Revenge of the Frosting . . . and Pebbles

Surgeon General's Warning: This is a post about a group of 4 cub-scout-minded adults and reading this might be hazardous to your opinion of all of those living in apartment 24.

So, ok, now that you've read that . . .

About a week ago, a bunch of girls came and slammed frosting in my and my roomate's face. We swore and made a secret pact that all of them were going down. Big time. Two words, Cheez Wiz. Anway, later that night I walked outside and found this on my doormat:

In case you can't tell, yeah, that's a rotten orange with smiley face . . . .and one eyeball.

There was a note, "Hi, my name is Skipper. I want to be ur friend. Please take care of me by giving me cookies, or I will smush u w/ frosting--chocolate flavored."

We don't really respond well to threats.

Anway, last night, we wrote back. And sent Pebbles. This is Pebbles:

We also sent a voodoo marshmallow man with matches and a note.

"Hi, my name is Pebbles. I don't negotiate with terrorists. Squeaky here found out the hard way. Muah hahahaha!" Anway, we lit the matches in the marshmallow man on fire and put him on the girl's apt doormat, knocked and ran.

It took a couple of tries, but it finally worked.

I think it kind of freaked them out. We were very pleased.

And I hope my mom never reads this because she'll think i'm crazy. And really mature.

Freaking Amazing Toy Store

So, in New York City last week we went to FAO Schwarz. It's this massive toy store. Huge. And they have cool lego statues all over the place. Batman, Harry Potter, Hagrid, and yeah, Chewbacca. So I took a picture.

p.s. For the record, I'm the one on the left. There's been some confusion from other people who saw this.

Pools, Frosting and Peanut Butter

So, I thought I'd let everyone know about some of the more awesome things that are happening in my life right now. Here we go:

1. The pool at my apartment complex is no longer green. As in, the water now is clear, meaning that I can now go swimming in the mornings. Score.
2. So, today I was sitting on my couch minding my own business when three girls came in my apartment with their hands behind their backs. Suspicious? Yeah. Very Suspicious. And they were laughing. Girls laughing=so incredibly badly suspicious.
Anway, They came up to me and my roomate and slammed handfulls of vanilla frosting in my face. Doh!
3. I learned how to play a Format song on my guitar.
4. I bought a bag of peanut butter oreos.

cool eh?


Yeah, life is good

If Only a Tyranafaurus Would Come to the Bookstore

My work is really boring. Probably the most boringest (if boringest were a word) job of all time. Seriously. EVER.

I used to dream of having way cooler jobs. When I was a little kid I invented a place called Kid-slack. It was this amazingly cool mall/theme park/ food place/ toy store where you could do anything. There were water slides and dinosaurs like the Tyranafaurus which was a color changing dinosaur that could talk and run really fast. See, that would be a fun job. Play with dinosaurs. Play on water slides. Eat chocolate ice cream while riding on roller coasters. Make millions.

But no. I put clothes in cardboard boxes. Lame.

Anyway, when I was younger I used to have an amazing imagination. I mean what little kid hasn’t imagined himself as a superhero with amazing super-powers (flame throwing, ice throwing, big explosion throwing)? I used to go out in my backyard with my older brothers Sam and Paul (well, ok, mostly Sam, Paul grew up at the age of seven) and play amazing games, most of which involved some kind of improvised weapon made from old pieces of wood from the alley behind our house.

Oh those were the days. The days of obliviousness. No worry of anything except for how to put on band-aids. Now I work 40 hours a week in the dungeon of the Bookstore slaving away under the horrible tyrant known as “the boss”. No more having fun. No more having an imagination.

Well, so maybe I have sort of grown up a little. Maybe.

But, maybe I still do pretend that the cars driving by on the freeway are actually alien spaceships trying to take over Tucson and the only hope of survival is for me in my time machine pt-cruiser to blow them up using my hidden laser guns under the hood. But that’s normal . . . .right?