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Friday, July 13, 2001 - 9:34 a.m.
Everyone has goals.
Some are just weirder than others. One of my goals is to make people laugh...and thankfully I have a sense of humor, otherwise I could go through life very unhappy. For most people I'm happy simply getting a good guffaw out of them. But for one person I have a special mission.
There is a lady, whom most of you know, dressed all in black, with red hair and an english accent. Now, this person, we'll call her...umm....Laura. Now when Laura finds something REALLY funny, she curls up in the fetal position and squeaks like a hamster. Now what sane person wouldn't want to see that?
I remember the first time I heard the hamster squeak was when Bob was trying to teach me to blow fireballs at Reynards Easter party. I managed to blow a small, ugly fireball, but also managed to spit grain in my eye...Laura reveled in my pain...and I was able to laugh at her laughing at me, and that made it all good. Well...that's a lie, that hurt like hell, but it was sill funny watching her.
Anyways, I haven't had my hamster fix in a few weeks. Last time I got a hit was when I was lecturing the Last Chancers on my Theory. The Theory goes something like this:
If I don't interact in any way with a woman, then the only use she is to me is to look at. I have noticed that a large percentage of women have wonderful bodies, but sub-optimal heads. Therefore, some women simply would be better without heads.
I went on to ponder a future utopia, where you can go to the buffet and select the parts of a woman you like. I'm a butt man, so I just see my self looking through the sneeze guard at all the wonderous colors, sizes and shapes of butts to be selected. I know some people are more into breasts, and that's cool...it's over there just past the hair color buffet.
Anyways, by the time I was done, Laura was curled up, sitting on her feet in the fetus position, squeaking like a hamster. I can't tell you how awesome it is to succesfully turn someone into a Hamster Ball [TM].
Well, last night was the night. I'm not even going to explain what I said, because if you think the buffet thing was bad, you'd hate to know why Bob is actually three people, and what happens to Laura when he decides her Miata reminds him of a womb.
BEWARE THE MOCs,
I'm out.
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