HAAHAHAA!!!!!! THE SHIT JUST KEEPS ON HITTING THE FAN!!!!!!!

Okay, now not only has my librarian, my ex-counselor, and various friends who are getting randomly offended read my site, but MY AUNT has. Jill, Nooo! I'm NOT pregnant!

This is kinda screwed up....I create a site in which to blow off unhealthy BS that doesn't mean enough to be expressed anywhere else but means just enough to need to express at all, and EVERY ADULT I'VE EVER MET suddenly wants to take care of me. Or congratulate me on my happy news!



Okay, my attentions are spread rather thin right now, but I promised Rich kid I would put this on the site, and for good reason.....it's just too good! Hmmm, how to kick this off- I laughed for, like, an hour straight tonight. We did. It felt so good. It was......the weirdest shit imaginable, but the story must be told: He came over after I was out of work and my parents left, so we watched "Who Framed Roger Rabbit"- because that's what us bad kids do with the house to ourselves (no wonder I'm "pregnant"). Afterwards, we went to the kitchen and I proceeded to take a wooden spoon from the drawer and dub it a "swacking stick". He then informed me that I was combining "whack" with "swat", and that swack wasn't actually a word. So I swacked him. After this, I began swacking a still-wrapped Little Debbie Brownie sitting out on my table. When I had, through my swacking, streched it out to roughly the size of a hersey's bar, Andrew decided to try his hand at brownie abuse and through half of it, rather emphatically, onto the floor. At this point I looked at him disgusted and, not wanting to waste my energy on retrieving the brownie, took out my aggressions further by swacking a half-empty, somewhat tied up bag of popcorn kernels also on the table. This was vaguely dissatisfying, so I picked it up and batted it across the room with a nice healthy SWACK, not foreseeing that the kernels would leak out onto the floor. Andrew and I went to pick up the popcorn kernels, but when he attempted to sweep them into a dust pan I cried out "No! If it touches the dustpan, we won't be able to eat them!!!". Desperately. After receiving the appropriate amount of retribution for saying something THAT dumb, we sat ourselves down next to our fairly controlled pile of popcorn kernels, wondering, as only we would, what do to with them. It was at this point I decided the only logical action was to swack them, which I quickly found out made them scatter beyond our reach. Andrew started flinging them about the kitchen, attempting, mostly unsuccessfully, to flick them behind the radiator at the opposite end of the room. They were fairly well scattered when we started musing as to how we would explain this to my parents upon their return, at which point I expressed my desire to lay their among the kernels until they came in and then tell them that we were attacked by the corn- the children of other corn, no less- and the brownie tried to save us but failed. And to make them think we believed that. Andrew then begin to attempt to fling kernels into my belly button- the one sacred place on my body- so I defended myself rather violently. In this he managed to hold both of my arms behind my back in ostensible victory...for him, defeat for me, at which point I performed this amazing, un-imitatable kungfu-style move by hoisting my legs up, grabbing a large plastic magnet house- a toy that other magnets, spefically steve and blue of "Blue's Clues", with my feet, and flinging it into his head. While he recoiled in pain, I managed to free myself. We then discussed, in rather vivid detail, how the steve magnet, in the chaos, had been rotated and looked somewhat dead now, which lead us to our discussion of Blue's revenge, the sequel to the situation that we were now making into a movie in our mind, as we tend to do with many things. Somewhere along this point, I lay down onto his lap and he tried to leave, which I would not allow, so he started sort of dragging us about the kitchen. He stopped when his hand was about two inches away from the now previously forgotten brownie, which he then threatened to throw onto me. As I was somewhat held back by him once again, I defended myself by reaching over and hitting him, somewhat painfully, with the door of one of my cupboard, repositoning myself quickly, and pusing him into the brownie on the floor. I can't remember the events after that with much clarity, only that there was a massive struggle for the brownie which led to the majority of it getting smeared all over our bodies and in our hair. At one point, having gotten into the spirit of defending myself with things around me, we were under the table and I tried to attack him, in what I see now would have been in an extremely painful matter, but pushing the thing that holds up the extension in, thus allowing the extention to fall directly on what would have been his head- fortunately for him, when it was almost completely pushed in, a box of cake cones I had purchased earlier that evening fell and he made a big production of it, exclaiming excitedly that it might have killed him. His concern wasn't for nothing, however- we checked afterward and, yes, there was, sitting on that table extension, a knife that may have very easily injured one of us. We then entertained the notion that had there been two knifes, situated perfectly to fall into our eyes and kill us both, the police would never, in a million years, be able to figure out how the whole thing happened- us, violently intertwined on the floor, adorned with a little debbie brownie and surrounded by popcorn kernels, a spoon, a magnetic house, a box of deadly cake cones, and dead, with knives in our eyes, underneath a table. We figured they'd probably mistake the brownie smeared over my fingers for bile and come to the conclusion that I had given him, quote,"an ass job". Maybe none of you will find any of this amusing, but we couldn't help our hysterical laughter throughout any of it.....or, ya know, the stuff that happened afterward on the kitchen floor that I won't go into.

Suffice to say he went home with a VERY red, and somewhat bruised, neck. After the fact, we cleaned up in a rather odd way. Taking a sharpie with which we re-labelled the cake cones "deadly cones" and drew several skulls and cross bones on it, we emptied the box and sweeped and scraped all of the kernels and brownie bits into the box, which we replaced in the cabinet. This, however, was just for the reaction....we intend to save the box. With the mushed brownie, popcorn kernels, and various dust bits from the floor, forever inside it. We're that sentimental.




You know, if I wanted to come off as MORE sane than I previously had, I probably shouldn't have related that story. But whatever. If there's more to it that I'm missing, I'm sure Andrew will help me with the rest....but I'm pretty eager to end this post, how about you?

My name is Linda, and I fear "Blue's revenge!" On with it!