A zany conversation with a friend last night resulted in this submission to I Can Has Cheezburger? (which, in case you didn’t know, is “lolcats tagged for your convenience”).
Oi, soon to be part of the latest web meme.
|
|
|
It’s not the chocolate eggs…it’s not the bunnies…it’s not the resurrection….it’s…
I miss ASCII art.
My coworker Andy blogged His Ideal Fight. I think men are at a disadvantage when it comes to fantasy fighting, even if the demographics around slaughter movies and pile-’o-corpses video games suggests otherwise. Women have deeply repressed desires to kick the shit out of someone(s), but they’ve been so effectively de-socialized regarding violence that these desires are left to grumble and stomp around in their alligator brains.
My dream fight, like Andy’s, starts with a real incident: Recently, while walking my dog, I was followed for a couple of blocks (weirdly and scarily deserted in the middle of the day) by a psychotic junkie screaming threats and invective. Most of the Psychotic Junkie’s dialog below is from the real incident, except for his screaming.
=====================
Cue danger-type music (Jaws-ish, but not Jaws)
Camera: pan to show deserted streets, gradually pull in as junkie approaches the soon-to-be victim (me)
Over the soundtrack, we hear a low, ominous growl (Oi the Beagle doesn’t really have a low, ominous growl in her vocal repertoire - she has a kind of chain-saw rrrRRRrrrYIP! sound she saves for the seagulls that land on our skylight - but, hey, it’s my dream.)
Psychotic Junkie: Where ya going, ya ****ing **nt? Why the hurry? (peals of evil Psychotic Junkie laughter)
Jen and Oi walk faster. (This is a theatrical device known as “suspense”.) (more…)
…because the Post-It note un-stuck from my monitor and re-stuck to Oi’s tennis ball, which rolled under the bed, thus locking me out of my bank account for a week. (Previously, I hadn’t thought anything was capable of sticking to the Oister’s saliva-encrusted tennis ball.)
