Friend Bear for making my life complete.
Now I know I have no authority over anyone, but damnit Floyd, it is not okay to like Canadians. I mean Jesus, they are worthless in every way. They can't exchange money or do any math at all. They do, in fact, have Survivor and other shows like that in Canada, as they have all the major networks that we do like CBS and ABC. Their snowboarding has nothing on our Rockies. And finally, they flat out suck. And their last leader died, how good is that?
Many beverages have attempted to secure for themselves the title of "most revolting drink ever." Among the candidates: strawberry milkshakes, cranberry juice, diet root beer, and (of course) Pepsi. However, I have found the one that out-sickens all of them. One that revolts more often than the French do, although it revolts your palate and the French revolt against their ruling class. It is Wax Gourd Juice, and it is awful.
At first I was thinking about taking it to the German exchange student I met yesterday, putting the juice in a water bottle, and making him drink it. "This is what water tastes like in America," I'd say. "We have a lot of pollution." Eventually, though, I decided that I don't want to hurt anyone else after that unfortunate incident with the daycare and the fire, so I inflicted the juice on myself.
Unfortunately, my polaroid camera is unable to take video, or you could see the full horror spreading across my face in the same way the sinister liquid spead over my stomach. Never ever try this.
Also, I've decided that I'll videotape myself drinking any disgusting (but not toxic) beverage suggested as soon as my webcam's working again. If you have suggestions, e-mail me.
ALERT!!
All single women, beware!! The man known as Judah Nielsen may come off as charming, smart, loyal, and by the looks of his last name, Danish.
HOWEVER!, a particular bit of information has come to light, and I am taking this opportunity to let everyone know what is it, as to prevent any woman (or man.. judah's kinda kinky curious...) from being spoiled by this filth.
Judah's heritage is ... god, i can't even say it with out gagging......
FRENCH CANADIAN!!!
That's right! The two worst possible things a person can be.. all wrapped up into one. Judah might as well join the KKK... that damn French Socialist...
I am hereby starting to movement to have Judah deported back to his homeland where he can rot! I spit on the French Canadians!
Ahdumn: fuck.. i WAS going to wait until 3:00 to make a bowl of cereal. Ahdumn: but i'm starving NOW.. brb
Special bulletin to mothers of daughters of marriagable age: Adam Zavala swears and eats cereal at 3 AM, he is uncouth, and barbaric, and would make a very poor match for your lovely lovely girls. Judah Nielsen, however, is a gentleman in every respect, and perfectly trustworthy. You could trust him with your daughter, her waterbed, and the keys to the liquor cabinet. You should trust him with your daughter, her waterbed, and the keys to the liquor cabinet.
What, are you kidding me? You gotta go to your prom! There'll be so many prime opportunities to witness your peer group behaving like morons! And those memories last forever. Trust me.
Sir, I have witnessed your dancing skill(z?) and I must say - to pass up the oppourtunity to attend a socialite evening with your peers being rated like a piece of meat is a travesty. Actually, that may have seemed sarcastic, but prom can really be fun. Give it a shot, shake your thing(thang?) and get down and f(iz)unky.
Please, for the love of Allah, go to prom. Why pass up the opportunity to make fools of the in-crowd by your far superior moves? Why not end your high school career leaving others jealous and mad for feeling too cool to talk to you in high school? And why not urinate on the dance floor in the middle of "Only God Knows Why" by Kid Rock? If you need a date, I've got this friend in Portland (Alex) that will drive down and go with you.
I have reached what may very well be the pinnacle of my thus-far uneventful and far from noteworthy life.
While watching TV this evening, I espyed a commercial for the latest of "Now that's what I call music volume 324908" For those of you unfamiliar with the genre, this company collects some of the more 'popular' songs of the past, say, three or four months, burns them on a whole messload of CDs and sells them via television ads and subliminal messages. Those in tune with the 'popular-culture' undoubtedly go out in droves to purchase these CDs, bopping their little teenaged heads to the beats they have become so familiar with over the past few months.
Due to the fact that I have not listened to a radio station outside of NPR since school ended last year, consisting primarily on my Radiohead CD collection and a few smatterings of Ben Folds Five, I was unable to place, even recognise any one of the songs on the compilation.
I will be hosting a reception in a week; feel free to bring a Pentium III 800 Mhz FCPGA processor or greater, 128 megs of 100Mhz or greater RAM, or that copy of Black & White preordered for me that hasn't fucking arrived yet.
For months he has entertained us with his musical variety program, but tonight, in a FUN! exclusive, I have to bring you the sorry news that Team FUN!'s own resident rumpshaker will not be attending the Senior Prom this year. This simply cannot be. The most popular dancer on the internet, not attending the biggest dance of his short High School career?
Something must be done, and like all people with a slight grievance that must or must not get solved for fear of, well, mild unpleasantness, I suggest a letter writing campaign. I suggest the following basic format:
I am deeply saddened to hear that you intend to skip your Senior Prom. The Prom was the highlight of my whole High School experience. Even though I was a social leper, I had my one moment of guilt-free fun and clumsy slow dancing, and it really changed my outlook on things.
You are blessed with a truly staggering gift, the ability to shake it till it won't shake no more, but unless you go to the Prom, you'll be wasting it. You could be dancing in memory of the children killed in the latest rash of school shootings, children who will never get the chance to attend the Prom. You could even be dancing for the children in Africa who have to stop going to school at age six to help their subsistence level families make ends meet, children for whom their is no hope of overpriced Tuxedos and crowded limo rides. Please, please don't let the children down, they are counting on you to shake your talented rump.
Sorry for using the hallowed halls of FUN! for something so banal and trivial, but I seem to have run out of options.
J.ames! E-mail me, wouldja? I've tried to e-mail you twice, and it's bounced both times.
And now, just so this post isn't completely worthless, I'll share this with you. If you're anything like me, it'll make odd things happen to your face.
Hey all,
Do you ever get that, "what the hell, a bunch of farm animals in the mall? Jeff's gotta be kidding me..." feeling? Yeah.. well I don't get it very frequently.
So when Jeff told me that there were farm animals, I immediately got that, "what the hell, a bunch of farm animals in the mall? Jeff's gotta be kidding me..." feeling.
Needless to say, I have investigated this matter... What I have found so far is not so much as disturbing as it is sad: there were farm animals in a mall. This mall was not too far from the place where I am typing this. And I missed out! *pout* iwantedtoseethefarmanimals... *pout*
So I was driving with a friend in a neighboring city on Saturday afternoon, when we noticed a giant cow outside of the mall. Of course, we went to investigate. We entered a trailer, which housed a creepy giant cow in a tiny pen just twitching. Also was a baby cow (calf) pouncing around at people who tried to pet it. We left the trailer thinking, "That was odd, let's get some Sbarro's inside the mall."
As we entered the mall, there was AN ENTIRE GODDAMN PETTING ZOO. INSIDE THE MALL! Who the hell thought, "capitalism and farming, what a combination?!" Does one get to choose which cow to make their shoes? They had pigs and cows and chickens and goats and more. It was the most bizarre thing I have ever seen. And on the other side of the mall, they were cooking pork and other animals. And directly between the live and the dead animals? You guessed it, the Red Cross, where I got a nifty pencil.
My friend had the great idea to try on and take pictures of prom tuxedos with farm animals in the background, but we were to lazy.
Film Lovers, take note: tonight at 9pm Pacific, the international channel will be running the excellent Hindi film "Pestonjee". The synopsis from their website reads:
This exquisite melodrama by one of India's acclaimed women directors is about two Parsi friends who are in love with the same woman. This film takes a very close, compassionate look at this rich community. (1987)
Now, I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings here, but that same synopsis can be used for any of the hundreds of Hindi fils that the IC has aired in my lifetime. What I don't understand is why there are so many films about two men falling in love with the same woman in a country where there are five hundred million women. Not only are they in love, but they have to break into song every three minutes, or as near as I can figure it, their balls explode.
Anyway, if you're not busy for three hours tonight, this one comes with my complete recommendation. No, really, 4 stars (****).
Oh yeah, Judah? Oh yeah? If all that is true, then how do you explain these headaches I get every time someone multiplies prime numbers in front of me, or my obsessive desire to see a member of the Travolta family elected to British Parliament?
And let's not forget my inexplicable inability to pronounce my Aunt Sadie's maiden name on alternate Wednesdays. Didn't think I was gonna bring that up, didja?
What's the point of all this, you may ask, "Doctor" Nielsen? I'll tell you. I have absolutely no idea! Ha HA! You weren't expecting that, were you, Captain Headshrinker?
Ariana, the answer to your quandry (is it a full blown quandry? I'm never sure.) is so obvious, I'm shocked that you missed it. You lust after those men, you want them so badly, that when your innermost secret desires are not fulfilled, your lust turns to hatred.
You say to yourself, "I don't find these men attractive. In fact, they are pigs, and I wouldn't give them the time of day", when in fact your only desire is to passed from one to the other like a sexual rag-doll.
I'm not trying to place blame, or, God forbid, say I was better than you, but until you accept your animal passions, your horrible jarring dreams may well continue.
If there's anyone who really annoys the shit out of me, it's Leonardo DiCaprio. I don't really want to get into details, but I'm sure enough of you agree with me, and therefore have your own reasons. So just consult with yourselves. Easy, no?
So last night, I dream I'm on a date with him, as though I'd even say yes to him. (Ariana's Brain: Yes, because celebrities ask you out all the time) We're walking back to my place for "coffee", and I'm babbling on about Helen Hunt, and how unfair it is she's in 49 movies this year when I've never been in one. He is walking fast, man. Practically running. I grab his arm, and tell him to slow down, and that he can go as fast as he wants to when we get back to my place *suggestive wink*.
WHY would I SAY something like THAT??! It's insanity, I know it. It's inevitable that any person that gives me the shits will suddenly become very appealing and sexy in my dreams. I think the scariest one was my 7th grade English teacher, he of beer gut and gay man's moustache.
I had a similar dream involving Russell Crowe. He is a sleaze. He beats people up. He never gets that pissed-off look off of his face. How can I develop a soft spot for someone like that? It's all those tabloid magazines, I'm sure of it. They want me to like these repulsive movie stars, and now they've won.
Oooohhh...I'm sorry contestant, but Diet Coke didn't come out in 1982. So that would make it a little difficult for you to have given an ice cold one of those babies to any political figure/evil demagogue prior to that date! Ahaha.
Not to mention the fact that you weren't born until Hitler was already good and dead, WWII quite over, and American culture had begun its tailspin into a decade of tasteless grime, the only useful product of which was the Pixies, which formed circa 1987 (I think). There may have been a few other things worth mentioning, but I don't feel like it.
One day, at roughly three of the clock ante meridian, a young Judah Neilsen walked innocently into a local record store. Though hesitant to enter a record store named "Anal Rampage," it advertised S&M on the window, and that was exactly the Metallica album he wanted. What happened next is up to interpretation, but in the end Judah was out thirty dollars, leather boots, and his innocence.
Well, someone had to post something, and this was the best thing I could do, give me a break. And will either Neil or Judah Nielsen change your name so it is either "ie" or "ei", because I really can't spell either as it stands now.
Guess who got his punogre stickers in the mail today!? Oh it's me! Yes! It's time for some good ol' fashioned poster and sticker placin' goodness... Can anyone think of fun places to stick 'em and hang the posters? email me or post here and give me suggestions. My droogs and I will take pictures of the madness so you can see your ideas in action!
To begin: Peter, I know we don't know each other... but, but I feel there's this connection... I felt it when I first laid eyes on your sultry webcam pictures... I just melted... Oh Peter, may you have an oh so happy birthday!
Wow, have you ever had the urge to drive to the abandoned parking lot of a musuem and drag race your friends? Yeah... me either. But I did tonight with 'Nah, Slick, Scotty-too-hotty, and Will12. What a fun time! j.onah's car sounds like a RC race car when he goes real fast in reverse. Also, we went down this really cool hill we call 'martha'. It's a roller coaster. Shot some pool, caused some trouble. Threw some pennies at each other while racing on the freeway and throwing the sign of the chief back and forth. Oh and never trust someone who walks out to your car really quietly with a ketchup packet and a big grin on their face... trust me.
Also, I know this is going to sound odd, but on a completely different note: if there is a Habitat for Humanity in your home town, seriously consider taking some time away from the box to share the love and help someone own their own home. Thanks, much love.
Well, I think that it's time to bring a little social consciousness to FUN! I bring to you an editorial by a most esteemed colleage of mine, who writes for over 50 newspapers nationwide. Allow me to present...A Dog Wearing Underwear.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
On Capital Punishment by a Dog Who Wears Underwear
Speaking simply as a dog who wears underwear, I know that capital punishment is a convoluted and difficult issue. Is it ethically acceptable to take someone's life under any circumstances? Answering this question is not much easier when you're a dog in underpants. The question is almost as difficult as the question of WHY I am wearing underwear. It is certainly not natural. Nor is it even morally acceptable. I suppose I lean towards capital punishment, as I have developed a deep and seething hatred for mankind (who have humiliated me utterly and completely by making me wear these ridiculous things). But would my hatred truly justify the taking of a human life?
Curse you Peter! If you notice, my post was at 9:15 p.m. and yours at a pitiful 9:23 post meridian. But now my post looks like a feeble attempt at wishing you a happy birthday well after you acknowledged everyone's good word. This is simply not true, and I want a formal apolgy. Now.
I also wish Peter a very happy birthday, and just because I don't have the fancy know-how to make it big and pretty doesn't mean I care any less. In fact, I care more than that heartless Adam does. He doesn't even go to your site daily or stalk you from outside you bedroom window, like me.
Also, in case anyone was wondering why I have not posted much of late, it is because NOTHING INTERESTING EVER HAPPENS TO ME ANYMORE. Please join the war on boredom and entertain me with interesting things 24/7. Thank you and a final Happy Birthday to Peter.
Sorry folks; despite your kind words and generous actions, I will not be turned from my miserly ways this eve. I hate you all. Leave me alone.
And yes, Alex, I would be happy to persue some sort of relation with you, granted that it concludes with a night of wild & regret-free premarital sex. Yummy!
Yes, yes we do. In a completely non-platonic way. In fact, we were wondering if...you know, if you weren't busy...if you'd kinda...maybe...like to...you know...do something sometime...I mean.
Those folks over at FOX keep planting cameras in hidden places in my room, and recording my most secret activities. This time I found a camera cleverly hidden in my alarm clock when I noticed that there were two blinking red lights instead of the usual one.
I quickly destroyed the camera, but apparently some footage was transmitted elsewhere, because to my dismay, I later found this.
Why am I advertising this fact to the world, when it would otherwise have stayed safely ignored on some obscure server?
In case you hadn't noticed, I don't plan on answering this.
Judah, for the love of all that is sacred and holy - no! No, no no no! Please no! What you are suggesting is the bane of the internet; I shudder at the thought! These \"web applet\" types should be dealt with in one manner and one manner only: slow, painful death.
Redesign bug bite you lately, but you don't know what to do with your page? I was like you, until my eyes beheld this banner advertisement:
FAILED! Your site is not accepted! Please tune up your site using fancy JAVA(TM) applets. You may download a set of 40 plus incredible web applets for FREE at http://www.anyfteam.com
Team FUN! is now holding yet another contest. Anyone who can sucessfully integrate 40 of the 'incredible web applets' at the site in the ad into a tasteful web page will get a little something special, courtesy of me.
Last night, after I got off work, I was walking around downtown when I noticed there was a large line to get into the coffee house.
"What's with the line?" I asked someone who was waiting.
"Dude, you don't know?" He replied.
"No...."
"Dan Rather's Nü Metal band is playing!"
"Dan Rather? The news guy?"
"Yeah! That one! He started a band!"
"What do they sound like?"
"Well, I don't want to say rap-metal-industrial-dance-party-classical, but sort of like Limp Bizkit meets Rammstein meets the Baha Men meets Yo Yo Ma."
Curious, I paid the $15 to get in and see this for myself. Sure enough, there was Dan Rather on stage rapping about not "giving a fuck!", wearing Fubu, and wearing an Atlanta Braves baseball cap turned to the back.
After the show was over, I knew I had to interview him for FUN! and ask him what led to this drastic change from sophisticated and well respected news anchor to angst ridden rap-rocker. The following is the interivew with Dan Rather, the first in a series of celebrity interviews that I will conduct for FUN!:
Me: Dan, what caused this change?
Dan: Word, bitch. Don't fuck wit me. EMINEM!!!
Me: Are you still going to do the news?
Dan: Fuck Britney Spears and NSync! Fuck all dat shit!
Me: How's your relationship with fellow news anchor Tom Brokaw doing these days?
Dan: Fuck Brokaw. He nuttin' but a pussy bitch!
Me: When's the album coming out?
Dan: Yo, da album will drop sum-time 'roun Septemba, ya heard?
Me: How's the tour going so far?
Dan: Yo, word up to my man Fred Durst! LIMP BIZKIT!
Me: Thank you for the interview, Dan.
Dan: Fuck dat.
Then everyone got really drunk and all I remember is waking up this morning in bed next to Dan Rather and his "posse". Word.
There must be some reason why I had the nail gun thing that could shoot the blank face plates from PCI bays... there must be... something deep seated and emotionally relevant. There must be some reason why I was wearing the camera equiptment... There must be a reason why I could leave my car doors open over night without anything happening... There must be a reason why I could sit down and chat with Radiohead and then laugh and jump through a plate glass window - why did I do that again? Oh yeah... the gigantic cat in a business suit with a machete. That was it.
I'm serious. I thought I was a pretty well balanced individual. I thought I was on a pretty even keel. But then I accidentally shot my guidance councilor in the eye with the nail gun thing that shoots the blank face plates from PCI bays... and he was fine. You know when I really knew I was dreaming though? When the beautiful women came and tried to touch me. And they weren't revolted or charging me by the hour. *sigh* [hums Weezer's only in dreams softly to self and turns to return to work]
UPDATE: Good luck Helena! (I've been in a few shows too, enjoy the butterflies!)
Sorry for the double-postage but I have a question:
May I send in a different picture to be posted for the Team FUN! member page? That picture I sent was terrible quality and it was too small, I believe.
I died.
Then came back.
And put on a lovely little dress rehearsal.
I want to thank Todd for sending me a lovely little email card wishing me good luck! I'll try my best.
I don't exactly know why I'm here.
I found a toothbrush on the side of the road yesterday. I picked it up, pocketed it, and wondered "Who would leave a toothbrush on the side of the road? And furthermore, who would pick it up?" Don't fret- I don't intend on using the toothbrush for my own person dental hygiene.
*looks up with a surprised yet oh - so - innocent look* Hmph- thags, sowwy abowt thagt *crunch* Id's Ohkhay. *munch* Hegh. *dribble delicious buttery crumbs* Heh... *big swallow* I'd never do something like that!
Sorry, I should have realized it was just a slip of the mind and not an evil plot to gain my attention while you sneak into my house, hide my keys, kick my dog, put kool-aid in my fish tank, and eat my ritz crackers.
Ok, that was pretty rude of me - I simply forgot to mention that we went to lunch at Hooters (not something I really enjoyed all that much) so in my other ramblings, I forgot to mention that.
Sorry 'bout that. Much love.
update: since Justin has pointed out my eggregious (though unintentional) error I have rewritten my earlier post, so as to make it most pleasing unto the eye of you, the reader.
(update: The following post makes no sense now that J.ames has edited his.)
All I have to say is: Major Writing Fallacy
Sorry J.ames. I just wanted to let you know that I could not get the full effect of your post. I spent the whole time waiting for you to talk about hooters! Using bait and switch techniques like that actually takes attention away from your writing. Sorry, nothing against you, I guess I'm just having one of those nit-picky days.
Hey! I specifically asked for a two foot THREE inch tall monkey to give me a massage... Agh!
I think I've mentioned that I've been sick the past few days - well I still am. But today, instead of waking up and staying in couch (I don't have a bed, and where a bed used to be in my room, I have a couch) - I decided to get up and drag my filthy carcass to school. See, there was a Trivia Bowl today... and this was apparently something I could not miss. My mind tells me stupid things sometimes.
The Trivia Bowl, was a fiasco (just like every other organized event that my school puts forth). It all started to go wrong when my friend 'rissa was pitteed against her own mother (a secretary, and all around great lady) in a head to head challenge. The crowd went nuts. A kid named Bobo yelled, "split her face open!" And they couldn't quiet the laughing crowd for about five minutes. The rest of the trivia bowl was just as insane, but I'll leave it to your imagination.
Other noteworthy incidents of the day:
-at lunch, my friend Kevin ordered "water with a slice of lemon, if you please" - Bobo looked at the waitress and deadpan said, "you'll have to excuse him, ma'am, he's got no penis." [note: Kevin is a nice guy, Bobo is a jerk. 'Nuff said.]
-Holly gave me a "it's not easy being a princess" shirt. It's purple.
BTW - swifty, your poem has sent quite a few of my friends into laughing hysterics - thank you.
sleepin' in class became my groove
after spending all night being sexually smoove
with the ladies, yeah, you know what i'm sayin'
but eight hours later my legs were a-splayin'
as i dozed in soc class, dreamin' of the street
shootin' my sawed-off with the gangstas elite
wakin up just as class was over and done
i sat up from my seat and prepared to run
to the next cliz-ass called "poetry"
for a sensitive thug mothafucka like me
the class, like my 40, was nowhere to be found
and my profizessor just wasn't around
a note on the door said "no class, you bitches"
and that's why i'm here, leaving your ass in stitches.
Even though I know it's posts like this which cement my reputation as Team FUN!'s mom, albeit Team FUN!'s big gay musclebound mom, thanks to the efforts of Adam and Swifty respectively, some things simply need to be posted. I'll bag on Zavala later, I promise.
Team FUN! is no longer accepting applications.
In the last thirty days I've processed so many applications that I don't know whether to shit or go blind. So until we redesign, change domains, and basically get our collective ass together, you will no longer have the opportunity to become a part of America's fastest growing Humor/Personal-Promotion/Something-Else-Probably Community. Bummed out? Go invent your own Team FUN!, or join another collaborativeproject.
An official apology
Apologies for changing our policy in the middle of Max and Zak's assignment. Honestly, even two more writers would have been too many, talented as you lads are. You're at the top of the list in case we have any openings in the future.
A few more long winded posts like this, and we'll have to start archiving every three days.
My alarm clock began buzzing in my ear at 6:02 AM today. I have my alarm clock set to go off at such an odd time because it's usually a minute before I come to and realize that my alarm is going off. By then it's 6:03 AM. I then hit the snooze button which allows me seven (7) more minutes before the alarm goes back off, which will be at 6:10 AM, and I insist on getting out of bed at time increments of five (5) minutes. (ie: 6:00, 6:05, 6:10, 6:15, etc). I'm weird like that.
Anyway, I trailed off.
So anyway, I got out of bed at 6:10 this morning only to stumble to my bath. I had my lovely EXTREMELY attractive servant women take off my bathrobe (my GOLD bathrobe, mind you), and escort me into the bath. There, I was bathed by my lovely servants with only the finest of soaps. I was given a backrub by one of my servants while another washed my feet with a hand-made bath towel soaked in hot purified water.
Then, Jebus, my Jamaican butler, came into the bathroom with the telephone on a silver platter.
"Telephone for you, suh (sir)."
"Thank you, Jebus." I took the phone. "Hello? This is Adam."
"Adam! This is Judah! Oh, I'm so glad I got a hold of you. You have no idea the troubles I've seen!"
"Well, what's wrong, pal?"
"Oh man. First I wet the bed.. but THEN I was kidnapped from the playplace at McDonald's by some German soldiers circa WWII!... but THEN, after I got away from the soldiers, I tried to go to FUN! and it took forever because I'm a big stupid-head who still has a dial-up modem! You need to archive!"
Just then, Peter walked into the bathroom fashioning a fur coat and sun glasses.
"Sorry about that" I said to Judah, "Peter showed up and we had to talk about some serious stuff."
"It's okay. I don't mind. Oooh! Hold on a second! My cookies are almost done baking!"
Judah returned to the phone a few moments later in a fit of giggles
"What's so funny?" I asked.
"Oh nothing! It's just that I made these cookies in the shapes of little bunnies! Hehe!"
"You're a weird guy, Judah. Ooh! hold on for a minute, I've got a call on the other line." I clicked over.
"Hello?"
"Neo. I want to talk to you about the Matrix."
"Not now, Morpheus. I'm talking to Judah."
"Right, sorry. Oh! Tell Judah that I loved the cookies he sent me! They were FAB-U-LOUS!."
"Will do, Morpheus." I clicked back over.
"Judah?"
"Hey there!"
"Morpheus says he loves the cookies you sent."
"Oh, that silly goose! He always loves my cookies!"
"Have I told you that you're a weird guy, Judah?"
Just then the door to my bathroom swung open. In stepped Swifty all decked out in FUBU gear.
"WASSSUUPPP!!!???" he yelled.
"Swifty! What have I told you about that?!"
"Word?"
"I said don't do that anymore."
"Right, sorry..."
"Sorry, Judah. Swifty stopped by."
"It's ok, sweetheart."
"Don't call me that. I have to go. I'm getting a backrub right now, and you're calling me 'sweetheart'. This isn't right. I'll call you later."
"Okay! Toodles!"
Then, after my massage and being dressed by my lovely servants, I archived FUN! Then, when I called Judah back, he insisted on singing show tunes to me. But I turned down his offer and told him he was a weird guy.
Many beverages have attempted to secure for themselves the title of "most revolting drink ever." Among the candidates: strawberry milkshakes, cranberry juice, diet root beer, and (of course) Pepsi. However, I have found the one that out-sickens all of them. One that revolts more often than the French do, although it revolts your palate and the French revolt against their ruling class. It is Wax Gourd Juice, and it is awful.
Unfortunately, my polaroid camera is unable to take video, or you could see the full horror spreading across my face in the same way the sinister liquid spead over my stomach. Never ever try this.
