Le Sang walks back into the arena after a long day and is aghast at what he sees; the entire group of respected fighters is in the middle of the arena engaging in a Group Hug*!! Shocked, our hero quickly comes up with a solution… he walks over to his corner and lobs a *Water Balloon filled with Kool-Aid[sub]tm[/sub] at the group.
That should bring them back to their senses…
Having been rescued from the embrace of Magdalene’s Group Hug by Le Sang’s Water Balloon filled with Kool-Aid[sub]tm[/sub], I quickly regain my fighting composure and launch a new assault.
Prepare yourselves for the earth-shattering power of the Illudium PU36 Explosive Space Modulator!
After a quick look to see what the heck an **Illudium PU36 Explosive Space Modulator ** is find that it is just another name for a blow dryer. So I use it to dry off all that kool-aid off me.
But how will you stand against the might of Little Debbie’s Oatmeal Creme Pies?
Thankfully, Le Sang successfully dispels magdalene’s feminine wiles quickly enough for us to regain our composure and recover from the Group Hug. BTW, who pinched my ass?! The Temptress of Turpitude has struck again! Well met, magdalene!!
Now, Busta strikes the pose of the One-legged Crane (a la Karate Kid), eyes his opponents, and unleashes his next volley. Little Debbie’s Oatmeal Creme Pies are no match for the Wax-on Wax-off Defense, as I easily deflect the pies aside, similar to the repelling effect Janet Reno would have on men in a night club. And (still on one leg), I deliver the fatal blow with…Three-day Old Kimchee Breath!!! Your resilience has left me with no choice. Even Godzilla would be proud.
Three-day Old Kimchee Breath, huh? Another bad breath attack? Just to put these down once and for all, I dispense Breath Assure to all.
Now, based on my experience this weekend, I know the devistation this attack can bring…but first, some background:
I drove a tad over 300 miles this weekend to go to a poker gqame with a bunch of guys I used to work with. Dime and quarter ante, nothing really huge, the buy-in was 17.50.
Except for one hand of blind baseball. We had seven cards, face down and 3's and 9's wild, *but* you had to buy them at .10 progressive. e.g.- first one is $.10, next 20, next 40, next 80, next 1.60…etc.
The game progresses, we each flip over one card until you have beaten the player before you. It was down to three of us, I had a full house, jacks over nines, Jim pulled a second wild card, giving him four 2’s. Daves turn brings him a 9. He buys the wild card giving him four 4’s. It cost him $25.60. My next card was a 3, a wild card if I wanted to pay $51.20. I did. Giving me 4 jacks. The pot on this “friendly little game” was well over $100. All wild cards accounted for but one, and it could still be in the deck. One card still down, it was Jims. He turns it…it was the last 3. Five 2’s.
SUNUVA…!
My challenge to you is a great hand that gets beat at the last second by an imaginary hand, costing you a bundle.
A great hand that gets beat at the last second by an imaginary hand, costing you a bundle. is a complex problem indeed. It is just for such an occurance, however, that I am taking Complex Variables and Applications - the math class that covers all things imaginary. I defeat your great hand that lost to an imaginary hand with i raised to the power i, which has an infinite number of real values.
Meanwhile… I sneak in an attack to keep the rest of the room busy: Bach’s Fugue in G-Minor (Little Fugue). Defeat its simple beauty if you can…
Bach’s Fugue in G-Minor (Little Fugue) is easily out down by ** Stravinski’s Firebird Suite.**
And since were on the music kick, may you have to sit through a Junior High school beggining band and chior concert.
I considered countering Junior High school beginning band and choir concert with tubal ligation but decide it’s an inelegant solution, when it can easily be defeated by tone deafness. Get down, get funky with the band version of ‘La Vida Loca’!
I in turn attack with long sought-after out-of-print book found on eBay for a dollar. What a deal!
Agh! Not the long sought-after out-of-print book found on eBay for a dollar! Resistance…weakening…
Defenses…crumbling… Must…hold…on…
Fortunately, the day is saved by Netscape 6, which has been regularly crashing my computer lately, thus preventing me from doing anything useful online. Phew!
And in return, I give you…a good noogy! (Well, Busta Rib said I could use it…:))
Your good noogy is the closest thing I’ve had to a massage in months <ahhhhhh> Thanks!
In return for this, you may now find you have post-nasal drip, no tissue paper and only the “institutional” toilet paper to wip with. For good measure, you’ve also got to deal with a very nice catch 22
Uh, make that “to wipe (your nose) with.”
Thanks,
-the mgmt.Since post-nasal drip, by definition, requires no wipage as it drains down the back of your throat (leaving only the decision whether to spit or swallow), your attempt to lacerate my nose cannot succeed. Furthermore, your Catch-22, nice though it may be, is rendered impotent by a pointless sequel.
Your paper and paperback attack has been shredded. It is poetic justice, then, that I return fire with Fawn Hall and Rosemary Woods. Prepare to be erased!
Fawn Hall and Rosemary Woods are beaten into submission by the gangbustin’ Bronte Sisters.
I give you all The Monday Morning Blues:
I woke up this mornin’
Had to be in by eight.
I woke up this morning’
Had to be in by eight.
But my piece of shit alarm clock
Went off an hour too late.
I got the Monday, the Monday mo-ornin’ blues! Yeah!
I got the Monday, the Monday mo-orning’ blues.
The Monday Morning Blues are easliy defeated by the Schedule from God, which has caused me to have no classes at all on Mondays… 
Meanwhile, I avenge myself for your attempt to ruin a perfectly good day off with an offer of Belgian chocolate from 1000 miles away! Thbbbbbt! 
I dig, but two can play at that game, sister. How about a hijacked smutty limerick:
There once was a man from Nantucket
Who once bought a chicken to pluck it,
When a thread that he read
Put new thoughts in his head:
“Why eat this bird when I could…keep it and sell the eggs, thus recouping the cost of my investment?”
[sub](not to be confused with “re-cooping” the chicken)[/sub]
My dear Le Sang, your offer of chocolate from too far away is cancelled out by the fact that I still have some of the chocolate you brought to my house.
jr8, jr8, what are we going to do with you?
Yoo,hoo! Siegfried! Roy! Over here! There’s a friend of mine I’d like you both to meet…
jr8’s hijacked smutty limerick is neatly exorcised by my Confusing Haiku:
*
Rochamboka Stands
Watching Obscure Reference
Humorous Response*
And, while you reel from my skill at Bad Poetry, I rabbit-punch your stunned form with The Thing That Your Aunt Gave You That You Don’t Know What It Is.
Offer me some chocolate?
Ooh – big kitties!
Scupper, I fear not The Thing That Your Aunt Gave You That You Don’t Know What It Is because I bought one just like it from the factory in Ibiza. Now let’s see how you like 256,379 AOL CDs through your mailslot…
That Thing Your Aunt Gave You… is exorcised by a creatively vague Thank You note.
Dear Aunt Hilda,
Thank you so much for your Christmas gift. You are so very thoughtful - how did you know that green is my favorite color? All of my friends comment on it when they come to the house. Again, many thanks. How can I ever repay you?
Best wishes for a Happy New Year.
Love & kisses,
Scupper
P.S. Per your phone message, I would LOVE to come over and massage your bunions. Name the day! I’ll get that special lotion you like.
Now I will watch the combatants scatter before my triple thread of clowns, circus midgets, and monkeys dressed in clothes!
Ach! Bunions! AOL CD’s! Clowns! Circus Midgets! Monkeys Dressed in Clothes!
I weather this unrelenting assault by virtue of my training on the slopes of Mt. Kilimanjaro, wherein I was pelted by pygmies armed with charcoal briquettes, chunks of volcanic glass, and unopened cans of SPAM.
As that rain of debris cascaded off of my bruised and battered form, so too your petty assaults I shed like water off a duck’s back.
My meditative vision brings me inner peace, crystalizing an image of the majestic bridge spanning the gap between Kilimanjaro’s twin peaks, whilst my combat-honed hindbrain performs a remorseless retort in the form of Seven Layer Dip With Plain Yogurt Substituted for Sour Cream! (German Texas Style)