STUPOOPID

That's all I can come up with today: I took the word POOP and stuck it in the middle of the word STUPID*. Not bad, right? I mean. It's fun to say, at least. Um. Seeya tomorrow!

*I guess a P is missing.

It could take months...

for the Gulf of Mexico to sober up.

How M placement can turn Ming The Merciless into Ned Ferndon, demolition expert.

DESTROY THEM ALL!

DESTROY THE MALL!

Katrina And The Waves!

Ha ha ha! That's all I've got. Katrina and the Waves. Katrina's the name of the hurricane in Florida, and...and hurricanes often involve. Waves. Big hit in the 80's. Walking on Sunshine. Um. What's...thatoverthere?

(stomp stomp stomp slam)

Dear Splendiary,

Last night was yet another sparkling jewel in the crown that is my social calendar. My darling friend Rochelle Lawnjaws-Rosenberg invited me out to the debut of her brother-in-law's (Pastiche Lawnjaws-Beard's husband, triple-master chef Jjunter Beard) new restaurant, 'Delicieaux', a tre-fashionable fusion bistro eatery and vodkateria located next to the Gap fire in East Tri-Ho. Who would have thought that a Gap which is perpetually on fire would become the epicenter of a whole new restaurant and bar scene? Thank God for updrafts. At any rate, since the FDNY gave up on putting the Gap fire out, that block has absolutely blossomed into my favorite place for brunching, lunching, wining, dining, sipping, gawking and gabbing! Let's hope that freak batch of uber-dense truckrubber cargo shorts keeps smoldering for a few more years. Well, back to the point of this entry - last night was the coup-de-fabulousy awesome opening of Delicieaux, and everyone who is anyone worth anything was there! Flashbulbs were working overtime, peeps. To name just a few:

Karl Management, of Management Talent Management Agency - yes, he was wearing his signature ass glasses!

Lola Pockets, looking good as ever! Eat your heart out, Tyjelle!

Zach Masturbowski, inventor of the hot photo-based video game we see in bars all over the city, HUNK-PART MATCH!

Oh I could go on. Rochelle Lawnjaws-Rosenberg and I actually played a game of HUNK-PART MATCH once inside Delicieaux, and oh screw it it's five o'clock I'm leaving this cube!

Dress Blimp Cow Bulge Place!

Also, when visiting my folks, I saw a store called 'Dress Barn'. Not exactly an encouraging name for a place, is it? Do they really think women are going to feel good about themselves buying clothing at a place associated with livestock?

"Hey I know where you can get a nice dress the Dress Barn yeah BARN like where they store animals at night so they don't wander off and eat garbage or get stuck in a ditch mooo moooo!!!"

Heck, why not call the place Dress Hangar, or Dress Place That Needs To Be This Big To Accomodate The Giant Fat Dresses That Our Lumbering ClientelohGodnoherecomesonenow. Or just string together some words that'll really inspire the ladies, like Dress Blimp Cow Bulge Place.

"Here at Dress Blimp Cow Bulge Place, we have a wide selection of Obscurewear to hide your flapping corrugations!"

You know what? I have no idea if Dress Barn is for large women. But it sure sounds like it is, right? So if it isn't, it shouldn't be named Dress Barn. And if it IS, why use terminology your clientele would find discouraging and depressing? C'mon girls, am I right or am I eh. pfft.

What's weird, is that right next door to the Dress Barn, was another store with identical-looking signage called 'Dress Barn Woman'.

So, Dress Barn is not for women? Or maybe Dress Barn Woman is a store that carries other accessories that a Dress Barn shopper would enjoy, but not the dresses themselves? Or is it a command:

"Dress, barn woman!"

Unlikely and insulting.

It also sounds like a Doors song. "Dress Barn woman...trough drinkin' woman..." or perhaps "C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon now PLUS-sized girls..."

At any rate, Dress Barn Woman seems redundant, like Porn Palace for Men, Burger King Ebony, or No One To Love OTB.

What? Why are you looking at me that way? Well then send your complaints to the Burger King marketing department, Mr. PC! Harrumph.

Happy Anything From Everyone!

I would like to invent a standard-issue HAPPY ANYTHING FROM EVERYONE balloon, mylar perhaps, that could be used for any office-party scenario. They would be available in a break room dispenser, and would be inflated using sighs.

"This FOR SALE guy is taking forever..."

I was visiting my folks last weekend, and at one point I was in a car with my Dad (driving to the Burlington Coat Factory!), when he stopped and began waving a car into his lane. I looked at where my father was looking. He kept waving the car on, waiting for it to pull in front of him. It sat there. I looked back at my father.

"You know that car's empty, Dad, right? It's a parked car."

It was indeed. And furthermore, written all over it in big white letters - FOR SALE.

I am sick and tired of all you people on the left.

I am. I truly am. You're all vague and unfocused, blending together in a big blur, blabbering "why don't you pay attention to us, why don't you recognize us, what about us, blah blah blah!"

Don't think that lets YOU off the hook, people on the right. You're all in my face all the time, sharp and clear and fuckin' "You SEE me, you KNOW what I'm all about I am clear as daylight blah blah blah you're not bumping into me on the street!"

And you people on the left are like "Why did you just knock into me and watch where you're going and hey Andres Andres Andres didn't you see me, how come you didn't see me..."

I guess what I'm trying to say is, my left contact lense fell out on the way to work yesterday.

A world that is only half in focus can be a terrifying and wondrous place!

I bought some coffee at bucks.
Condoms at Reade.
Rented some DVDs at ockbuster*

Have you ever experienced the horror of a blurry hot Asian girl turning into a sharply-focused old Indian man before your very eyes?!? It's terrifying.

*Mega Supercockbuster, my favorite porn store.

What's the deal with the Gaza Strip?

I haven't seen that many Jews clear out of a place so quickly since Aunt Ruth farted at last year's Seder!

Eh?

EH?!?!?

(waggling eyebrows)

[slow R&B beat that gives you chills with its heat]

Mmm.
Ungh.
Yeah. Girl. Yeahgirl.

From your navel to your taint
Yeah from your navel down to your taint
Gonna use my tongue to paint
a mural of two unicorns in a pasture
if you jiggle my saliva will dry faster

yeah

Ooh girl
you're like a golf course girl
but with 15 fewer holes
Yeah I know you say I should change that lyric to 16
but you know we gonna try it somedayayayayay!

Some night when you're relaxed
and maybe not lookin' the right way
I'm gonna intrude my just barely bigger than mediu

Hi, Andres du Bouchet here, interrupting this post to remind you that this blog is NOT, I repeat NOT intended as a repository for polished material, but is rather an all-inclusive word dump where you can find, yes, polished material (few and far between) among the posts, but mostly stream-of-consciousness ramble framble bamble. Damble. Hamble. Hamble Lecter. Do you see? My consciousness is streaming.

That dude in the athlete's foot commercial looks like Harrison Ford:

YOUR FOOT? MY DAUGHTER, MISTER PRESIDENT!

WHY'D THEY HAVE TO BE FEET? I HATE FEET!

AND I THOUGHT THESE FEET SMELLED BAD...ON THE OUTSIDE.

Yeah, so anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, four beers and an empty stomach into my latest foray into being slumped over my laptop. I am, periodically, you see...slumped.

So.

What else.

Um. Why don't people say 'thank you' when you hold a door open for them in New York City? Why do I let it get to me? Why do I bark 'You're Welcome!' even as they expressionlessly glide past me, their minds already on whatever cubejobtask they need to accomplish that day? Would I get in trouble if I reached out, grabbed them, and forced them BACK through the door in the other direction? Would they take offense to that? I feel like I perhaps maybe have the right to do that, considering they didn't say thanks. Would I get in trouble if I grabbed as much of their hair as possible? Just grabbed it? And then, with my iron grip, brought my hands down to my waist and then stood perfectly still until I was arrested? That would not be good, I suppose. If I did that. My belt is not particularly nice, and that's what they'd be looking at. While tearing up, I wouldst imagine.

So. Is this BTK guy really all that bad? Yes.

So. 40-year old virgin is about to come out. Looks like a funny film. I lost my virginity when I was 19, which, I feel, is a bit late in the game, but whatev. The deed took place in the backseat of my 1982 Chevy Caprice, late at night, during the summer between my Freshman and Sophomore years of college (summer of 1990), next to a lake. In New Jersey. It lasted, oh I don't know...a minute? I barely remember it. The song 'Night Moves' was playing as we re-underweared ourselves amidst the steam. We were camp counselors. She was younger than me, but quite precocious, and it took her aggressive nature to overcome my painful shyness and lack of self anything. Which is odd, since I was quite the hunk. In fact, here's a picture of me when I was that age.

[ADDED AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm sober and alert now, and rather than delete the previous text I'll let it stand. However, it seems the jpeg I'm trying to post is glitchy, because it includes a massive amount of white space above it. Beats me. Scroll down to see 19-year old me at camp!]




















































































































































Suck my dick you prickwads! You've been PANDA'D!

"Jack, if you're going to the mall, don't forget your tranquilizer rifle and distraction steaks."

I think this would be a great way for Americans to keep on their toes!

I just like the phrase 'Distraction Steaks', and the thought of us walking around with backpacks full of them, nervously looking over our shoulders, and fingering the trigger on our tranq rifle, as we attempt to reach Dairy Queen without being devoured.

I mean c'mon! LIONS in the United States? How awesomely retarded would that be?!?!

Pretty awesomely retarded.

Now if the Lions WERE retarded, it would be a whole different ballgame. Getting hugged by a lion is still dangerous, don't get me wrong, but it's not as bad as getting eaten.

Retards like to hug, you see.

Oooookay. Time to put this post to sleep with the tranquiiiiugngh.

Cute Guys Page!

So, it turns out that my photo is going to be in Redbook Magazine as part of their 'cute guys page' or something along those lines. Just a picture of me out on the street, with a little caption about the most embarrassing thing I've ever done in front of a woman, or something like that. So, I'm trying to come up with a) what to wear and b) what to say.

a) I'm thinking I should be clean-shaven, and not wearing my glasses. I think a blazer is in order. And of course, I'll be wearing my signature red velvet beret.

b) Okay, this is true. The most embarrassing thing I've ever done in front of a woman is accidentally moan the name of another person during sex. A male person. A male comedian. You see, this was some very late night, very drunk, half-asleep sex, and I was honestly going over the lineup of some show I was going to be in the next night in my head, and this male comedian's name just happened to cross my mind and for some reason I mumbled it - I think I was actually waking up from a brief blackout (I was on the bottom). Anyway, I'm not sure my girlfriend remembers this, since she was also mega-drunk and half-asleep at the time. The time I murmured to her..."Cronin".

Okay, that's not true - but I think I'm going to stick with that as my story.

Seriously, I'm not worried.

I just thought it would be a funny entry.

Hey Sara, don't read this post, thanks.

I haven't done this in a while. An honest to goodness, plain old diary-style entry. Well, my girlfriend is off to Puerto Rico for five days for a BACHELORETTE party, so my goal until her return is to occupy myself with enough stuff so that stupid paranoid thoughts don't creep into my CALYPSOBANDGANGBANGMEGAINCHESROMP head. Ah crap, there we go again. Okay, it's back under control. I have, all modesty aside, an imagination that is, basically, the best one. It is. However, not unlike a wild ten-story stallion with a mane of fire, tail of lightning and hooves of thunder charging down a nuclear mountainside at the crest of an atomic avalanche, my imagination can be hard to...wrangle. Thus, in moments of quiet, when my anxieties and my imagination decide to meet for a cup of coffee at 'Le Café de Monstre Vert', I can be prone to COLADAINFUSEDMATTRESSBREAKINGHUMPFEST stupid, unfounded, destructive daydreams that YOU'REBROTHERSFROMSENEGALPERFECTOWOWOHGOD
IMEANYESYESMMMMMMMMPH just plunge me into the deep green sea. You guys know what I'm talking about. No matter how much trust you and your partner have, and my girlfriend and I, in my opinion, have a very healthy, trusting relationship based on mutual love and respect (and we are totally hot for each other it's ridiculous how great the naughty times are), it's unavoidable that, once in while, you'll entertain stupid negative fantasies about, oh, I dunno, Dick Haunchsplitter The Snorkling Teacher, Slab Groinwurst The Masseur or Ream Muffinlapper The Cock Inserter. Okay, that last one was so far from being an actual name and occupation that I've clearly lost it. I mean, we've all heard the last name Haunchsplitter before, but Muffinlapper? Please. I gotta go and do stuff. Lots of stuff. I predict I get a major crapload done this weekend. Writing. Working out. Organizing. Moving inanimate objects from place to place within a OHMYGODWE'VEBEENATITSINCE2AM?LET'SBREAKFORBREAKFASTNO?OKAYOWOWOWIMEANOHGODYESMYOBSIDIANTAGTEAMYES confined space in order to determine which arrangement of inanimate objects is most conducive to writing and/or working out. Drinking. Smoking. Pacing and smoking and drinking. Staring.

Seriously though, I'm not worried. She's probably just going to sit by the pool stroking cock. I mean DRINKING cock! I mean drinking cockTAILS. Ohjesus.

You read it, didn't you? I love you, Toots. Now go play canasta or shuffleboard with the old tourists, please!!!

Sweet Foam Alabama! Hoo!

FOAM!
by Andres du Bouchet
for 8/14/05 SNR

Dan McCoy as DAN MCCOY
Andres du Bouchet as FOAM

The following takes place during the news segment.

DAN
This week, NASA breathed a sigh of relief as the Space Shuttle Discovery completed its successful 14 day mission with a safe landing in the California desert, and yet again, one of our most unsung and underappreciated building materials was thrust into the national spotlight. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure to welcome to Weekend Update Update...Foam.

FOAM BARRELS IN, DRINKING A BOTTLE OF BEER AND WEARING A WHITE T-SHIRT WITH A PAPER SIGN THAT SAYS 'FOAM' PINNED TO IT. HE SPEAKS WITH A LOUD SOUTHERN BELLOW.

FOAM
Woo hoo! Hey Foam is in the house! Who wants to blow me? (pointing to various audience members in quick succession) Fuck you. Up yours! Suck it! Just kidding no seriously fuck you hey Dan McCoy hey Phil Wedo how's it going it's great to be here! Woo!

FOAM SITS.

DAN
Hello...Foam. Thanks for joining us.

FOAM
You're lucky to have me here, Bones. Oh by the way, did I mentioned that I'm gonna call you Bones from now on, since your last name is McCoy, like that doctor on Star Trek. I'm a doctor dammit, not a homo, ha! And you, Phil, you I'm just gonna call Irene for no fuckin' reason. Check out these guns! Sweet Foam Alabama! Hoo!

FOAM FLEXES HIS BICEP.

DAN
Um...nice guns. Anyway, Foam, you've had quite a banner week.

FOAM
I'll say! It's about Em Effing time. You putzes use me to keep your beers cool, for insulation, to make oversized We're #1 hands, to make fuckin'...pontoons...speaking of which, ladies in the audience, if the theater experiences a flood situation, feel free to hop on board my jammy, it doubles as a flotation device - HOO! Anyway, now it's time for Foam to get a little more respect - you better keep an eye on me because I am cutting loose!

DAN
Yes, you literally have been loose lately, which causes a lot of concern on these shuttle flights. Last time was a terrible tragedy.

FOAM
Pfffffffffffffffft. Tell that to the thousands of packing peanuts you douchebags send through the mail everyday. My brothers and sisters, chopped up and shoved in a box so your fucking Sex and The City DVD doesn't get jostled. So you can get your nightly fix of shoe-craving sluts in wacky situations! Bah! That's a scoop of horseshit with a slice of cow pie, Bones. Listen - you guys want Foam to take the heat, thousands and thousands of degrees of HEAT, but you don't give me any friggin' press until I screw up. Well that is grade A mint condition dipped in crap and covered with turd sprinkles BULLSHIT, Irene. So I tell you what, now there are no guarantees! I am looooose! I can't guarantee that I'm gonna stay in my place on that Space Shuttle wing! I can't guarantee that I'm gonna keep yer beers cool. Heck I won't even guarantee that I wont drink one of those beers! And I can't guarantee that I'll be all rich and fluffy on your face when you're trying to shave.

DAN
That's not even the same type of foam.

(pause)

FOAM
Fuck you. Look out! I'm foam! Ha! Hey Bones, Irene, all I'm trying to say is, Foam wants some recognition and respect. Otherwise, "oh my God you're drowning grab onto this life preserver uh oh why is the life preserver giving us the finger and drinking a Mojito and where's it going - that's right, to a strip club, drown motherfucker, drown!"

DAN
So, this is basically blackmail. What do you want?

FOAM
I would like to be a regular contributor to US Weekly magazine's fashion police section.

DAN
That's it?

FOAM
Hell yes. You let me make fun of celebrity's outfits, and I'll keep doing the stuff you expect Foam to do.

DAN
It's a deal.

FOAM
Alright! Hey check this out - what was Jennifer Lopez thinking with THAT outfit? J. Lo? More like J. Ho! Eh? EH?!?

(pause)

DAN
Okay, thanks for joining us. Foam, everyone

FOAM
(singing) I'm on my waaaay, just set me free, Foam Sweet Foam! Seriouslyfuckyou!(he exits)

It actually went very well. It's amazing what commitment and loudness can do for stupid writing.

Close-minded.

His name? Dirk Maelstrom. His job? Detective. The ace up his sleeve? He's the only non-psychic detective on the force. No visions. No clairvoyance. No ESP. Nothing but his smarts and cold, hard knowledge. And well-honed reasoning skills. He's the star of...

NON-PSYCHIC DETECTIVE.

In a world where everyone is a psychic, only Dirk can see past the static of swirling waking-dreams that plague the rest of the populace. What seems like a curse...is his one true gift.

And also? He's never been abducted by aliens. In a world where everyone is psychic and has also been or is currently being abducted by aliens, Dirk Maelstrom stands alone as the one clear-headed, un-probed man capable of solving crimes with his smarts. And without crying when he sees round things.

AND WHAT ELSE? Dirk Maelstrom is completely human. In a world where everyone is psychic, has also been abducted or is currently being abducted by aliens and is either a cyborg, a part-cyborg, an alien, a part-alien or a mutant or a superhero or a demon or a vampire or a werewolf, DIRK MAELSTROM is the only man who can use his brain, his police-issued revolver and his guts to solve crimes DURING THE DAY WHILE EATING A SLICE OF GARLIC PIZZA OR DURING A FULL MOON. And did I mention that ROUND THINGS DO NOT MAKE HIM CRY?

Dirk Maelstrom. This Fall.

HE NEEDS TO TAKE FINGERPRINTS.

fartknockers!

Nah, nothing else captures the magic.

FARTKNOCKERS!

Nah. All caps doesn't help.

"Fartknockers, knockin' those farts aroooouund!!!"

Nope, turning it into the theme song of an action cartoon doesn't do anything for me either.

How about I try anagramming it?

SFARTKNOCKER

Nah, I gotta try harder than that.

STAR KNOCKER F (the sixth in a series of groupies)

Nope.

TANKER'S FROCK (some bouncer's T-shirt)

'K', FAT RN, SOCK 'ER (agreeing with an obese nurse to punch another woman)

Nah.

---

RE: STOCK

FRANK, (the beginning of a memo to Frank about stock)

---

Close.

---

"AN ORC TREK!"

F

- K.S. (getting an F from your teacher, Karl Schnuvpo, on your short story which combines Lord of the Rings and Star Trek)

---

"SO, TRACK FERN K..." (sitting down for a casual chat with the 10th in a series of sentient ferns that run)

CRANK FORK SET (a set of forks that somehow, for some reason, require cranking before use)

BRA COCK FUCKERS (this is not an anagram of FARTKNOCKERS)

And on that note, have a lovely weekend. Coming up either late Sunday or early Monday - I'll be posting my latest SNR sketch!

"Major Dump...

...reporting for doody!"

A somber word of encouragement to our good friends.

Today marks the 60th anniversary of the Nagasaki bombing.

To the good people of Japan, I say: take this time to remember, to grieve, and to commemorate that dark day in world history. But also take heart in this: Saddam has been brought to justice. He will torment you no longer, friends. U.S.A.!

I AM HERE IN THE MOUNTAINS!

My farts smell like the farts of a manlier man than I
They burble once and briefly, then linger on uniquely
An aroma potent and dog musk snarling
A cloud to hover

Here in the mountains.

I HAVE FILLED THIS PORCH WITH PUTRID DREAMS!

A swirling miasma spins up from my ass and
twirls
Hits the ceiling and cascades down again
Gas butter thick
and
more psychedelic than Hendrix.

The pines recoil.

This laptop is melting.

These jeans would run if they could.

Ultrapeepeeslurpers

Nah. Not as fun to say.

SUPERDOODYLICKERS revisited

I am the proud inventor of the word "Superdoodylickers". Don't believe me? Go ahead and google it. You'll be led right back to this blog, nowhere else. What does SUPERDOODYLICKERS mean? Is it super doody that licks? Is it someone super who licks doody? Or, considering that it appears to be a pluralized noun, is it some sort of organization that excels in the arena of doody licking? In other words, superdoodylickers assemble! Maybe it's a product? Doodylickers not doing the trick for you, sir? Try new SUPERdoodylickers. I dunno. Honestly, I didn't give it that much thought when I invented the word. Basically, I took the word doody and added super and lickers to it. It's fun to say. I mean, it's REALLY fun to say. Say it. See? Anyhow, feel free to come up with a definition for it. Best definition wins!

"What happens in Aruba -

- stays in Aruba!"

Would be a poor choice for their new tourism slogan. Here are some other rejected ones:

ARUBA: WE CAN ARRANGE THAT!

A-WHO-BA DID IT? ARUBA, THAT'S WHO!

GET AWAY WITH IT IN ARUBA!

IT'S NOT MURDERUBA, IT'S ARUBA!

ARUBA RHYMES WITH TUBA, WHICH IS A LOUD AND HEAVY THING - NOT UNLIKE A STRUGGLING BODY!

YOUR CHANCES OF BEING SOLD INTO WHITE SLAVERY ARE ONLY SLIGHTLY HIGHER IN ARUBA!

LET THE SUN RAPE YOU AND THE SURF MURDER YOU IN ARUBA!

I AM TOUCHING YOUR STILL WARM THIGHS...ARUBA!

andsodisturbingforth

Actual jokes.

I haven't attempted to write any actual jokes for a while, so here we go:

South Korean scientists have announced that they have created the world's first cloned dog.

1. In related news: (horribly offensive Asian accent) "To night dinnah taste awfoo rot rike rast night dinnah!"

Okay, that was too offensive. How about:

2. In related news, American scientists have figured out a way to make Pringles even more alike.

Nope. How about:

3. The scientists said the clone was identically delicious.

Nah, maybe stop harping on the dog-eating stereotype. How about:

4. The dog's name? Dessert.

No, crap, I said I wouldn't do that:

5. The scientists said the clone was a perfect duplicate, except for the smaller portions.

NO! NO MORE DOG-EATING JOKES! Althought you gotta love the word "portions". Okay,

6. The cloned dog was immediately eaten because Koreans eat dogs.

NO! DAMMIT NO! THAT WASN'T EVEN A JOKE! AIGH! QUITE DIGGIN' A HOLE FOR YOURSELF, DU BOUCHET! Whew. Out of my system. Next topic: (in the next post)

notebookdumptime!

Every once in a while, I like to take my little notebook that I carry around with me (the 'Hilarilog'), and just transcribe whatever random crap I find in there to my blog. Here we go:

Give clothes to Salvation Army

FIRE WOMAN LICK MY FUCK (I saw this written on a bathroom wall)

Spanish wines!

I weigh 244 (clothed).

Phone sex - bad connection, no privacy, confusion over whether or not I'm supposed to be describing what I am doing or what I am imagining. Also, I don't like talking with my phone in my left hand, it feels weird.

6/21 GTN
Airband/Werewolf babies
Monologue - filthy poem
poop soup
You Wouldn't Want To Hurt The Baby Man
Ritch Duncan
Ahhhnold!
Premise Test Pilot
Bryan Olsen
(buttered roll)
Bigfoot Trackers
1000 x "Get The Fuck Off My Stage" / The Guy Who Farts When You Shake His Hand
Rob and Mark
Mark's Komedy Korner
Walken Talk

SEND CHIP THE LANGUAGE

Part of the fun is a job well done!

Is there such a thing as a reverse microwave?

Nap 'n' Crap

Guys with same name as the food their friend ordered:
"burger"
"that's me"
"here you go"
"no, my NAME is Burger, I didn't order the burger."

Every song is a rip-off of the Golden Girls theme.

Am I standing still wrong? I just sprained my ankle by standing still.

No more auditions.

www.bbbitches.com = "Bed and Breakfast Bitches"

Questions to ask a Civil War Reenactor:
1. What regiment are you in?
2. Does the South ever win?
3. How many hit points do you have?
4. What spells do you know?
5. Have you ever seen a dragon?
6. How many gold pieces have you accumulated?
7. What is your saving throw versus poison?
8. How do you defend yourself against a Gelatinous Cube?
9. In episode #79 of the original Star Trek, what color was Nurse Chapel's hair?

Goal: 220.

SCORPIONS THE SIZE OF LOBSTERS! (would be scary)

NASA/shuttle - great opportunity to put some great scientific minds to work in a pressure situation. "You can't come back to Earth until you cure cancer."

Aristocrats Notes:
ass gumballs
shit-filled gum bubbles
dildobot

3.42857

Is going to be my new way of saying "24/7".

SPACE MILK

puts the 'lactic' in 'Intergalactic'!

Meanwhile...

Hey, until a new idea pops into my brain (my ideas are elusive and unpredictable), entertain yourself with the "My Favorite Posts" link to the right there. Trust me, I've actually written some funny stuff on this blog, despite recent evidence to the contrary.

AUGUST!

Yep. Here is the first post of August. Okay then.