9.01am: Farook is at my desk. He tells me he wants to be more popular and could use my advice.
I ask why he’s come to me. He says that I “appear to be moderately well liked by most, and tolerated by the rest.”
What a sweet talker.
9.02am: I suggest that he lighten up, smile, say hello, and play the odd practical joke.
Farook says “Practical jokes?” He barks out a single laugh and leaves.
9.03am: I’m pretty sure I’ve made a big mistake.
9.15am: Swearing three cubes down. Word is “someone” dumped coffee grounds in Naline’s desk drawer.
Let the antics begin.
10.45am: Next victim… Me! I enter my horse stall to discover my mouse has been crazy glued to my desk. Bravo, Farook. Well played.
12.42am: Nutless Tom goes into anaphylactic shock. Apparently some crazy prankster put peanut butter in his egg salad sandwich. An ambulance is called.
Farook is nowhere to be seen…
1.36pm: Jack from Payroll enters my cube weeping. Someone has shredded all his reports and his family photos. When he leaves, I see the sign pinned on his back that says Fire Me.
2.54pm: Naline screams. I run to the office kitchen and watch Mike pull a blue lipped Farook out of the fridge. Apparently he emptied it, crawled in and waited for someone to open the door so he could spring out and yell at them.
4.12pm: Farook enters my cube. I say “You’re going overboard.”
He says “No I’m not. I’m making them laugh.”
He tells me he’s thinking of pulling the building’s fire alarm or slamming a coconut cream pie in Otto’s face.
He asks “Which one is funnier?”
4.13pm: Farook slams a coconut cream pie in Otto’s face.
4.14pm: Otto punches Farook in the stomach.
5.02pm: I leave the building. As I exit, I hear the fire alarm going off.
You know you’ll take all the blame for this, right?
Woot!
I just left a comment at your site! Do these kinds of zany things happen all the time at Sweet Valley High? If so, then it truly is a magical place. I still need to learn so much more. I’m hoping zany misunderstandings abound. But then again, I hope zany misunderstandings abound when I have a bath. Hmm, maybe I’ve said too much. 😉
Nice to see you, Shannon and thanks for dropping by.
And yes, you are right. I’ll be eating this mess. Maybe I can sprinkle on some sprinkles on it to make it more palatable. There, that’s my requisite usage of the word “sprinkle” for the day. (I like to say it three times and pretend I’m covered in fairy dust, hmm, maybe I’ve said too much…)
This is exactly the sort of thing that happens every day in Sweet Valley! It’s like one never ending episode of Three’s Company. Zany misunderstandings do, indeed, abound.
Good job on getting all your uses of “sprinkle” into one comment! I think if I worked at Hamish Industries, I’d want to pretend I was covered in fairy dust, too. Of course, I’m a girl, so I kind of already want to be covered in fairy dust…
Hah!
It happened again.
Wow, I can feel the magical zaniness abounding!
A never ending episode of Three’s Company! I’ll bring the laugh track. We’ll get pixilated.
PS. I always thought there should have been a Three’s Company spin off called, Three’s Bigamy…
would Jack or Mr. Roper be the lucky guy?
Hah! What? No love for next door neighbour Larry Dallas? I thought the womanizing used car salesmen always got the ménage à trois action. Then again, I don’t get out of the office very often…
can you tell the TV addict here?
🙂 Is it the guy who mentioned Larry Dallas?
apologies Alantru.. I’m having an identity crisis and want to check to see if I’ve cured myself.. seeing if I’m linked…..
You are. And might I add that hyperlinked looks damn fine on you. Damn fine.
Surely Otto would have throttled Farook,
his own version of a practical choke…..
Hah! Too rich.
Nice one, Eunoia.
😆
I hope Nutless Tom is ok…for Farook’s sake.
Everybody hates a joke killer.
HA!
Once again, I am comically slayed by bschooled
I like the way that rolls off the tongue.
So… It’s not okay for me to be thinking, “Well, if Nutless Tom dies that gets me out of his wedding”?
Um, not that the thought ever crossed my mind.
cough
But if it did…
A bad thing?
I like the way that rolls off the tongue as well…
Do you mind if I print that off, post it on my corkboard and tell everyone it was attached to an enormous bouquet of various in-season exotic flowers surrounded by baby’s breath that I immediately took home and put into the Swarovski crystal vase that also came with it?
Not that I even like baby’s breath. Or exotic flowers for that matter. I just need to one-up that stupid “Oooh, Look at me…it’s my Birthday and I have a boyfriend who loves me because I don’t cheat on him when I drink…” Joyce in Payroll. Self-righteous bitch.
Anyway, what were we talking about? Oh, right.
No, Alan, that way of thinking is perfectly acceptable. I mean, it’s not like you went over there and personally closed his throat cavity or anything.
The Joke Killer did that.
I would be terribly disappointed if you didn’t print it off, post it on your corkboard and tell everyone it was attached to an enormous bouquet of various in-season exotic flowers surrounded by baby’s breath that you immediately took home and put into the Swarovski crystal vase that also came with it. Terribly disappointed.
How disappointed? you ask. Well, I would stagger down heartbreak avenue weeping a copious flow of bitter tears that could only be abated by my ultimately throwing myself off a bridge and into a stagnant pond that swallowed my now black soul while sucking the remaining glimmers of life from my still beating and broken heart.
Wow. You won’t see that on a greeting card. Unless, does Hallmark make a line of despondent suicide cards?
I said I loved you
You said fuck it
So I went ahead
And kicked the bucket
Sorry, where were we?
Oh right. It’s the Joke Killer’s fault.
Thanks for clearing that up.
You kicked the bucket
I’ve mourned long enough
I’m dating your brother
‘cuz he likes it rough
Yep. Blame JK.
I came back from the dead
And what I saw shocked me
You both said “Join us”
And so the ghost makes three
I also blame the JK for the depleting ozone.
He’s depleting the ozone
he kills all the jokes
but you’d surely forgive him
if you met his folks
A wackier pair,
You’ve never seen
She’s a contortionist
He’s a drag queen
I’d go in for the touchdown
But I’ll have to delay
I didn’t bring my game face
Because it’s casual day
And on a casual day
We eat tex mex
On a casual day
We have casual sex
Gothic Mark would love it if poor nutless Tom passed on, I can see him prepping his lyrics and rehearsing for the funeral already, those goths love a good funeral don’t they!
Haha!
Yes, they do, me (hah! “do me”),
In fact, one might say that Goths live for a funeral.
😛
Someone wants to marry NUTless Tom?
Hah. Yup. She’s a Scientologist! Her name is Tracy.
There’s always that guy who doesn’t know the difference between a “prank” and just “being an asshole”. It sounds like Farook is struggling with that line.
It’s a fine line and he is indeed struggling, Shawn. Good call. For now, let’s label him a “prankhole” and see if he can sort himself out in time.
Something tells me Farook would approve.
Something also tells me he’s out looking for a crane.
😉
I totally forgot about Larry, the guy with the ‘thick’ black hair and the slimy demeanor? The TV addict was me.
And, thank you no one has ever said damned in relationship to my hyperlinks.. brings on a frisson of delight! (love that word…..)
😉
I too am a fan of frisson.
Hello, great post. I’ve always wondered about this topic, thanks for posting. I’m bookmarking your site. Thanks.
Yuri…?
🙂
Лєчөөь Гзбоь БчэдбҐу
http://alpototallynude.com
Hahahahahaha!
Oh, Vassily!
How you shock, frighten and ultimately delight us all with your obscenities and pornographic links.
😆
Vasily? Like, Vasily Zaitsev, the Russian sniper hero from WWII? I LOVE your movie! Your story is amazing, and I just want you to know that you are my hero!!!
Alan, shame on you for trashing a valiant warrior like that. Young people these days. I swear.
Little known fact, but Zaitsev was an amazing pie thrower as well.
I heard that when Zaitsev threw a coconut cream pie it was like watching poetry in motion.
Little known fact, but after the war Zaitsev became ‘Melon the Clown’ in the Moscow Circus. He was a real crowd-pleaser with his pie-throwing prowess.
He was also well-loved throughout the Soviet Union for coming up with the Russian equivalent of the popular catch-phrases “He blowed up real good” and “Get er dun.”
Can you get awesoner than that??
Am I the Antijokekiller? I pop in, give the intro, and say, “Take it away, boys.”
I don’t actually provide the humor, I just throw the firecracker and say, “Who? Me??”
That’s so not true BK, your a player and you know it.
BKT,
Sorry about the infernal delay. I just saw this. Yikes!
See what FJ said?
He said it right.
“Can you get awesoner than that??”
Not in my pie throwing, crowd-pleasing, catch-phrase making, books.
He also invented the hot dog eating contest (an event where he would see many a participant “blow up real good”), Tang ™ and the popular board game “Let’s get Comrade Naked and Drunk!”
Damn young trashers of valiant Russian WWII warriors.
The list!
ГЦСК УФЦ
Vassily!
At first I was shocked, frightened and concerned about what you were writing. So, I translated it. Hahaha! Oh, Vassily, how you amuse…
Apparently Vassily is selling “Male Egos”
His pitch is enticing. It reads…
Ladies, do you suffer from self-doubt? Well I used to be just like you. That’s right, I was a woman. But now that I’m a man, and believe me, I’m all man, I’m just loaded with self-confidence.
It’s true, I used to be a timid little pearl wearing Stepford wife. I tried all the conventional methods of building confidence Paxil, Gin and Tonic, Pilates, but they could only take me so far.
Then I saw an ad in the back of a Good Housekeeping Magazine that said “Be a Man. Send $35.50” So I did.
And let me tell ya sisters, it’s the good life. I can sit with my legs uncrossed, get sickeningly drunk and I don’t have to worry about finding a bra that lifts and separates. There’s no surgery. The 35.50 gets you all you need to be a man: a huge and disgusting male ego. It comes pre-assembled for easy installation and in three sizes: business, professional athlete and over-inflated.
I had my ego for a week before nature took its course and I started shaving and having spontaneous erections. Rather like the one I have right now.
After only 10 days I finally had the confidence I needed to lose my obsession about body image and to start thinking about my needs at the exclusion of everything else. So wise up gals, get a male ego and get a new perspective on life.
Please, please – where can I get one? I’ll pay extra to get it here fast. Thinking about my needs at the exclusion of everything else is just what I need to get my writing career off this child- and toy-laden ground.
Just send a money order of $35.50 to:
PO Box: Big 1 Inflated
MaleEgo, Ont.
B1G B0Y
😛
This is a very B1G BOY
Hah. Too rich. Wonderfully phallic.
Great find!
Articulated steam always does it for me.
Understandable, Claire.
I like my steam not only to be steamy, but also to be well articulated.
I mean who wants monosyllabic steam?
Monosyllabic Steam: “Duh. Me steam. Me hot. Me vaporized water. Me an in-vis-ib-le gas. Me hot. Me steam.”
I think me may take offense to that comment Alan.
Me no mean to be mean. Me sorry. Me not sure what me said thoughh… Hah. Look. Me spell “though” wrong.
We need to get your articulation fixed Alan. Or maybe just get you fixed.
Either way, I’d like to see the video posted on Youtube.
Where’s Presidente Dave? I’m thinking he could make this happen.
We did take a vote. We said “who thinks Alan should get fixed and taped and posted to youtube?”
and everyone raised their hands and said “ME!”
Shalom and happy divorce day to our USofA ex-relatives.
I have consulted the Truly Sickies meeting minutes, (those that survived the last pie-and-a-pint throwing competition) and found the following written in blood;
…’ CC stood erect and screamed,”who thinks Alan should get fixed and taped and posted to youtube?” After an interminable waffle and belching session, a vote by hands raised, (some where they should not have been going, ever, at least in public) and the tally was;
for the motion, 1547903241
against the motion, 2′
Thus, in my capacity as President of The Trulie Sickies I pronounce, LET THE VIDEO BE SHOWN.
dave
COI Bit early here and I need a tea or two…
shows the competition he will be up against.
dave
Happy Divorce Day to you too Presidente Dave.
I’m glad someone saw where those hands were going. It’s amazing that many people heard me yelling.
Then again, maybe it’s not.
Thank you Presidente, Dave…
It was epic, it was stirring, it was baffling and it was heartbreaking.
It had all the elements of gripping well made drama. A first act that captures our attention; a second act that moves briskly and includes a Shin Kamen Rider Soft Vinyl Figure with a cardboard box head, and a finale I’ll likely never forget.
I give it five glorious stars, a standing ovation, and a trip to the shopping mall.
So, to sum up: “真・仮面ライダー フィギュア!”
I took some clients out to lunch once. Their admin was pissed she wasn’t invited so to get even, she unplugged all of their mouses (is it mouses or mice) Anyway, no one could figure out why their computer wouldn’t work.
Needless to say she didn’t last long.
bearman,
That last line of yours has a decidedly nefarious quality to it.
How nefarious? You ask.
I was expecting a “Bwehahahah” sign off.
For some reason, I suspect that this admin is now swimming with the fish (or is it fishes?).
Well it wasn’t ME!!! bwehahahahah
😆
There we go! Let it out!
Alan,
I can’t help but think there is some reason you encouraged Farook to go with the practical joke angle. Is this something you have fantasized about? Tell me about your fantasies, Alan. Again. I mean, tell me about them again, as I already know them. I just like hearing them. Again, and again, and again.
These “jokes” you list, they seem so well-planned. Certainly not spur of the moment, as you imply. Do you know about them because Farook knows about them? Are you Farook??
No, on second thought I suspect not. You are too smart and too appreciative of word play. You would have used a sticky trap to “trap” your mouse, as that’s what I would have done.
Yours in transference, always,
GOF
Freud!
Thank God you’re here!
Hah, just kidding, you wascally atheist you.
I suspect you are correct, Freud (and that you never get tired of hearing that, that’s why you banished Jung, right? He wouldn’t toady up. Oh dear, I’m rambling in parenthesis. You always do this to me, ghost of Siggy!).
The practical joke thing just happened. It was an accident. I know, I know, no accidents, just unconscious truths spilling everywhere like so much sourdough.
Anyway, I am of course thrilled to tell you my fantasies. Everyone else I tell them to calls the police. Life is unfair sometimes. And prison sucks.
Damn prison.
I fantasize that…
-One day I will meet Colonel Mustard in the billiard room with a knife
-That one day someone will develop the Alan Truitt plush
-That Don Mills will come over to my house with a slotted spoon
-That people will finally realize downloading music isn’t stealing – it’s just borrowing it for a lifetime
-That people will finally realize that the Napoleon complex and the castration complex are both complex
As for the Farook issue. Perhaps on some unconscious level, I hoped that he might kill Nutless Tom and get me out of the wedding. And for that, yes, I suffer some self loathing.
Damn self loathing.
But still, those Scientologists really annoy me.
Damn them too.
Thanks for dropping by, Freud. I know, I know. Our time is up. Until next session, remember “sometimes a cigar is just a massive erection.”
Too bad those Cubans are illegal. Now they know how to make a “cigar.” 😉
It’s the macho culture.
I don’t mind a little macho culture. As long as they don’t talk. 😉
Can they sing?
Macho Culture Song…
Where there’s bacteria
There is culture
Where there’s a babe
There’s a macho vulture
You just may find him
At a singles’ bar
Or he can also be found
In his muscle car
Where there’s action
Wherever there’s a chick
There’s a macho dude
Clutching his prick
He can kick against it
But man does that hurt
He’ll show you his heart
As he rips off his shirt
Gee, just as you were getting somewhere. Pity. 😉
I guess some regression and backsliding is to be expected.
Still, recognizing the problem is part of the solution. I hope.
😉
Hi Alan,
I too love “pranks,” but people like, “Farook” are just not cut out for the fine art of the joke. Actually, he has become the joke. Okay, no one is laughing right now, but someday – after he is long gone – his blunders shall be embellished, and then, become office legend.
Mark my words…
Happy Fourth of July to all who celebrate the day,
Sally P 🙂
That’s very astute and well said, Sally P.
You’re right. Once he is gone — the legend begins.
“No one could prank like Farook. Remember when he almost killed Nutless Tom? That guy was the master!”
Scary indeed.
Have a Happy July 4th Sally!
Best,
Alan
Since you are so well liked by some and tolerated by the rest, poor Farook looks up to you.
And now you’ve led him astray.
Hopefully, he set a real fire before he pulled the fire alarm. Too bad you can’t buy “work insurance” that would pay you if your building burned down.
Hey, Claire…
I didn’t mean to lead him astray. Sure, I handed him the peanut butter, okay, yes, I made the Fire Me sign, and, well, maybe I suggested the paper shredding… I’ll also admit to maybe dumping the coffee grounds and gluing my mouse on the desk… Oh, and stuffing Farook into a fridge … And then handing him the matches just before I left and maybe saying something like, “Do it, Farook. Burn the building to the ground.”
But I don’t see how that makes me culpable.
Just because you look innocent with those big brown eyes and those floppy ears, doesn’t mean you are innocent.
Did you at least tell the poor guy how to get OUT of the building after he sets it on fire?
I meant to. But I was so busy locking all the doors.
That makes sense. We wouldn’t want anyone breaking into a business that makes doors and windows.
That would be bad for business.
Hahaha!
Yes. My problem is that I care too much.
I really am dedicated.
Dedicated and Medicated
That too.
Groan…
:!
“Groan” as in… “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever read ” groan…
🙂
I there is left to say is wlierhthiesls, tioereiosttr, tleeithen, seliet and pelaereink,, egioegg, and please give me more.
Okie dokie,
Wellfrap, splattabiff, floopziepants, spiggledeboosh, umpwah, fooragoorah, panthoot, freepster, flagafish…
I quite enjoyed that!
Where’s the part where you talked Farook into pranking Carlita is some horrible way as to create an opportunity for you to step up and save/defend her both professionally and with romantic flair?
Um, uh, in the demimonde to be written later…?
Damn! Never even crossed my mind.
Oh well, I probably would have just shouted “Nerk!” in her face and then farted and passed out – if history is anything to go by.
It sounds to me like Farook might want to be watching his toes after putting that pie in Otto’s face. It is all fun and games until someone loses a toe.
Riot!
Eric,
I’m getting a t-shirt that says It’s all fun and games until someone loses a toe
Hi-larity!
Haha. Started laughing at this whilst eating minestrone soup and now my screen is covered in ‘god knows what’.
Thanks!
If any of the elements spalttered across your screen are not listed at;
http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/4807/chunky-minestrone-soup
then fetch rubber gloves, strong bleach, a cloth and water, (boiling hot for preference). Don the gloves, pour bleach into water, take cloth and wipe inside your mouth PDQ.
(Oh and wash down screen later)
dave
Ha!
Presidente Dave,
I shoud have read your comment first.
My pleasure, Chris.
And thank you.
My guess is your computer screen is covered in
Diced onions
Diced carrots
Diced celery
Trace amounts of olive oil
Pieces of garlic and parsley
MSG
Navy beans
Diced Potatoes
Diced tomatoes
Broth
I can offer up any cleaning tips should you require them. 🙂
WHAT, Navy beans???
Did you mean Yankee/Boston/haricot beans?
Ruddy USNavy, believe it invented everything including STD’s of note in many ports of call!
dave
Hahahaha!
Damn Navy Beans and their STD’s!
From now on I only have sex with pinto beans.
Holy MOSES!
Farook sounds like a crazy person! LOSTL!
Coffee grinds are REALLY hard to get out of anything and everything!
Truely you work with a madman that hides in fridges! LOSTL!
I hope you had a great day, even if its filled with a crazy man!
Bob
Thank goodness you’re here, Bob.
I hope your date went well last night. I look forward to reading all about your latest adventures.
I am already wondering…
Was there any string cheese?
What of the honking?
And antics? Were there antics?
Soon all will be revealed. And I look forward to that.
no honking! mr mills wants me to cut down, so i tried!
OH the delights of string cheese. Sarah and I-Zax are trying to school me on not eating string cheese on a date. I dont see the point as life isnt worth living WITHOUT string cheese!
I look foward to more farook antics! Surely hes a madman! LOSTL!
Bob
Bob,
Thank LOSTL! you’re here.
Well done on the lack of honking!
Mr. Millls is indeed a good influence on your life. He’d make a great step-dad, Bob.
I remain hopeful he and your dear mum may one day meet. Romance is a capital affair, Bob… As you well know!
Alan, you should have taught Farook the use of sarcasm first. “Ooh it’s so funny because it’s not true!”- Intern from the family guy.
But what’s done is done. Might as well make the most of it! Now, through Farook you can exact all manners of sordid revenge under the guise of practical joking ! Have farook ‘mention’ to Clark about how he heard that Mildred had hired a gang of assassin’s to take him out. Then have him mention to Otto that he heard ‘somebody’ (Clark) was squealing on him, getting both the FBI and corporate to take a closer look at him. Then have him tell Goth Mark that Naline said that his band sucks and she caught an STD off of the woman’s toilet seat in “The Turning Point.” And then just you know, keep it fanning the flames until no one is left standing!
07-09-09 1:07pm- The last ambulance leaves the parking lot!
Before you know it, you and Carlitta will have the office almost to yourselves. You can nerk all day.
You’ll be the boss, and Farook can be your quirky sidekick. Everyday a holiday!
I guess that wasn’t as much a practical joke as an achievable plan for Hamish companywide dominion. Sorry, I lapse into evil plan mode sometimes.
Riot!
As I read these plans of yours, Scott, I imagine you are dressed in an evil villain overlord costume as slaves bring you steaming drinks in goblets.
I’m guessing you live in some sort of sinister lair that is surrounded by baying wolves and that the weather outside is a combination of constant peels of thunder and flashes of lightning. I also see vultures flying about.
I suspect that your writing desk looks something like a torture rack, that there is a chained tiger or hell-hound somewhere in your room and that you have just scolded your dogs-body, the humped back Igor.
I believe your mad genius plans of overlording it all over the place has a unique back-story that I have, as of this moment, not yet figured out.
More later.
Until then, keep on keeping on with that evil mode plan of yours.
Someone’s gotta rule this dump.
I thought I’d put both of your imaginations to bed, spank and tickle them and make sweet, sweet, love to them all night. Now there is some sexual innuendo; but I obviously lack subtlety.
I’m dressed in light grey, cotton shorts, and a white tank top. No slaves (yet) but my wife was kind enough to make me a coffee this morning!
I’m living in a really white, really old Spanish house surrounded by stray cats. Because I’m the only one dumb enough to feed them. But I can’t help it, they look hungry. It’s about 95 outside with blazing white hot sun. I haven’t seen a thunderstorm or really any substantial rain fall since I moved from Florida. There are swallows diving, looping, and singing everywhere. Once in a while I might see a hawk.
My writing desk is a of light brown plasterboard material, a horrendous, wretched thing. When we decide where we are going to live permanently, I’ll buy furniture. I enjoy oak. Or cherry, cherry is nice too. My dog does appear to be scolded from the heat. Both the nine pound, brown dachshund, and my ginger cat are spread out on the Moroccan tile floor.
I don’t think I’m a genius, my IQ was 162 the last time I was tested, but I’ve obliterated innumerable brain cells since then. As for the back story; I haven’t even come up with one yet. Anyway I must go cook, I’m making a couple of beautiful pan seared chicken breasts with mushrooms and wild onions. I made a nice vegetable pasta earlier with green and red peppers, tomatoes, broccoli, and zucchini, already perfectly chilled! All served with Pellegrino water with a lemon wedge. It is a wonderfully light, almost refreshing meal, enjoyable in this ungodly heat.
Uh sike, no, no, you got me! You totally nailed me man. The whole slaves, goblets, the torture thing, yep, dead on man! It’s like you’re looking in a crystal ball or something! I like totally had you going with the whole innocence thing, huh?- you are picturing the voice of Stewie Griffin.
“What the deuce?”
😆
Nice. It sounds idyllic.
Either version…
Thanks, it is idyllic!! And hot.
I’d suggest cooling down in a light tutu, but I think BKT would go into paroxysms of agony.
(See below if elucidation is required or desired.)
That’s funny, Scott. Unlike Alan, I’m picturing you in a gas station attendants uniform.
To each his own.
Hahahahaha!
BKT — comedy machine.
Why do I think there is something more to this gas station attendant’s uniform? Something in a sexually charged innuendo and double entendre kind of a way?
Oh right. It’s because I have a filthy mind.
I need to take my brain out for a hosing down.
It’s that time again.
Or it could be that is was full of sexually charged innuendo and double hearing. Uh, I mean, entendre.
http://barelyknittogether.com/2009/07/02/will-work-for-just-long-enough-to-demonstrate-my-ineptness/#comment-1837
I bet you look adorable in your gas pumper’s uniform. 😉
And I’m sure Scott looks pretty cute in his.
Hmm, now if you’ll excuse me, I have a 12 o’clock with the Ghost of Freud.
Today’s discussion – my latency.
I’m very curious about what he has to say.
Hah!
Guess I’ll have to wait and see
what he says about my latency
Alan, darling.
I am running late. It seems some role playing therapy I am doing with a client has gone a bit long. Do you mind terribly if I meet with you in a gas station attendant’s uniform? (did you say “double entendre”? Hahaha!)
I understand if you’d rather delay our appointment. The intensity of seeing me in such a state might trigger some very difficult feelings in you.
But if you decide to keep our appointment, I’m ready. For you. I mean, I’m ready for you. I mean, I’m ready to handle you. And your issues, you know.
*cough*
Please do let me know soon.
Yours in submission. Er, transmission. I mean, transference.
-Siggy
P.S. If you happen to also have a gas station attendant’s uniform lying around, I would really, really love it if you would wear it. For uh, research purposes. Yes, that’s it. Research.
Er, GoF, me thinks you’ve confused your theories?
You would say, why does BKT want to see AT in a particular fetish uniform?
Skinner would ask if wearing the uniform was conditional on the assumption of sex afterwards.
Pavlo would say, bugger the plot, ring my bell!!
dave
Or we could do the Reich thing and relax in orgone accumulators.
It’s good to have options
🙂
Mr. Hambidge,
I do confess, I made a mess of things. It was all an attempt to get Alan to wear a gas station attendant’s uniform, which causes me immense excitement, even as I write this. I planned to arrive as a gas station customer, a delicate flower of a woman who cannot get the gas pump into her gas spot. It was an effort to draw out the “top” I just know is hiding within our dear office drone. In his new found position of power, his confidence would erect itself as a proud and sturdy tower of manhood.
And in any good psychoanalytic relationship, there is always something of the ol’ give-and-take, you know. 😉
Warmly,
Ghost of Freud who, it turns out, is a woman, the slightly younger twin sister of Sigmund, as we elucidated in an early comment thread.
I thought you were Sigmund’s evil twin brother?
Or… was it all a dream?
The Vienna Crier has printed excerpts from a long lost journal categorically proving famous psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud had an evil twin brother who was the real mastermind behind all of today’s pernicious Freudian Psychology and its resulting psychobabble.
Evil twin brother, Felix Freud is now being named as the fiend and the “brains” behind the castration complex, penis envy, the theory of the unconscious, infantile sexuality, and the “Big 3.” The Id, Ego, and Super Ego (his brother, Sigmund, wanted to call them Huey, Dewey and Louie).
According to Sigmund, evil twin Felix was known for his wicked sense of humour and once suggested to naive twin brother Ziggy, “Go show mother your Bavarian sausage and tell her that you know for a fact she wishes she had one. Oh, and then read Oedipus.”
Alan, Alan.
Don’t you remember my earlier revelation about pretending I was a boy to stave off my brother’s hatred? Your memory concerns me. What else do you not remember? Perhaps I should fill you in.
You are my favorite patient. You are in love with me. I am dead. But that doesn’t stop the steamy psychotherapy that happens between us. You promised you would wear a gas attendant/mechanic’s uniform to our session today.
That is all.
-Siggy, the secret sister of Freud who pretended to be a boy and who is misunderstood to be an evil twin named Felix who played mean tricks on his brother.
It’s all coming back to me now…
My name is Alan O. As a sprightly child, I wandered the merry streets of Vienna. I enjoyed Serbian bean soup and puppet shows. I lived on the corner of Liebhartstalstraße and Ketzergasse at 191, Perchtoldsdorf.
My mother was a wonderful woman. A saint. Maybe a bit stern… A stern saint. Saintly and stern… And my father… My father… Used… To…Make me wear a tutu!
Uncontrollable sobbing
Dear MsGoF,
I have dialled up your name link and found;
Er, um, WTF??
dave
Oh ho, Mr. Hambidge! I see you’ve caught me in yet another error. Initially, the link was relevant and referred to the pranks. Now, however, I see that a more appropriate link is in order.
You seem like a nice enough fellow, and are obviously gifted with a fine intellect. I would recommend that you just lighted up a tad. Perhaps take up drinking, or lawn darts. Watch a musical featuring brightly colored, lycra costumes now and then.
Whatever you do, though, do not dream. Never, ever dream.
Respectfully,
GoF
(who insists that while Sigmund might have had a stick up his ass and thus been a stickler for conventions such as “the truth,” I might have just the tiniest sense of humor)
Plus, the GOF looks hot in a tutu.
Damn hot.
I dream every bloody night, nightmares mostly that would take a battalion of shrinks to reduce to sense and death.
Heigo-ho, lawn darts whilst dressed in mulitcoloured lyrcra and pissed as a fart?
Now that would make for a good dream!!!
dave
I might add that the reference to Pavlov is particularly intriguing in light of AT’s possession of a tutu. The idea of him in a tutu as a counterpoint, as in Pavlov/Pavlova, is fascinating. Perhaps you might want to schedule a visit as well.
😆
Howl!!!!!!!!!
Why Freud,
Your late. And I’m latent.
Ergo: The universe is in harmony.
You want me to wear what? A gas attendant uniform. You mean one of those oil stained one piece deals worn by folks who hold phallic shaped nozzles that they jam into a car’s, um, gas spot. (Also known as the “g spot.”)
Hmm, it would appear the psychoanalyst has become the psychoanalysed…? (Is that a word, Freud? And is there significance in me asking you? And why do I once again find myself rambling in parenthesis?)
Anyway, alack and alas, I own not such a thing. I do have a tutu that I would be willing to sport.
Anything for you, Sigmund.
And please do remember Freud, dreams are often most profound when they involve me in a tutu.
Alan, while I did find this bit between you and GOF amusing, the idea of you in a tutu is so off-putting, I must quit your blog posthaste.
I like my men masculine, like my coffee.
[shudders]
Ah, but the image is burned into your mind — forever!
Bwehahahahahaahaha… cough cough hack wheeze … I mean… Tra la la la la!
There’s something disturbing about a man who doesn’t own (or know the name of) coveralls, but does own (and is willing to wear) a tutu – but I just can’t place my finger on what the problem is.
I think the problem is that he’s too adorable!
Who’s with me on this one!!!!???
SFX: a cricket chirps
An old man agrees with BKT about how men should dress.
NTTA (No Tutus Allowed)
BKT-You should have seen me in the turnpike outfit, if uniforms do something for you. It was a tight, light blue, polyester that really showed off my ass and brought out my eyes. I’ll send you an old pic when I can find one. Just don’t put it on ebay!
I think I’m really limited in my fetishism, Scott. Mechanics, good; tight polyester – meh. I’m sorry to disappoint you. But I am nonetheless curious about the picture. I “promise” nothing nefarious will happen to it.
So, it sounds like at 5:00pm angry Otto set Farook on fire.
😉
Like the song says… “Farook, Farook, Farook is on Fire…”
You started it Alan.
You mess with fire, you get burnt.
You’ve created a monster. He’s like the Terminator now – he can not be stopped. Next he’ll have a glowing eye and a thick Austrian accent.
Be warned!!!!
Farook: “Alan, do you think it would be funny if I pushed you out the window to your death?”
Alan: “Um, no. Think of something else, Farook.”
Farook: “Okay… I’ll be back.”
Perhaps Farook’s tendencies could be funnelled into something more productive with the right amount of prodding, coercing, threats of civil lawsuits or the old standby, “voluntold.”
It may be time for him to start up a new Merry Pranksters (or The New Merry Pranksters for lawsuit avoidance). Let him gather up as many acid-damaged coworkers and acquaintances as possible, cram them all into a woefully inefficient and unairconditioned bus, and set them free to roam the California coast in search of answers and pussy.
Alan, you could immortalize these hipsters by following (at a safe distance, of course) and recording their exploits, with as many exclamation points and interjections as possible.
You’ll need some sort of electro-car (to carbon-offsetting the bus) and a fine selection of head-to-toe white suits. Shave off that ridiculous beard as you probably do not want to be mistaken for the long-dead Col. Sanders and be pressed into service filling potholes and spraying KFC logos.
Be aware that 99% of all activities covered will be illegal, immoral and head-fuckering. You may want to bring sunglasses. And a lawyer.
(The tendency here is to go “gonzo,” but for your sake, I would recommend a lawyer that is not inclined to eat entire sheets of blotter acid while waving a buck knife around. But I’m not Jiminy Cricket, so do whatever you want. Don’t worry about me. I’ll just stay home. Awake. Call if you think you need a ride.)
This is a brilliant plan. You can be my lawyer. I’m going to incorporate some black juju into it as well and conjure up the spirit of the Colonel. (You do know that he taught Dave, of Dave of Wendy’s, everything he knew? Oh what the hell, I’ll conjure up Dave too.)
Let’s see what else am I going to need to bring? Oh yeah! You! My trusty gun toting lawyer. This is going to be fun! You, me and the filthy, bong smoking, groovy hippies and yippies. And Dave and the Colonel. And The Professor and Mary Ann.
Although I may pass on this adventure and let you helm the wheel, take the drugs, act as the lawyer, and deal with Dave, The Colonel, the two Gilligan lowballs, and those gyrating, hip twisting, yahooing, flower powering, damn dirty hippies.
Damn dirty hippies.
But I encourage you to send me a postcard.
Have a nice “trip” man.
😉
Alright. I’ll do it. But only because I know your tendencies and connections.
We will need:
a fast, American convertible
small, unmarked coins
the collected works of Alien Sex Fiend, the Pixies, Robyn Hitchcock, Fad Gadget & Morris Day and the Time
Jesus/Mary dashboard figurine
double-skull keychain
a sentient, beetle-like typewriter
spare toes
12 sheets of blotter acid, alphabetized by animated character (Annie, Little Orphan; Beavis & Butthead; Camel, Joe; Clippy; Heathcliff; Hypnotoad; Josie & the Pussycats; Leghorn, Foghorn; Noid, the; Spawn; WALL-e)
1 case Gideon Bibles
1 case empty whiskey bottles
1 case Boones Farm Snow Creek Berry
1 case spotted fever
Assorted “furrie” outfits (I’ll explain on the way)
1 cattle prod
2 kilos “hippienip”
Six Sigma Handbook
The Final Pitch of Billy Mays (order in the next 20 minutes and receive his lifetime supply of armhair products!)
The Tom Wolfe Guide! to Creative! Writing!
Snow Crash
Tannerleah’s new flipbook
http://stopannoyingme.wordpress.com/2009/07/02/maybe-i-was-too-hard-on-lulu/
Criterion Collection editions of Scary Movie, Showgirls, Crossroads, and Bad Boys II.
Journalistic fedoras
1 case malt liquor 40’s
1 case malt liquor 40’s to pour on the ground for our various bullet-ridden and completely dead acquantinces and accomplices
The Big Book of California Laws, Statutes and Loopholes: 2006 edition
Please be ready in 20 minutes.
At the risk of sounding desperate, can I come? I have automatic weapons, a zero degree sleeping bag, and ether.
Welcome aboard, BKT. Do you have a tutu?
My tutu is in tatters. My little pony ate it.
Damn little ponies.
I do not have a tutu but I have pointe shoes. I was a ballerina for thirteen years, which might explain my apprehension about you wearing a tutu. I was around a lot of questionably male figures in my formative years. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. 😉
Damn MY little ponies. They’re on the list.
And I forgot to tell you – those ponies that ate your tutu?
My minions.
Shock!!!
Followed by a gasp!
And finished off with whimpering and a dead faint
Absolutely. Those were on the secondary list, which was written to make the first list seem like a bunch of reasonable requests.
You’ll have the Fad Gadget, of course?
The first thing BKT will to do Fad is pluck his feathers, throw him in a boiling pot, tell us it was for the “greater good” and then put on The Cramps.
Yes, CLT, Alan is correct. I’m not much of a Fad Gadget Fan, or a Fadgagfan as they call themselves. Or was it Faggadfan?
In any event, The Cramps it is. But I’m all over the Pixies, if you’ve got it.
After what your ponies did to my tutu?
No dice, sister. It’s Inspector Fad Gadget 24/7!
That I do.
Including several CD singles with those ultra-rare bonus tracks.
Well, ultra-rare until this was released…
My personal favorites are:
No. 13 Baby
Motorway to Roswell
Broken Face
Allison
Ed Is Dead
(for those keeping score at home, that’s one per album for simplicity’s sake)
Favorite B-side:
Weird at My School
(although their cover of David Lynch’s Lady in the Radiator song is awesomely frightening)
I also have a few bootlegs, including an opening gig for U2 in 1992 (low energy, disinterested crowd) and an amazing set from Stockholm 1989, in which they played their entire set in alphabetical order (as was the style at the time)…
To sum up: Yes. I have the Pixies.
Got to love a song whose first line is “I got a broken face”
But what of debaser and where is my mind?
They’re pretty much all great songs. It would be simpler for me (as a diehard Pixies fan) to list the songs I don’t like… but that’s a little misleading.
So, I severely truncated my list.
The reason No. 13 Baby stands out for me (on a standout album) is that is runs near 4 minutes (epic for the Pixies) and it fades out (pretty much unheard of for the Pixies). Plus it’s got a kickass groove to it, especially towards the end when the band sort of let’s the song propel itself.
And with Where Is My Mind? we’ll be rerouting the convo, unintentionally or not, into the headspace of Fight Club.
I used to play a hell of a lot of bar trivia under the handle “Debasr”.
You’re right of course and well said.
I’m a diehard fan as well. And for the record, I concur. No 13 Baby is my favorite by them.
In fact I just took off Spoon’s “Kill The Moonlight” to play it.
CLT…
Forgive the delay. I’ve been trapped in the elevator for the past five hours. In that time I got married, had a son, watched him rebel, joined a militia, aged 50 years and then passed away.
Talk about suspended in disbelief.
I have a few minor changes to make on the list.
Now we negotiate!
a fast, American convertible — I offer Tonka Toys
small, unmarked coins – I offer chocolate medallions.
the collected works of Alien Sex Fiend, the Pixies, Robyn Hitchcock, Fad Gadget & Morris Day and the Time – I offer Flesh For Lulu, The Toadies, The ghost of John Lennon, Fad’s drummer Nick Cash (from 999). No problem on Morris and the Time
Jesus/Mary dashboard figurine – I love it. It’s yours.
double-skull keychain – I only have the one, and I am fond of it. But negotiation is about give and take. So sigh … It’s yours.
a sentient, beetle-like typewriter – Okay, but tell it I’m sorry. Or kill it. The choice is yours.
spare toes – I have 6. You can have 3. That’s fair.
12 sheets of blotter acid, alphabetized by animated character (Annie, Little Orphan; Beavis & Butthead; Camel, Joe; Clippy; Heathcliff; Hypnotoad; Josie & the Pussycats; Leghorn, Foghorn; Noid, the; Spawn; WALL-e) Yes AND No. It will be animated by the ghosts of Dr. Seuss, Chuck Jones, Tex Avery, Robert Clampett and Sigmund Freud’s lil’ sister. I’m in love with her.
1 case Gideon Bibles – No. Instead I offer 156 cases of scotch. Wait… Let me rethink this one…
1 case empty whiskey bottles — I offer 156 empty bottles. Let the Claire Collins braining spree begin!
1 case Boones Farm Snow Creek Berry – Never heard of it. So, sure.
1 case spotted fever – Hahhaha!
Assorted “furrie” outfits (I’ll explain on the way) — Not to me you won’t. I’m staying at home. So you can have a gross. .
1 cattle prod – But of course!
2 kilos “hippienip” – See above
Six Sigma Handbook – Again, see above
The Final Pitch of Billy Mays (order in the next 20 minutes and receive his lifetime supply of armhair products!) – That might take some work…
The Tom Wolfe Guide! to Creative! Writing! – Hahahahahahahaha! Sure, what the fuck…
Snow Crash — Nice sounding words. Never heard of ‘em. You can have ‘em.
Tannerleah’s new flipbook – A damn fine read.
http://stopannoyingme.wordpress.com/2009/07/02/maybe-i-was-too-hard-on-lulu/
Criterion Collection editions of Scary Movie, Showgirls, Crossroads, and Bad Boys II. — Wow, things are getting freaky. You are welcome to them. I’m hoping this is something you plan to inflict on Dawn Wells.
Journalistic fedoras — No reporter should leave home without one.
1 case malt liquor 40’s — Yes. But only because I reneged on the whiskey.
1 case malt liquor 40’s to pour on the ground for our various bullet-ridden and completely dead acquantinces and accomplices – Okay. Not! Psych! Hahah!
The Big Book of California Laws, Statutes and Loopholes: 2006 edition –For lighting fires yes. For any other uses. No.
Holy shit, and I thought you were kidding when you said, “Clearly, I need to get a life.”
And leave Dawn Wells out of this…a third party left the pot in her car. You can read this if you are still unsure:
http://www.dawn-wells.com/Statement_from_Dawn/statement_from_dawn.html
That’s it, I have to go, I’ve been asked to scrub in on yet another gallbladder transplant.
Me, kidding?
Nope. Not my style. Humour or humor is no good for no one, I tells ya.
As for Dawn. Well, okay. If you can forgive her then, I guess, so can I… I guess… You think?
http://yorksnbeans.blogspot.com/search?q=Gilligan
Godspeed on the gallbladder expedition, young hunter! Scrub fast, scrub well, transplant quickly!
Alan’s shocking amount of free time leads me to believe he is really unemployed, and is just reminiscing about his salad days with Hamish. One day he will wake up and have a complete breakdown.
Let’s just hope the Ghost-of-Freud-who-is-really-Sigmund’s-little-known-sister-who-had-to-pretend-she-was-a-boy-to-avoid-his-wrath is available for an emergency consult.
No need for a consult, I did that ages ago.
President Dave
Used to be consultant psychiatrist in UK, so a proper one compared to…
I’m thinking of raising an army of dedicated mental heath workers, then splitting open my noggin and letting them swim in my brain soup.
I’m also thinking about cats.
I’m also thinking about taking a walk.
I think I could use some air.
I think I could also use a good rest.
Mr. Hambidge, me thinks you might be just a tad too serious about all of this. See my above suggestions regarding possible remedies.
You should also know that Dialectical Behavior Therapy is the new black.
Good day to you, good doctor!
-GoF
LOL! GoF is right. DBT is the new black.
Praise all the deities that you offer oblation to, as I am now retired I can totally ignore all the forking codswallop I learned and applied over a quarter of a century of shrinking.
DBT? What? DBT!
Supposedly it means all this malarky;
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dialectical_behavioral_therapy
May I humbly offer alternatives.
Daylight Boozing Time. (Any day after 1800 hours local)
Drive by Truckers.
Douglas Bomford trust
http://www.dbt.org.uk/
Duxbury Braille Translator
http://www.duxburysystems.com/dbt.asp
Dibutylin
http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/10/081028121021.htm
(bit close to old life, so…)
DBT properties
http://www.dbt.co.zw/
which as they are selling in Zimbabwe of all places does not augur well for business.
I could go on, and on, and on…
DBT rules, oh no it doesn’t…..
Pres Dave
Pres Dave,
You had me at Drive By Truckers.
You win.
-GoF
To justify their huge salaries and pension pots, some oink at The Beeb has put together this smashing slide show of ‘quack’ remedies from the past.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/health/8129447.stm
Hang in if you can, only 3 mins 54 secs, and hold the show at 1min 11 secs and check the sign far right 2 rows dwon from top. Nothing much different 200 years ago it seems?
Also, Otto’s cure is at 3 mins 30 secs.
best
dave
Dave,
I loved that. LOVED it. I’m getting Otto an electropathic belt. Faroook gets a lung elixir and Naline a carbolic smoke ball.
Thanks! Fascinating stuff. Love this kind of thing.
Pardon my delay, Alan. I was detained watering the buffalo.
A few compromises:
Nick Cash (999) – I can’t think of a more appropriate song for a drug-fueled roadtrip than “Homicide.”
Boones Farm Flavored Wines – Cheap and tasty.
http://www.boonesfarm.net/testimonials.html
Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson – a book I’ve always meant to read but never got around to it. I figured I might have some downtime on this trip, but it looks as though I’ll be doing all the driving…
#1 reason for “must-read” status: the main character’s name is Hiro Protagonist.
Other than that, I think we are good to go…
No worries CLT,
Please forgive my tardiness as well, I was exchanging insults with the fascists at The Guy Lombard chat room.
Like the song says, “I believe in homicide” and I believe we have a deal.
Here are the keys.
Don’t forget to send me a postcard!
I’ll have to put Snow Crash on my list, right after I finish Infinite Jest, which I’m reading with a few hundred other fools over the summer. Oops, gotta go. I’m already down thirty seconds of reading time.
One day I would like to hear your thoughts on Confederacy of Dunces.
Your ignorance about Boone’s Farm indicates that you clearly did not suffer your teenage years in the southern United States. And CLT’s knowledge of it leads me to believe that we are not only from the same era, but likely ran in the same kinds of circles.
Boone’s Farm is one step above Wild Irish Rose, which might cause one to put the bottle in a paper bag, wino-style, and walk across this train trestle.
Over all, not a very good idea.
Agreed. Not a good career move. Especially if your career includes breathing.
Beautiful photo.
Alan, darling,
I found myself growing giddy at your revelation, and my heart nearly exploded with joy at your confession that you are in love with me!
But then I remembered that I told you that you were in love with me, which takes most of the joy out of the whole experience, and seriously deflates my ego, superego, and id.
Waiting patiently for you to spontaneously decide it’s true,
Ghost-of-Freud-who-is-really-Sigmund’s-little-known-sister-who-had-to-pretend-she-was-a-boy-to-avoid-his-wrath-and-who-is-totally-counter-transferring-on-you
My dearest Freud,
It is with quivering quill and fluttering fingers that I jot this hastily written missive. Given our torrid history, the back and forth transference, the almost theatrically sex farcical situations (Run For Your Wife has nothing on us, Siggy) not to mention the comments on my effeminate tutu wearing ways and my fondness for Inspector Fad Gadget of Scotland Yard and what the minions to did to my damned little pony, well, I was baffled, titillated, and delightfully amused and this is why it is quivering quill and fluttering fingers that I jot this hastily written missive. Oh, Freud, Freud, Freud, we have spent many a beleaguered session confessing, holding back, sharing cigars and endeavoring to understand what lies at the root of both my and your psyches. It has been challenging, it has been fraught with sexual tension, it has been expensive (at $250.00 an hour, I think you are coming out a little ahead in this relationship – financially speaking, of course). Interestingly, as you have gathered, I have not yet answered your question. This is not to tease or to try and exert some sort of psychiatric control, but because the words spill from my quill faster than my beating heart. Indeed when I look backward to the last five years on your couch and at the revelations that have befallen me (can revelations befall one, Freud?) and the distresses I have waded through while locked in these engaging conundrums, I find myself waxing philosophical on the true meaning of love verse transference verses counter transference. And this is why it is with quivering quill and fluttering fingers that I jot this hastily written missive and shall answer your burning question…
Of course, Sigggy. What’s not to love?
Do you think Farook will be there tomorrow?
I do.
I also believe he is an accountant on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Accountant On The Verge of A Nervous Breakdown
Wasn’t that an Academy Award winning foreign film starring Sanjay Dutt? Or am I confused? Confusion is my natural state… And I like it. Sure it can be confusing, but that’s to be expected. I think…
😉
It’s the strain of being at the office, I suppose.
You’re very generous in your appraisal, spamwarrior,
I just attributed it to Farook being jiggy out of his wiggy.
Practical jokes, office pranks are by far the only way to break up the boredom. No matter what you can never go to far. Unless it happens to you. We once hid this guys sandwich and when he went to get it from the fridge and didn’t find it he stalked off to beat the crap outta anyone with bread crumbs on their desk. BEAUTIFUL! I hid it in my tummy!
Good to see you, Betty. Given your military background, I think I’d steer clear of pranking you. Something tells me you could snap my neck with two fingers. And I need my neck in order to look up. And to live.
LOL!
The tummy is the best place to hide stolen sandwiches.
🙂
Betty is a profound lady.
Profoundly funny.
EL-PRESIDENTE SPEAKS
As foretold a couple of postings ago, ‘sickdays’ is 6 months old tomorrow (at least it is in UK).
Join me in congratulting alantru and all at Hamish. Try joining in with this sequence of ‘true london renditions of al jolson classics’
Shalom
dave
Thanks so much, Dave!
All Best,
Alan
Congrats, Mr. Truitt!
Go, The Window Pains! Go!
Thanks, Cynthia!
Wonderful to see you.
🙂
Anaphylactic shock. I know what Mildred would say about that.
Hahaha! Yes. Nicely called, belllakagan…
If she’d been here, Mildred would have shaken her finger at him and said “You’ll get no attention from me, ya blubbering baby.”
Is that the kind of shock you get from practicing “safe pranking?” Wouldn’t abstinence work better?
🙂
Very likely, Gryph.
It’s true what they say, “Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder”
Or is it “Abstinence allows the the heart to keep beating”?
Or “Abstinence makes the organ grow longer”?
One of them, I do believe…
it also creates a lovely shade of cobalt in the gonads.
😉
I have to say, that is rather poetic.
Hahaha, that’s great! Glad to see you can inspire such hilarity. Though there’s a severe lack of ferret use that I just can’t stand by.
FYI, did you know that ferrets can chew through wooden crates? I just hope that pest control will have a better time handling them than I did.
Riot! I keep mine sedated with Ritalin.
To continue the ongoing off the rail comments that always happen here…
Really? I had ferrets in a handmade wooden cage and they never chewed through it. I did have one who snuck out of the house several times, but she always came back.
First – why would you keep a ferret in a cage? Ferrets are awesome, and should be allowed to roam free in the house.
Second – why didn’t you tell me you had Ritalin? I’ll be right over.
BKT,
I kept mine in a mansion. But they kept bullying the butler.
Damn ferrets.
See you soon.
BKT, I loved my ferrets, but had not studied Ferret Whispering, so they pooped anywhere they wanted.
They roamed at recess.
I had the same problem with the kids I used to entertain when I was performing puppet shows.
Pamela,
What’s your secret? I studied to be a “Ferret Whisperer” but tanked out of Ferret University.
And yes, it was known by some of the gadabouts as “Good old F/U”
Most unfortunate.
I didn’t know there was a F/U,at least one for ferrets. ;-0
You should hear the good ol’ F/U fighting song, “We Remember you, Ol’ Sweet F/U”
I think I have it on an old 78 gramaphone LP.
Love the glued mouse to the desk trick. Nutless Tom, brilliant nickname, I am assuming from Farooks PJ that its a peanut allergy not due to castration.
Someone at my work mixed up someone else’s keyboard keys once, that was a hoot
Hey Tony,
Yup, he has an allergy. No castration. Not to my knowledge anyway. 😉