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But damned if I didn't get bombed!
Blindsided, as it were. Never saw it coming.
So I get this cute, little packet Friday last from Merry Olde Ingleland with no outward identification of from whom it may have been sent from whom and no bloody idea what it may contain, having not boughten, traded, requested or expected any some such of which from.
"I know," sez I. "Let's open it, eh, and p'raps find out what it may (or may not) contain and from whenceforth it may (or may not) have issued."
Pretty clever of me, I thought.
So that's indeed what I did.
And out pops a cute, little bubble wrap wrapped parcel and a printed note. Quickly scanning to the bottom of the full page missive which has been transmitted to me across the dark and dangerous waters, I immediately espy the perpetrator of this nefarious benefaction: None other than our own La KittyDoor!
Now I know the identity of the originator, yet I know still not what he has wrought, nor why.
"I know," sez I. "Let's read the content of the Ms. and p'raps find out why I have become the receptacle of this unsolicited bonanza."
Pretty clever of me, I thought.
So that's indeed what I did.
And here's what I read:
ROFL, chortle, snark! Thought this was so clever, showed it to my lovely wife of lo these many years. "Holy fucking shit!" exclaims she, "this fucking Limey sounds like a British version of you!"
Welp, those weren't her words exactly, but it conveys the context, if you get my meaning, and I think you do.
Ennywaze, so I am now the proud recipient of four of the Worlds Finest Tea bags which I cannot wait to try (once I have made a suitable flowchart of the rather complex instruction set, lest I muck up the preparation) and experience the majikal attainment of True Enlightenment which I am sure it will provide me. Note, btw, that since these aforementioned Worlds Finest Tea bags have absolutely no identifying features, I felt no need to display them here for your viewing pleasure, since they look like... well... ah... tea bags.
Another story entirely, the other part of my prestigious award!
With trembling hands, I carefully unwrap the portion of the packet which is obviously not tea bags, it being of firm construction and weighing significantly more than would four bags of chopped up leaves.
And what do I find?
This:
Blindsided, as it were. Never saw it coming.
So I get this cute, little packet Friday last from Merry Olde Ingleland with no outward identification of from whom it may have been sent from whom and no bloody idea what it may contain, having not boughten, traded, requested or expected any some such of which from.
"I know," sez I. "Let's open it, eh, and p'raps find out what it may (or may not) contain and from whenceforth it may (or may not) have issued."
Pretty clever of me, I thought.
So that's indeed what I did.
And out pops a cute, little bubble wrap wrapped parcel and a printed note. Quickly scanning to the bottom of the full page missive which has been transmitted to me across the dark and dangerous waters, I immediately espy the perpetrator of this nefarious benefaction: None other than our own La KittyDoor!
Now I know the identity of the originator, yet I know still not what he has wrought, nor why.
"I know," sez I. "Let's read the content of the Ms. and p'raps find out why I have become the receptacle of this unsolicited bonanza."
Pretty clever of me, I thought.
So that's indeed what I did.
And here's what I read:
Originally posted by El Catador
Welp, those weren't her words exactly, but it conveys the context, if you get my meaning, and I think you do.
Ennywaze, so I am now the proud recipient of four of the Worlds Finest Tea bags which I cannot wait to try (once I have made a suitable flowchart of the rather complex instruction set, lest I muck up the preparation) and experience the majikal attainment of True Enlightenment which I am sure it will provide me. Note, btw, that since these aforementioned Worlds Finest Tea bags have absolutely no identifying features, I felt no need to display them here for your viewing pleasure, since they look like... well... ah... tea bags.
Another story entirely, the other part of my prestigious award!
With trembling hands, I carefully unwrap the portion of the packet which is obviously not tea bags, it being of firm construction and weighing significantly more than would four bags of chopped up leaves.
And what do I find?
This:
OMFG!!! A goddamm engraved seegar cutter! (Sorry for lousy picture but I had lighting problems what with the reflective nature of the shiny [stainless steel? silver? platinum?] construction of this magnificent device.
I am become teary-eyed and must needs take a moment to compose myselves.
Howmsomever, I am a trifle mystified owing to the rather minuscule size of this lurvely pi?ce de hardware (it measures approximately the size of a paper matchbook) and wonder if this is the reason you britfolk seem to favo(u)r those poncey little petit coroners size stoughies over the real MAN SIZE double coronas and suchlike. So, after a bit of fumbling, I manage to figger out how to open this sucker (I am, after all, a rokkit scientist) and it does this transformer thingy into a fucking guillotine!
which I have never seen before and which scares the shit out of me and, I am forced to admit, causes me to drop the shiny, slickery, little torture device.
Down mine pantaloons. Whereupon a great gush of blood ensued.
The people at the emergency room (after they had stopped laughing) said that they had never before seen anyone ever re-circumsize theirselfs in quite such a manner.
Thus the reason for not posting earlier.
But now, I would like to take this opportunity to thank the entire panel of judge who voted me this great, great hono(u)r. I shall cherish this award (even though I don't know what it is called) forever (maybe even longer), and will place it in the most prominent position amongst my many, many other awards (all of which have names, btw) which have been bestowed upon me on account of which I am such a nice guy and also devilishly handsome.
I would also like to thank my mother, my father, the great and powerful Oz, my agent, all my loyal and loving fans, the guy at the corner who sells me those stale bagels in the morning, and my 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Lipshinsky, who introduced me to the mysteries of life.
Kisses...
I am become teary-eyed and must needs take a moment to compose myselves.
Howmsomever, I am a trifle mystified owing to the rather minuscule size of this lurvely pi?ce de hardware (it measures approximately the size of a paper matchbook) and wonder if this is the reason you britfolk seem to favo(u)r those poncey little petit coroners size stoughies over the real MAN SIZE double coronas and suchlike. So, after a bit of fumbling, I manage to figger out how to open this sucker (I am, after all, a rokkit scientist) and it does this transformer thingy into a fucking guillotine!
which I have never seen before and which scares the shit out of me and, I am forced to admit, causes me to drop the shiny, slickery, little torture device.
Down mine pantaloons. Whereupon a great gush of blood ensued.
The people at the emergency room (after they had stopped laughing) said that they had never before seen anyone ever re-circumsize theirselfs in quite such a manner.
Thus the reason for not posting earlier.
But now, I would like to take this opportunity to thank the entire panel of judge who voted me this great, great hono(u)r. I shall cherish this award (even though I don't know what it is called) forever (maybe even longer), and will place it in the most prominent position amongst my many, many other awards (all of which have names, btw) which have been bestowed upon me on account of which I am such a nice guy and also devilishly handsome.
I would also like to thank my mother, my father, the great and powerful Oz, my agent, all my loyal and loving fans, the guy at the corner who sells me those stale bagels in the morning, and my 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Lipshinsky, who introduced me to the mysteries of life.
Kisses...
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