I used to work in the underground jerky network circle. The truth isn’t as sinister as it sounds- they actually use mainly frogs and ostriches.
They did kick me out after I told everyone that, but at least I sleep better at night.
Sometimes you have to come clean… It’s one of the steps. You’re on your way to healing.
It’s good to hear that. Now I just have to apologize to all the people that I’ve hurt due to my addiction…
People are going to think it’s weird when I apologize repeatedly to my stomach.
If that is what will start people thinking you’re weird then you are doing better than many of us.
People already though I was strange. At the least, odd, and, at the most, eccentric. But weird? People would have to see my collection of dried pound cakes with faces painted on them to upgrade me to that official status.
I have this visual of a shelf lined secret closet where all of your pound cake friends reside.
It used to be a shelf. I had to move them to the basement once the shelf got full. The basement is getting pretty full too… I would stop making these, but the flour keeps telling me that it wants another kid. Women…
Two choices… Face the wrath of flour or go get yourself fixed behind flour’s back..
“Get myself fixed”? I guess that means cut my hands off?
That wouldn’t work, since I ironically trained for years in Tibet to both learn how to paint and make pound cakes with my feet.
I think that should be included in an online dating profile…
I’m not sure if I want to know what that means…
Just seems like a sure fire way to snag the babes…
“I like long romantic walks on the beach, candlelit dinners, baking with my feet..”
“I also have hundreds of psuedo-children I made out of pound cake ‘living’ in my basement and closet. Watch out for my grumpy flour sack wife. This is not a euphemism.”
LMAO
You laughed until your rear end flew off? A doctor should probably look at that. I know a good guy- Dr. Flour Sack. He’s actually my wife’s father (and, I suppose, my father-in-law.) I sure hope he doesn’t read any of this.
Oh if only laughing removed rear end! It’s always nice to have a doctor in the family…
I’ve always been suspicious as to the authenticity of his practice. He seems normal when you first meet him, but then you look at the credentials framed on his wall and wonder when the Plumber School of Boston started giving out medical degrees.
Unless he claims to be a urologist, I would question it too.
I’m not entirely sure where this can go from here…
I suppose a great story has ended. One of the few great stories to end with a sentence containing “Urologist.”
We shall mourn for a moment.
A moment of silence…
…
…
*Checks watch*
…
…
Oh well, that was boring. What’s for dinner?
Jerky
And so it went full circle, a grand jerky palindrome…
It’s the circle of life…
And now I want to hold up a baby lion and sing…
THIS IS THE POLICE! DROP THE LION AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP!!
No habla ingles.
ESTA ES LA POLICÍA! CAIGA EL LEÓN! SABEMOS QUE USTED TIENE COCAÍNA- quiero decir jerky!
It’s IN the LION!! He’s a carnivore!!!
I thought you didn’t understand English!
Thwarted yet again by the police… Dang it!
Well, that’s a rap, men. Handcuff the llama and take the lion into rehab.
It seems like people are getting more and more desperate… and eating more and more jerky. It’s a damn shame…
Hanging my head in shame…
I knew it would come down to this one day.
You should have known better. It’s twenty years in prison and $800,000 in fines for possession of prohibited jerky and forced feeding of illicit materials to large felines.
If only you’d chosen teriyaki flavor and a Doberman. That’s only 2 hours of community service.
I’ll have my attorney argue that it was a baby lion, therefore NOT large yet!
That still nets you ten years in jail and… Surprisingly, twice the fine.
I will be an unruly inmate and have my friends bring me chocolate a cigarettes to use as money in the big house.
My sources tell me chocolate and cigarettes are no longer in prison currency. They now focus mainly on ancient Mayan artifacts. You’ll be broke, unless you’re friends with Indiana Jones or Edward Kenway.
It’s actually Ming Dynasty artifacts… Which I am stocked up on, only problem is smuggling them into prison, as they are quite large.
Ming is on the way out. I’m telling you, Mayan is where it’s at.
Mayan went the way of the calendar…
And Ming went the way of all priceless antique vases. Denis shot it with his slingshot.
Anyway, maybe the calendar was right, and it actually predicted a really tiny apocalypse in the middle of nowhere. A penny-sized mushroom cloud in Iceland.
Perhaps I will just have to rely on my stunning good looks, I do have excellent teeth for a llama after all. Between my looks, sheer charisma, and way with words I shall be fine in prison. Or I can be a politician. Meh, they are pretty much one in the same.
I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to be good looking in prison…
Also, it’s too bad you weren’t a politician in the first place. You would have been able to leap high above the law.
Both very good points. I may be in a lot of trouble.
I am open to jerky bribes, though. Too bad you fed all your jerky to the lion. You could have gone out scott free.
No addict gets rid of ALL her jerky…
Rule #1 of jerky club: never get rid of l your jerky.
Rule #2 of jerky club: never get rid of l your jerky.
Does that mean you have enough jerky to bribe me with?
I always have enough to open negotiations.
What flavor?
Pick a flavor, any flavor, what’s your fancy, what’s your style?
*opening the trunk and my trench coat to reveal hanging racks of jerky*
Why is so much of it green? Are you poaching aliens?
It’s so tender… Don’t judge.
Deal’s off. The last time I had alien jerky, I had wookieng-cough for a week. The smell of this stuff is making me… guh… Eraaaaaaaah! Reeeeaaaaah!
You’re going back in the slammer, bub. Let’s see how the alien inmates feel after they found out you’ve been chewing on their second cousin.
Get it? Chewing? Wookie-ing cough?
Bacca the heck up copper….
Only SOME of it is alien. Most isn’t. Although I have over consumed the wookie stuff. I used to be a hairless llama.
“Bacca the heck up copper”?
“Bacca the heck up copper”?
You know, I’m letting you off the hook for this whole jerky thing… and I’m suing you for the mental anguish that pun caused me.
This coming from the guy with the wookieing cough?!?
That is a serious medical condition!
I’m now going to triple sue you for both the mental anguish you caused me, the hate crime of insulting a serious disease, and the mental anguish you caused by that hate crime!
Can we come to am amicable settlement? After all, I am a llama. Think about how handy it could be to have a llama around. I could do all sorts of stuff… Like trim your lawn…
I could hire a bunch of illegal immigrants to trim the lawn of the mansion that your money is going to buy me!
You could probably hire them to spit for you too.
We are also known for spitting. So even your wookieing cough causes you to spit uncontrollably, you always blame me.
With all your jerky money I can finally get the operation to have my wookieing cough fixed.
All my jerky money? Man, my habit is bad. Sure I have some supply, but flat skint when it comes to money man. I can’t push the green stuff. People take one look at my gorgeous hair and back away.
It’s a curse I tell you. A CURSE!
Wait… maybe you’re a were-wookie?
Were meaning llama?
It would explain the hair… and the large claws flying towards my face…
I know a witch, according to the first comment on my nubbin post… If I were a werewookie I would have had her brew up a spell.
Oh, perhaps she can remedy your wookieing cough.
That occurred to me just as I read “brew up a spell.”
If you can get my cough fixed, find me a free mansion to live in, and give me a life time’s supply of jerky, you’ve got a deal.
Otherwise, you’re going into the slammer fresh from a triple lawsuit.
And believe me, you don’t want a triple lawsuit. A single lawsuit is pretty itchy, a double one is all scratchy and uncomfortably hot even in the fall, but a triple? It’d probably be pink to boot.
I’ll ask her for a recipe.
As for the mansion, would three refrigerator boxes attached by culvert piping, with a washing machine box wing suffice?
I’ve got you covered with the jerky.
Recipe? Sounds too complicated…
I guess the mansion would do, it has been a dream of mine since childhood to live in a giant cardboard house.
I’m not eating any of that alien jerky… if you can get me ten pounds of original flavored BEEF- and you must be sure it came from a cow, I’m sick of the ostrich stuff- jerky, you’re off the hook.
Don’t buy it from Jack Links, everyone knows that they’re the reason why you don’t see herds of sasquatch roaming the forest anymore.
Around here, Buc-ee’s has the best jerky. Granted their mascot is a beaver, but I have heard it can taste delicious.
Isn’t your father-in-law a urologist? Perhaps he has connections with other Plumbing College of Boston grads that can hook you up for your de-wookie-fication surgery.
I got an operation from him once for a separate condition… on the bright side, he’s now the supplier for the meds I take to write my short stories.
On the other hand, I have a squid tentacle growing out of the back of my neck.
And your main concern is fixing the wookie issue?
I have a lot of weird, supernatural medical problems. At this point it’s less about curing the more alarming ones and more about getting rid of the annoying ones. The tentacle doesn’t do anything but flop there and occasionally drag people into the briny deep while I’m sleeping- the wookieing cough, however, is loud and aggravating.
I get it. I’m a llama. With fabulous hair and claws.
I’m an herbivore with the aforementioned jerky addiction. Problems abound.
I think it’s probably more pleasant to be a jerky dealing llama than a corrupt addict cop with multiple freaky medical conditions who’s living in such squalor that he thinks a bunch of washing machine boxes form a beautiful mansion…
Perhaps. Grass is always greener when fertilized with llama poop. Either way you look at it, the junkie cop and the junkie llama are both spending their Saturday night engaged in blogging banter. The exciting life this llama leads.
Hey, this isn’t my whole Saturday night! I’m going to go out and get some KFC.
However, this conversation did constitute most of my Saturday… and my Friday… and Thursday… Wednesday, too…
This has been going on for a long time… it’s starting to make me question the direction I’ve taken with my life.
Don’t go all crazy and wild with the KFC… And pick me up a pot pie, would you?
And here I was thinking this conversation was bringing meaning to my life… Way to kick a junkie llama when they are down.
I was hoping you wouldn’t pick up on my llama-kicking hobby…
It’s hard not to when you’re the llama.
You seem surprisingly okay with the fact I’ve probably kicked your closest family members at least once.
Everyone needs a good swift kick once in a while.
Would it upset you more to know that, every once in a while, I go into petting zoos wearing steel toed boots, creeping menacingly towards the llama exhibit?
It does make me awful thankful I used my flowing locks of hair to distract the zoo keeper while I clawed my way I out of the cage to freedom…
Oh, you were that llama? You owe me two steel toed boots! They got all tangled up in you hair!
I was also dragged about forty feet before I thought to untie them, so you owe me all the teeth I lost due to the high number of rocks sticking out of the ground.
All I have are llama and shark teeth… You’re more than welcome to look through the bag of them and take as many as you like.
I have two left boots… In a men’s size 8…
I’ll take the llama teeth for a transplant into my mouth and the shark teeth for my necklace. The necklace celebrates the death of sharks and makes me feel better about the world.
As for the boots, it’s a damn shame. Though I do have two left feet, they’re size ten…
I’d recommend tanning the shoes into jerky. If you sell it to a gas station, no one will tell the difference, even if they weren’t leather.
After actually swimming with a hammerhead back in October, not out of anything but sheer stupidity, I can appreciate the necklace.
Sorry about the boots, I will slice then thin and sell them to the gas station. Not a bad idea. Want to go into business with me? We can hit up Goodwill stores and stock up on old boots.
I actually have a stockpile of old boots in my house. I can exchange them for genuine beef jerky.
I’m afraid I can’t go into business with you. I have another calling… shark hunting. Among Japanese fishing trawlers, I’m renowned for leaping into the water with nothing but a giant knife, some power armor, a bazooka, and a machine gun.
So, did the hammerhead avoid eating you because you’re a llama or because you were too hairy to get a grip on?
I’m going to go with singing Queen at the top of my lungs aided (scared) the shark from attacking.
And that is pure bravery. Going into shark infested waters like that. I bet your tentacle gives you an arm up on the competition.
Boooooooo! Not more puns!
I’d sue you for mental anguish again over the insult to my weird tentacle neck thing, but that’s been overdone at this point.
A llamas natural defense, other than the spitting thing, is puns. If we are going to hang out like this you will have to occasionally deal with a pun being interjected.
I knew a llama like you. He was a cold hearted conqueror, toppling nations and overthrowing the world for the one burning desire left in his cold heart… Jerky.
His name was Attila the Pun. And he shot my dog.
That explains your issues with llamas. I assured you, I am not a glory seeking dictator llama.
Are you sure you’re not a glory seeking despot llama? Or a fame seeking tyrant llama?
Llamas seem to be a greedy bunch… no offense.
Other than the occasional jerky fix and the odd request to procure me a pot pie, I am a fairly unassuming and undemanding llama.
Harvey Dent was an unassuming llama who didn’t ask for much.
Now look at him.
Don’t judge the bunch by one’s actions…
This doesn’t apply to apples or bananas.
Only llamas? It’s a conspiracy. Should have known, with you being a junkie cop and all.
And when can I expect that pot pie? A llama has to eat.
I’m not willing to actually order a pot pie. I thought you had a trunk full of jerky…
Suddenly you developed standards?
And have you not tasted the KFC pot pies? They are like llama crack… Veggies and that delicious flaky crust.
I can’t eat any vegetables that are both healthy enough and bland enough to be called “veggies.” I am the renowned director of “Fistfull of Chicken”, “A Few Steaks More”, and “The Gristle, the Burger, and the Porky”, after all.
Fistful of Chicken…. I may have let out a quite unladylike snort laugh at that.
I had many fistfuls of chicken at KFC. Some people like being fit and in-shape, but I’m content with fried chicken, pizza, and ice cream.
What if your “veggies” were all battered and deep fried? Would they then be considered taboo?
Indeed. Even if bacon were thrown into the mix. Veggies are just too horrible to imagine.
Bacon fixes EVERYTHING!!
I too once thought that bacon could fix every problem in the world…
But then I tried to use it to tape my radio back together.
You didn’t apply the bacon properly apparently.
It still didn’t fix the whole in the reactor chamber wall.
It did leave me with some delicious, green, glowing bacon, though.
You don’t eat green meat…
I don’t eat alien green meat. I DO eat green bacon.
It did make me grow an extra leg, though… a peg leg. It did help me get into the inner circle of Japanese shark hunting pirates, though.
Your “disorders”, with the exception of the wookie-itis, seem to really aid your shark hunting.
The wookieing-cough does help in shark hunting. If I can’t catch them, I can infect them.
Forget sharknado… It will be sharkbacca…
Sharks can’t survive the transition into wookieing-cough. They can’t produce the right sounds, so they explode like hand grenades due to the pressure.
That is an awesome visual. Can you catch it on film for me next time?
This has inspired me. Coming next fall: Pot Pie, The Movie.
It sounds like it will thrill all the senses!
Except smell, touch, sight, hearing, taste, smission, and ghostometry.
Oh it is fantastic! I even appreciate you testing it out to ensure it isn’t poisonous.
Yeah, I didn’t test it, I’m not sure who put the fork in it and took all those tiny rat-sized bites off the crust.
You were going to feed me poisonous pie?!?
No. I was going to feed you rat eaten pie that MIGHT be poisoned. There’s a big difference!
Ahhhh okay. At least you didn’t kick me again.
I didn’t technically manage to kick you the first time.
It’s the thought that counts.
Too bad that doesn’t work in the physical world, or I’d be able to sleep right now.
That is no bueno.
As you can gather by the 9 hour gap, I managed to fall asleep.
Are you part owl?
No, I just hiss and combust when in direct sunlight.
Though sometimes I just sparkle.
Oh… I didn’t realize you were homosexual… Perhaps we can bedazzle something sometime…
No, despite popular belief, I’m not actually gay. I just like to look fabulous.
Is it so wrong for a vampire to want to shine like a disco ball every now and then?
No, no it isn’t… glitter away!
*muttering under my breath about glitter being the devil’s tool*
I don’t GLITTER. Now I see where this confusion arose- I sparkle. Sparkling is straight, glittering is most definitely gay.
Glimmering is reserved for sea creatures and giant swords wielded by grand dragon slayers.
Shimmering is reserved for scales and eyes of said dragons.
I feel like I have been mislead my entire existence… Someone should write a sparkle manual.
I did. You can buy it for 20 bucks on amazon. It’s the most valuable three pages you’ll ever buy.
No, my “Dealing With Douche’s” is by far the most valuable 3 pages… cover, page one “DON’T”, cover….
Well, think about that. Someone is bound to learn that the douche is an unruly and unfriendly kind of person (at least, I hope you were talking about people,) yet you yourself mistook me for a gay vampire because you thought I was glittering and not sparkling.
It was a simple misunderstanding of your shimmer level…
Sigh… grasshopper, gayness does not increase with “level”. it increase with type.
One who shimmers shines as bright as one who glitters, but he still get all the ladies.
Now, try to take disco ball out of my hand.
Shimmer = straight
Glitter = gay
and why are you trying to get me to grab your ball?
This conversation is getting out of hand…
Unlike the disco ball.
You’re never going to be a llama-fu master at this point, grasshopper.
This is officially the most absurd conversation I have ever taken part in. Which says a lot considering the old people’s ramrod2000 vibrator conversation of 2006….
I didn’t need to think of that, grasshopper…
Now I’ve got more images in my head that I can never get out…
well, without another lobotomy, that is.
ah a lobotomy… all of the pieces suddenly click.
…Huh?
…Hey!
…I take offense to that!
It’s okay little buddy… I’d offer you a ride, but I’m not that kind of llama…
…Not sure what you mean by that, giant cat monster.
I thought we had put that in our past?
…You smell like purple.
I can’t help it.. I wash and I wash and I wash…
…Did you try washing?
I should try that…
…You smell like purple.
as do you… been hanging out with a llama too long.
…I smell like green.
…I could seriously use a shower, damn!
…But not as much as you could, purple cat monster.
You used to not judge llama’s by their color… what happened to you?
I said you smell like purple. I didn’t say I was judging you.
“purple cat monster”??? I am totally suing YOU now…
Nuh uh! I’m already being sued! Double indemnity!
Nice try bucko!
I’m suing myself for identity theft.
And who’s identity did you steal?
Mine.
That will make for an interesting witness statement.
I’ll have to run between chairs a lot. Hopefully the judge will have a sense of humor.
Good luck with that…
Judges are such sticks in the mud.
They are fun to poke though.
And toke.
I have yet to smoke a judge. I will have to take your word for it.
I meant their wigs. They’re all carrying, and that’s where they carry it.
I am not quite sure how one goes about smoking a wig either.
It’s not very good for you. It gives you hairy lungs.
Already coughing from wookie-itis. I would start coughing up hair balls.
No, your lungs actually get hairy. You won’t cough it up. You might turn into a yeti, though.
Will Jack Link’s come after me to make their Sasquatch jerky?
No, you’d be a yeti llama highbred. I can tell you from personal experience that llamas taste like crap.
I happen to think we taste fine thankyouverymuch!!!
The llama burger I had for breakfast begs to differ.
You may of had some bad llama. A commie llama.
The burger did have a mustache hanging out of it.
Communist dictator mustache? I mean other than porn-stache and tacky cop-stache, you are left with communist dictator-stache.
That and Tom Selleck.
You forgot dashing rogue-stache. Though slanted, it brings out the masculinity in any man’s face, no matter how melon-shaped. Women swoon when I walk in with my dashing, slightly weedy mustache.
People keep mistaking me for Mexican, though…
Mexican cops scare me. They send people to Mexican jails. You know what they did to my cousin, the donkey, in Tijuana??
No, because I’m not Mexican, damn it!
Why does everyone assume that?
…though the discount at Taco Bell is nice.
Excuse me Señor. Can you repeat slower and louder?
I A-M N-O-T A M-E-X-I-C-A-N!
Ohhhhhh…. I’m sorry.. I don’t speak Mexican… I’m from T-E-X-A-S… we’re N-E-I-G-H-B-O-R-S!
It is a pain in the butt to type with hyphens between caps.. LOL
You think it’s a pain to type that with a keyboard? I had to type the original on my tablet! It seemed to take an eternity…
LOL You win!
I’ll celebrate with a taco. Half off.
It’s the Mexi-stache…
And the sombrero. And the trumpet. Don’t forget the poncho. And I paid them in pesos.
You were a one man mariachi band! Impressive.
I had a tiny tuba surgically implanted into my cheek.
It makes embarrassing noises when I try to sigh or when my wookieing cough acts up.
This is officially the strangest conversation.
For you, maybe. This is just a Tuesday for me.
Granted, a pretty weird Tuesday…
Tuesdays tend to run the gamut of odd.
I find Tuesday, Wednesday, and Sunday to usually be pretty boring and ordinary.
Thursdays are wild and crazy?
Thursday used to be pizza day. It isn’t now…
But a man can dream, though…
A man can dream.
Ummmm olives and mushrooms!
HERETIC!
We only use pepperoni in the civilized world…
And now you expect me to believe you exist in a civilized world? Nice try…
Hey! Three legged, part wookie, part yeti, one man mariachi band, junkie, corrupt cops are highly respected in today’s society!
There are more of us than you might think.
But how many with a neck tentacle?
Well… I try not to let people know about that…
It’s hard to hide when you are in your custom Japanese trawler shark diving wet suit.
Wet suit? I don’t wear a wet suit! I wear a thick kodiak fur coat, along with my usual daily attire of a He-Man harness and rhino leather pants.
Then I plunge into the icy, fin studded waters, my harpoon in hand and a brutal expression hidden beneath a face filled with scars, pulling my shark tooth necklace out of my shirt as I plunge into the murky tide.
You paint the loveliest of images with your words. Hahaha
I liked that one so much I might have to put it in a real story…
I actually have the perfect one lined up for my blog within the next few months, I could put it in there…
Minus the part-yeti, wookieing cough, tentacle neck, peg leg, tuba implant, jerky addiction, constantly mistaken for a mexican part…
Uh yeah… Definitely leave the Mexican part out. That just makes it weird.
I suppose it doesn’t add to the dramatic, intensely cool atmosphere to be wearing a He-Man harness, either…
On the bright side, at least I wasn’t wearing the loin cloth.
No, the He-man harness toes it all together and makes it make sense. It’s a plot thickener.
It doesn’t make sense if I don’t wear the loincloth… and I’m NOT wearing the loincloth.
You’re a shimmering type. You could pull off the loincloth.
This is starting to drift toward the “Fabio/Llama” fanfiction territory. Is He-Man also into llamas?
Sparkly ones….
He-man is into sparkly llamas?
You didn’t know?? Don’t tell him I told you!
Too late.
Don’t be surprised if he’s breaking down your door in a few minutes…
You might want to put some glitter in your fur…
I am already wearing my custom adapted She-Ra outfit… I look quite good in it for a llama…
She-Ra llama.. that is one weird image.
She-Ra-Llama
That is totally my new porn star name.
There is a huge market for llama porn in Tijuana, you know..
I’M NOT A MEXICAN!!!!!!
ASDFASDAFGAGA $!#@$!@#$!@#$!!!!!
I’m sorry. The mustache confused me…
Isn’t He-Man there yet?
Oh he is. He likes the outfit. Asked to borrow it c
Creepiness aside, how would he fit in a llama adapted She-Ra outfit?
He said, and I quote, “I can make it work!”, when I asked him.
When is Skeletor going to show up? This episode is starting to drag…
and get pretty damn creepy…
I kicked him out. He was being disrespectful and I don’t tolerate that!
You go, llama girl! You are a strong, independant, snowy llama and you don’t need no skeleton to tell you what to do, mmm hmm!
I totally snort laughed at this! Bwahahaha
Don’t you go letting him back into your house, girl. You know he’ll go from sleeping on the couch to ordering you to get him his beer on poker night with all his friends, ya’hear.
Shoot this llama learned her lesson a long time ago! Which may be why I am sexually deprived. Haha
Deprived? Girl, you got He-Man making goo-goo eyes at you. Ain’t nobody gonna pass up that hunk of man.
(Instantly retconning the “strong, independant llama who don’t need no man” speech.)
Lmao!
That was the weirdest gender bender I’ve ever had to type…
Don’t make a girl go is recovering from being super sick laugh so hard she can’t stop coughing! The little llamas are looking at me strangely.
Your children were nearby while we were having this conversation about He-Man/Llama relationships?
Now I feel even worse about typing the words “hunk of man”…
No. I have a herd of miniature llamas.
Are they genetically enhanced? I have a tiny barrel of genetically stunted undead monkeys I keep in my side table.
Slightly. I do have a matched clone pair. Created and came into existence on the same day.
I have a lot of matching pairs of various animals I keep on my mystery island, the Island of Dr. Monk-roe. Cloning is my favorite sinister pass time since necromancy fell through…
*blink* *blink* *blink*
Oh, are you a tri-clops too? I recently added my third eye right where that pesky nose was.
I also have an addiction to medical procedures.
Yet can’t fix the wookie-ing cough… you are dumping all your money into beautification procedures, aren’t you?
Hey, I want to be the perfect me I can be!
After all, who wouldn’t want a three legged, three eyed, part yeti, part wookie, part squid, cloner, drug addict, jerky eating, dashing, mariachi playing, corrupt policing, gene manipulating, ethically ambiguous shark hunter who lives in a bunch of washing machine boxes stapled together?
You make me want to be a better llama… I am now inspired!
Start by getting that tail removed and replaced with something else… like a basilisk or a ouroboros.
I was thinking kangaroo tail… That sucker could come in handy.
How about the horse part of a centaur?
I’m a llama, defeats the purpose.
The horse part could carry you around, while lofting you into an upright position so you could kick your enemies!
As could the kangaroo tail, but with a bit more bounce in my step…
Maybe you’re looking at this from the wrong angle- a cyborg style tail could help you out immensely. It could be forty feet long, turn into a sword (like in Pacific Rim,) and pick up cars so you can throw them at people.
But you women don’t seem to be into the “Crush all who oppose you!” mentality. Not to be sexist, but based on past experiences, that surprises me…
I own and operate too many firearms to not have a bit of the “crush everyone who opposes me” mindset… LOL
You say that now, but put a bunch of jackass alpacas (after all, everyone knows llamas hate alpacas) in front of you and a car to fling at them, and you’ll choke. You all do.
I remember the time I tried to make my aunt throw a skyscraper at that rude hotdog vendor… she just smiled and laughed, saying “Oh, you’re so funny.” The missed opportunity saddens me to this day.
Put my cloned miniature llamas behind me and I will throw the car each and every time…
Fine then, Ms. Confident, if you’re so keen on crushing those who oppose you, get the cybernetic tail upgrade. Unless you’re too.. alpaca.
Oh hell no.. you didn’t!!!
I have the cybernetic Roo-1000 on order thankyouverymuch!
Oh, I’m so scared… alpaca!
“Beaaaa… baaaaaa. braaaaaggggh…”
I’m not sure what noise alpacas make…
Bawk Bawk Bawk
I’m pretty sure alpacas don’t cluck.
Not completely sure, though…
They do….
I thought they sqwauked. Or squealed. Or bleated.
But clucked?
Not in my wildest dreams.
And I’ve had some really trippy dreams.
Like that one where Willy Wonka was part of the minivan’s armrest and he abducted me…
I have only had fly baby dreams.. and Tom Selleck coming to my civil war plantation dreams…
That is a lie.. I have had more, but those were the weirdest and recurring…
I have very few dreams. I only really dream when I see nightmare fuel and my brain feels the need to build on it…
I also have frequent dreams where I’m standing on a rock formation in Monument Valley, and then I suddenly raise my arms and slide off of it to my doom…
Those recur all the time, since I was a toddler…
which is really creepy since I didn’t know about Monument Valley until I was 13…
And of course there was that one dream where I got to be a pokemon master.
I wish I’d had that one.
Only one I have had since I was a kid was where I was being chased by a dog and had to keep an ice cream cone with 31 scoops from falling as I ran… I have had overwhelming control issues from childhood apparently.. LOL
Mmmm ice cream…
At least it didn’t eerily foretell a death you couldn’t possibly have imagined at such a young age…
I still stay away from monuments and valleys, just in case.
I am totally going to google Monument Valley… Seems like I should know what this is.
And on a side note.. HOLY CRAP my blog just hit 850 followers in 5 weeks!!!
Good for you… *grinds teeth*
I can only imagine what getting to know you forms would look like if at this very moment we filled them out for one another based solely on the discovery process from this conversation.
From what I’ve gathered, you’re a sexually deprived llama with a thing for Safeway who has way too much hair due to a bizarre medical condition and constantly OD’s on jerky made from aliens. You also enjoy swimming next to dangerous sea creatures and genetically engineering tiny llamas to help you crush those who oppose you (damn, this would make a great dating site profile.)
You are also nurturing an addiction to medical procedures which I instilled in you. Go me!
*copy* *paste*
It would make for a good dating profile… And scarily enough it may weed out the weirdo’s….
Good luck… The last woman to reply to my dating profile… was…
SHE-RA!!!
Wah hah hah hah ha!
*collapses into weeping ball of sadness in the corner*
It just started to sink in… that she really left me… for freaking JEM!
It’s the star on the eye thing.. it is hard to top.
But I have three eyes! Surely that’s good enough for her…
then you need two stars.. one up Jem! You can do it!
But what about the hair? And the extraneous body parts?
I just don’t think a guy like me can win back an annoying, abusive princess no other man wants…
Then RISE ABOVE!
I know… I’ll get a giant toe attached to my chest so I can open doors more easily! She’ll love it!
I can’t believe you took this long to figure out what would truly impress a girl.
And I could graft a finger to my upper lip so I can easily pick my nose whenever I feel the urge!
Women love efficiency.
Do you have any extra fingers handy?
Oh, I see what you did there…
Booooooo!
and Monument Valley is gorgeous, I totally did know what it was.. and would not like to fall either..
The creepiest part of the dream was that it was a third person view, and I suddenly slid without moving over the edge, to my doom a hundred feet below.
Also, it was so hot any ice cream I had on me surely would have melted.
Bad combo… Melting ice cream and a sure death.
It’s probably the saddest scenario imaginable. Especially the ice cream… all that phish food, gone to waste…
Ben and Jerry mourn…
Don’t worry, I still have some Americone Dream…
Any Cherry Garcia?
No… BECAUSE I’M NOT MEXICAN!
okay okay okay… sheesh.. calm down… What are you, like from Mexico then? *said in my most ridiculous valley girl voice*
Then remembered you are anti-valley…
That’s actually hilariously apt, since the valley girl voice aggravates me to no end!
Is there anyone who doesn’t get aggravated by it?
Valley girls, apparently.
I suppose valley guys have gotten used to it by now.
I’ll put “avoid valleys” on my bucket list.
Don’t forget “avoid monuments”.
I hate those monument girls and their annoying voices.
Even worse than valley girls.
I think it’s the tinny, coppery, steely effect that really gets to me, even more so than the valley girl style.
That didn’t make me feel much better…
If I wasn’t assured in the pile of ultra macho testosterone that I am, I would question my masculinity now…
I may be a deprived llama, but you are a depraved… creature?
Oh, I’m definitely human. At least, the character that represents me in my short stories is…
You should definately read those. All of those. Tell your friends! Buy a t-shirt! Spy on your friends to make sure they read them all, too!
Do it. NOW!
Spy on my friends? Last time I did that I caught them spying on me. Nose to nose with binoculars. Awkward.
Better than nose to nose with drones.
Oh, that takes me back… one of the many girls who refuses to talk to me now.
You’re still more skilled at illegal spying than the NSA.
Very good point.
Whoever was assigned to read this just shed a single tear and sighed. He’ll get used to it eventually… but it still hurts.
I only wish I could peek at my NSA file… I am sure they have assembled all of my online personalities by now. It would be quite interesting.
I also pity the poor fools that signed up to receive follow up comments on this thread.. they may be the ones that Axe Bombed my house on Sunday…
That poor guy who was talking about African jerky is probably standing in the burnt rubble that was his computer, confused and upset, while the screen’s final image flashes: WAY TOO MANY EMAILS! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!
And he was such a nice fella… *holds hat over chest in mourning*
I seriously hope he didn’t read the part where Fabio made out with a llama.
Or the part where He-Man made out with a sparkly llama while dressed in a She-Ra outfit made for a llama…
or the part where I called He-Man a “hunk of man”…
It’s out… everyone knows how you feel about He-Man…
It’s out… oh, even She-Ra knows… I thought she and I had a good thing going…
Though I’m pretty sure she was cheating on me with one of the thundercats.
No it was Jem…
I always did get that vibe from both of them… though it might just be the canned voices, terrible microphone quality, and grainy film that made so many of them give off the whole “Fruitastic!” feel.
and the glitter
This conversation is so politically incorrect…
LMAO That is part of the beauty of it.
It makes me feel like I’m breaking all the pointless rules our society has…
It makes me feel…
like an outlaw.
*Western whistling music plays in the background as I pull out my revolver*
which ties right into my firearms comment…
“Waaaa-oooh-waaa-oooh-waaaah!
Waaah waah wahh.”
And so, the brave shark hunting outlaw and his hairy wookie llama sidekick rode into the sunset…
chased by a lot of screaming politicians and a small group of protesters.
For a while I was “sidekick” to my bestfriend, “Poster child”… alas.. he friend dumped me…
I was relegated to “Kick” with no side.. and that gets awkward and painful when people take it literally…
Well, with the “side”, he would have probably kicked you with the side of his foot like a soccer ball, which might just hurt more. Especially if he took it extra literally and side kicked you in your side.
There must be a thing for llama kicking.. is it some underground sport that I am unaware of?
Damn, I spilled the beans…
As long as you don’t find out about our deal with Filson’s Steel Toed Boots, I think the massive conspiracy of llama kicking is probably safe.
Good thing I ordered that tail…
Oh damn, I hadn’t thought of that… I’d better assemble the Brethren of the Steel Toed Shoe… We’ll have the biggest war on our hands since the Great Llama Hyperspace War of 2258.
I have ordered mini tails for my clones… I am mounting my own cyberllama minion uprising!
And so it began… the bloodiest war in history, between the cyber llamas and the Brethren of the Steel Toed Shoe…
Two hundred million people and llamas died on the eve of the war…
And there was no sign of either side relenting…
To think it all sparked due to a conversation about jerky.
The first casualty was the poor South African’s computer… went down in a fiery explosion….
The next three were pots of brownie batter I stuffed my face with.
It’s not easy being a single llama in the ‘teens…. (And “in the ‘teens” just doesn’t have the same ring as “in the ’90’s)
From what I gather from all these sayings, it’s not easy being anyone any time on earth.
Or Chester Cheetah.
Indeed, it isn’t easy being anyone one on Chester Cheetah.
The orange stains are a pain to remove.
I know, I lived on Chester’s snout for two years in a little bungalow. He just kept shoving more and more cheetos in his fat face… it was both sickening and distressing, as I had to watch his descent into morbid obesity and wash all the dust out of my clothes and curtains.
It’s sad what a food addiction can do….
And just like that… Back to jerky.
The steady anchor that has held this conversation together from the start.
I was surprised to read my first comment in the chain, I barely remember typing it.
Time sure flies when you’re on LSD.
Maybe that is why my time seems to go in slow motion…
I’ve been looking at the trails my hands make since this conversation started a week ago…
I haven’t slept at all. I’ve just been staring at my hand…
Duuuuuuude…
It was the green jerky.
No, it was the cocktail of LSD, wigs, and shark burgers. I’m perpetually tripping spheres…
Yeah, well I totally had a second cup of coffee… hell yeah… with sugar…. that’s how I roll….
And I totally had my third chunk of rainbow cotton candy… gosh darn, you betcha… with a swiss roll and a glass of milk… that’s how I spin…
What is it with men and Hostess products? ew
I actually shipped twinkies overseas… LOL
I didn’t buy them from Hostess, I bought them from my dealer…
They call him the Snack Artist.
He works at Safeway.
And he charges a dollar less.
Does he keep them in his trench coat and trunk like I do my jerky?
No, he sells them in yellow boxes with drawings on them…
Do they seriously not have the Snack Artist in your Safeways?
They don’t have safeways… we are deprived I told you!
You said you were sexually deprived. I didn’t know you had a thing for Safeways.
You really can get a lot there…
I usually go there for swiss rolls and bread, not whatever it is you’re after, you sick llama…
Chocolate… I am female…
You women think only you can binge on chocolate…
But I have proved that men, too, can be chocoholics!
I have eaten three potfulls of brownie batter over 2013.
I couldn’t even wait for them to bake.
All in one sitting or do you dip in and take a spoonful per day?
You kidding?
I sat down at the dinner table and shoved the entire pot INTO MY FACE.
Because I’m that hardcore of a chocoholic.
I did get a nasty tummy ache, though. Too much raw egg…
and probably a hell of a breakout…
Have you ever tried dipping your entire head in brownie batter?
It de-ages you. My frown lines were gone after just a couple soakings. But you don’t have to take… my word for it.
does it just fill in the wrinkles? After all I am a llama who would probably by considered middle aged now… by her mother… not that I harbor any ill will for her stating that on my last birthday or anything…
It does kind of fill in the wrinkles… with caked, soon-to-be-rotting brownie batter… and the egg does attract a lot of birds, bees, and bears…
But still, your friends will find you much funnier! Everyone was pointing and laughing at me, saying “Hey! Sertimer washes his face in the outhouse!”
I don’t know what an outhouse is, but I assume it’s where all the cool people go to wash up after a long, hard day of brownie facial treatments.
Yeah, you dip your face in… Just make sure you keep your eyes closed!
I don’t need to close my eyes, I have crocodile secondary waterproof eyelids.
Also,”Don’t wanna close my eyes! Don’t wanna fall asleep! I don’t wanna miss a thing…”
You may have been singing Queen when you swam with the hammerhead… but I was humming Aerosmith as I dove into the fin filled waters face-first.
Cause I’m a manly man. Thing. Manly man-thing. Whatever I am, I’m damn manly.
Aerosmith would be my number 2 band of choice….
Did we talk about Queen and the hammerheads here? I can’t remember.. LOL
Aerosmith isn’t actually that high on my list. I just hum it because it’s catchy.
My favorite music is either One Direction or Justin Bieber.
Figures… but do you like then more or less than Backstreet Boys and Cher?
Backstreet Boys?!
“I waaant it thaaaaaat a-way…
Ain’t nothing but a… um… latterday, I’m… uh… something of a scatterbrain, Oh I want it that way!”
And back to He-Man being a hunk.. just like that.
Man, if I’m not fruity enough to remember more than “I want it that way,” out of a song TITLED “I want it that way,” I’m not deserving of this He-Man suspicion.
Even if I do find him gorgeous.
It’s the quasi-Fabio hair…
What, my rugged war braids?
I’ll have you know chicks dig these things.
It’s just a side effect that they happen to look fab-u-lous!
Is it the shampoo?
Shampoo? What’s that, some sort of towel?
*Mud drips out of my hair as some lice jump out of the inflamed bald spot on the top of my head*
No wonder She-Ra digs Jem…
Oh, She-Ra, I’ll miss you…
You always used to yell at me and tell me I was barely half a man, then hit me with a newspaper…
WHAT WILL I DO WITHOUT HER?!
You can hire a mexican for cheap to hit you with a newspaper and yell at you… I am sure you have connections..
They’ll probably give me half off due to confused nationalities, too.
But a fat hairy mexican guy can’t hold a candle to my beautiful, blonde, bitchy aphrodite…
LMAO!
*holding my hand out to shake* I’m Lisa, by the way.. Nice to meet you…. over 500 comments later.
I try not to shake hands. Sometimes adamantite claws shoot out of the knuckles. I hope you can accept this humble high-five…
You already know my name. Lemur Man.
Though my friends just call me Sertimer. Or Sert. Or Sretlemur. Sometimes Dan. Or Bob. Occasionally Dr. Anomalous. Never Mike.
I was called “The Twelfth Doctor” one time, but I think that was just a fluke.
Anyway, pleased to meet you. Having met you before. And having talked to you for the better part of a week.
And anyway, I think you’ll find my wording to be “hunk of man”, not just “hunk”
Forgive my mistake, I would hate to have misquoted your special affections for animated characters.
Maybe now that this whole He-Man business is cleared up, She-Ra will come back to me…
There is still the issue of Jem…
You’re right… I suppose I’d better set my sights on a more realistic target…
Is Velma still single? I heard she stopped running with the mystery gang.
Ah I bet I did when we first brought up sharks..
I’m guessing that story about you swimming with the hammerhead was a lie…
A DAMN DIRTY LIE!!!
Oh it wasn’t a lie… It was friggin awesome. I think I should have known it wasn’t safe when we didn’t see a single fish in the ENTIRE area we were snorkeling in…
You’re a braver llama woman than I.
Personally, fish creep me out. Goldfish, clownfish, barracudas, remoras, oarfish, arapaima, you name it, it creeps me out.
Eels are cool, though.
I dig water… Big time. Pools are nice, rivers cool, lakes better, but the ocean tops them all hands down.
I’ve been known to glance at glasses of water and scream in horror, then run out of the room shouting “I THINK I SAW A SHARK!”
Kind of contrasts the whole “Diving into arctic pool filled with sharks armed with nothing but a harpoon” thing.
How do you do with the whole, “must shower regularly” thing?
Show..er?
I think that means “to douse someone with wealth”, right?
I’m cool with being doused with money on a regular basis.
If that is the case, can I be doused as well?
No. Llamas don’t get to be doused with riches. Only llama slop.
I should have been a cow.. then I could at least be revered in some cultures… Although repulsive in others.. I suppose being any animal has it’s drawbacks.. Even T-Rex got the short arm deal working for them…
Why do people always overlook the allosaurus? They were big (almost t-rex sized), fast, agile, cool-looking, and they even had long arms to boot!
Plus they got awesome head ridges.
Oh… Can I be one of those? Know a good scientist that can change me?
I have a hobby of turning obscure farm animals into even more obscure dinosaurs.
You just have to make sure that you’re okay with being legally filed under “monstrosity”. I’ve had too many angry clients come banging down my door because of the whole “Police officers are legally obligated to throw tomatoes at you” thing.
I need to read a contract and indemnity clauses first…
Just scroll to the bottom and check the little box.
Don’t worry.
You’ll be “fine.”
Damn, that was really cinematic, I should use that for something.
Insert some soothing background music when you do.
It’ll be soothing, but as soon as the bald, creepy scientist guys says “You’ll be ‘fine’…” the music will abruptly fade, and the camera will pull back, the room filled with shadow, only the scientist and his desk visible, lit as though by some invisible fire, his voice echoing in the background “Fine… fine… fine… fine…”
And finally, a soft cackle fills your ears as the scene fades to black.
Perfect cinematic effects.
Of course, then I actually need a story for the rest of it, which is pretty much the deathknell for a fairly hard to use image.
Always over thinking things…
Well, I suppose I could just copy and paste it into a blog post and put it out there for no reason, with no leadup and no editing. My subscribers are used to lack of effort. I haven’t published anything since January 7th!
Always a date devil. Haha
I’ve been blogging for three years… and most of it has been spent on hiatus.
Ah I am a newbie. Only since July with my real life serious blog and this one for five weeks.
Real life? Serious? That sounds hilarious and positifically funtacular!
Yeah. It sucks. And this is buried far enough in comments odds are no one else will see:
Stumblingonward.wordpress.com
Oldest first for the true crazy to be effective.
Oh, come now! I’m sure it can’t be worse than my blog.
My next post is going to be about a headache I had two weeks ago.
I’ll have to see it later, I need to go to sleep ASAP so I don’t miss a pizza incoming later today.
Take care!
I got my pizza… it was delicious… but it was so filling…
Double the cheese, with as much sauce as possible.
And ALL pepperoni.
okay.. that seriously sounds good… Like sinfully deliciously gooey good… Better than my leftover chili.
The pepperoni was cooked to perfection, bringing out its juicy flavor while still making it crispy around the edges. The cheese was gooey, and plentiful enough so that it dripped off the pie. The sauce was overflowing, held down by the cheese, flowing like a delicious torrent of herbs and spices into my mouth. The crust was crispy and soft, supporting it like the foundation to a building.
In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have said all that since you just mentioned your leftover chili.
You ruined it with the rivers of sauce… I am a light sauce kind of gal…
Guess my chili will suffice, which it was going to have to anyhow as it has already been consumed.
LIGHT SAUCE? I’ve never heard of such a thing… that freaks me out… it’s like someone ordering a hamburger without pickles or ketchup…
No pickles would be sacrilegious… light sauce is just good taste.
“Good taste”? “GOOD TASTE”?
You have offended my honor-u!
Now you reave me with no choice…
KAME HA ME HAAAAAAA!
*hurriedly singing “Deck The Halls” ala A Christmas Story*
fa ra ra ra raaaa ra ra ra raaaaaa
(Yes, I know not Japanese… but it is as good as you’re gonna get.)
That’s RACIST!
Good thing I’m not Japanese, or I’d bust a rasengan on your comments section.
Like DUH! You’re totally like Mexican!
…
That was the sound of a blood vessel EXPLODING in my head.
What’s the matter? I totally said that in my valley girl voice and not my monumental girl voice. Geez, man!
I saw the blood vessel that exploded leave the house a few minutes later. He looked mad, and he was carrying a baseball bat.
Uh oh. Good thing my new tail arrived today.
It was delivered by an amazon drone, in case you were wondering how I ordered it this morning and already have it.
A tiny drone made to carry two pound packages lifted a twenty ton titanium kangaroo tail?
It was 40,000 drones. Shipping was ridiculous.
I suspect it must have crushed your front porch.
Did they leave it under the mat?
They tried, but not having opposable thumbs it was hard.
How many crashed drones now litter your street?
None. I hid them all in my garage to work on a flying transformer-esque project.
Maybe you could order some more cybernetic parts from Amazon. Then you’d have more drones to work with AND parts to add to your new Enemy Crusher 9001.
Planning on it first thing in the morning before they notice the 40,000 missing drones.
Hopefully you can get the project done as soon as possible so that, if Amazon opposes you, you can CRUSH THEM more easily.
So far my drone army is 39,997 strong…
We had a couple “incidents”.
You also have mail, btw.
I use different browsers for all the different addresses I manage. Sadly, that one was left on Internet Explorer. I’m afraid I’ll have to check it in a moment, when my cat stops sleeping on my lap and I can reach my iPad.
She just yawned and is now staring pensively into the distance. It won’t be too long.
LOL no worries I am going to sleep in a few. I didn’t realize it was closing in on midnight. No wonder I am tired. 5 a.m. Rolls around entirely too quickly.
I hate sleeping. Every day seems to start out poorly, and then, just as it gets interesting, you’re too tired to enjoy it. I consider getting an hour less sleep to be a triumph, since it leaves a longer day to be had.
I love sleeping. I cherish sleeping. I should do more of it.
The actual act of sleeping doesn’t bother me- I like being asleep. In fact, I’m mostly asleep even when I’m awake. It’s the loss of time that bothers me.
The problem is, when I sleep time flies by and when I do things like laundry the time inches by. That is unnatural and shouldn’t be.
I don’t know about that. Why would anyone want to sleep if it felt like a thousand years passed in just eight hours?
Maybe the reason why we all dislike drudgery like laundry is because it takes longer in our minds.
With a herd of miniature cloned llamas, it takes quite a while.
8 hours would be perfect. Sign me up for that!
Getting 8 hours of sleep is like getting a million dollars at the lottery, Nice, but you can still live without it.
I myself would prefer the lottery thing.
Well if push comes to shove, I’d take the lottery thing too.
On second thought, I’m not sure if I would.
A lottery ate my uncle.
I’ve always been prejudiced against all lotteries ever since…
Maybe I will stick to a lottery with dentures. They can’t chew as well.
Just hit it with a baseball bat. It’ll show it who’s boss.
If only uncle Rajahkbar had a baseball bat…
A baseball bat?!? Why on earth did I spend £8,000 on this tail?
£?
Pounds?
POUNDS?
I thought you were an American, not some kind of… foreign… person…
Like a Mexican. Mexicans use pounds, right?
I am an American. That tail was hard to find. Only one available was being sold in Corninghamptonwetonvillacornishtonchestershire, England. Hence the pounds.
You should know what Mexicans use… Duh.
That reminds me, did you manage to evade that burst blood vessel that came after you with a baseball bat?
He re-exploded on impact of the smell of the Axe Bomb. Now my porch is a right mess.
Ew…
Very
Very ew. Much disgust. Doge likes it not.
Maybe that is why the neighborhood dogs have quit coming around for a spot of tea.
You should probably throwing spots with tea at them. It gives them fleas, and portable holes.
I tried tossing a black hole once. It didn’t turn out like I had planned.
Oh, so you’re the one the New York Times was talking about when they said “Disaster! Llama Thought It Would Be A Good Idea to Throw World Destroying Black Hole!”
*shuffling hooves and hanging head*
Maybe
I heard it sucked up a whole district of stuffed animal factories, ice cream parlors, and disneylands.
It ruined the happiness of many small children and lonely single cat ladies.
It also released thousands of horrific aliens from another dimension to try to colonize earth.
Smooth move, Ferguson.
I told you. Sometimes genius goes awry.
I know I’m a genius and I haven’t thrown any black holes right towards a district everyone knows is called “Happy town”.
Run in the fact you haven’t destroyed all babies and puppies happiness!
I will do my best to run in that fact just to prove to you that I’m right.
Ugh. Rub in.
It’s now 7… How long can I use my “it’s early” excuse?
My advice is to use it until you can use your “it’s late” excuse.
Good advice!
Thank you. It took seven years in tibet for me to learn such sage wisdom.
I mention £’s one time and turn British in my thoughts.
I’m an eighth British and even I don’t ever think in British unless I’m making fun of Britishers.
1/8th British?
I am trying to a avoid a 7/8th’s Mexican comment….
Actually, I’m 1/8th Brit, 1/8 Scotts-Irish, 1/8 Welsh, 1/8 Welsh, 1/8 German, and 1/2 Pakistani.
*Deep Voice* But I’m alllll man.
Well, except for all the wookie and animal parts.
I am impressed that you are 9/8th!
Wait a second…
Damn, the one time I remember that I’m part welsh and it screws up the whole equation.
I’m a mutt. Mostly English, Irish,and German. I don’t have exact percentages.. But then again, neither did you. Haha
If three heritages constitutes a mutt, then what am I? Some sort of super hybrid of different mutts, forming a mega mutt?
Those are the “main” three. LOL
Hey, at least you have a chance of nailing down who you’re exactly related to.
I have hundreds of cousins and no one knows if they’re even part of the small civilization we call a “family”.
We are supposed to try and find all our cousins? On purpose?
Not unless you’re a hillbilly AND a bigamist.
Never both simultaneously.
No, there was once a hillbilly who dabbled in.. quite a lot of bigamy.
And now we have arkansas.
Cue banjos.
I didn’t have anything against Arkansas until I saw Mud.
Now we’re mortal enemies.
You speak of movies and references in which I don’t know.
I’ve actually referenced a ton of stuff this whole time that you haven’t caught. That happens a lot to me, though. Nobody seems to know about Blackadder…
His horse is blacker than a vole,
His pot is blacker than his kettle
Good folk, lock up your son and daughter
Beware his deadly flashing blade
Unless you want to end up slaughtered
Blackadder, Blackadder, he rides a pitch black steed! Blackadder, Blackadder, he’s very bad in deed!
Good night, you slimy little man!
That must be your 1/8th British speaking.
Tell me you actually know about Blackadder…
I NEED to hear that somebody else in the world actually heard of it.
Did I not mention you being 1/8th British?
I don’t know much about smallville, but I have heard of blackadder. Rowan Atkinson, yes? (I am pretty sure that is Mr. Bean’s real name)
Indeed.
Though my favorite character was Baldrick.
I am debating on humoring you or telling you that the extent of my Blackadder knowledge is that it is an English show that had/has Mr. Bean in it.
My whole world was just crushed…
This is just like the time that I found out that Santa… didn’t actually conquer the martians.
No, no he didn’t. He just took some to his cave to work in his sweatshop. The other Martians battle to this day to free them on a day we call… Black Friday.
One thing I always wondered about Santa when I was a child- how come the government doesn’t shut him down for releasing all those All Rights Reserved Star Wars toys he gave me?
And do they enforce child labor laws and minimum wage standards with him also?
Maybe the government secretly FUNDS SANTA ILLEGALLY!
We’ve just uncovered a massive conspiracy.
Always knew he was a shady character.
He used to make a living off of walking up to passersby in dark alleys, opening up his red, fluffy jacket, and saying “Hey man, I got it all! Presents, candy, I’ve even got some fir trees in the trunk! I’m cheap, too, man, just one glass of milk and a cookie for anything you see here! Come on, man, you know you want to…”
Who knew he would rise to such power and influence.
Mrs. Claus. She is the brains behind the operation.
No, I heard she was a little loose, if you know what I mean.
She wasn’t able to hold onto flag poles very well.
I think it’s Rudolph. Little bastard has been creeping me out since he was first put in claymation. And Santa wasn’t really BIG until Rudolph came into the picture.
“Hey, hey, hey! San-ta! The big S! You hear me, boy, we’re gonna go far! Just give me control of your movie rights for a week and we’ll be sipping martinis in Tahiti! You let your boy Rudolph take care of everything!”
“Why does your nose glow like that? It’s freaking me out…”
“Don’t worry about it, big S, it’s just a skin condition.”
I totally read the whole thing in the creepy claymation voices.
At least that fruity little elf wasn’t involved.
“Hey guys! What’s going on?”
Oh great…
“I just got this new coat! It has se—-quins!
I’ve gotta say, I look absolutely fabulous.”
It’s the curvy shoes.
And the lipstick.
The overly groomed eyebrows.
The complete lack of any sign of facial hair on a fully grown elf.
The drawn on Marilyn beauty mark.
The hairdo is as flaming as you can get without pouring lighter fluid on Elton John.
I haven’t laughed out loud at comments this much ever. Granted 700 or so, there better be some snort laughter inducing ones.
Typing that boosted my self esteem.
We make a great team here. We really should be writing some of these down…
Oh wait.
If by great you actually mean completely ridiculous and dysfunctional, then HECK YEAH!!
If you’ve read any of my blog at all then you know that that’s how I roll.
Or tumble.
More of spinning mixed with falling off a cliff, really.
I am just clumsy and tend to do the walk trip catch yourself routine often.
I think of myself as hopeless one minute and as the ultimate badass the next.
I realized this when I looked back at the “spinning off a cliff” comment and thought “Damn, that’s a really cool image! I’m awesome!”
It is a super cool image… DON’T add a tutu.. it takes away from the coolness…
Fine, I’ll add a rainbow afro wig.
Better
Do you think the shirt made of polish sausage and the flash pants are too much?
Kielbasa shirt and hot pants…
I also have some fluffy alpaca slippers.
best use of a rotten alpaca…
How can you say that about your own kind?!
)this is my revenge for the mexican thing)
Because some Mexican guy egged me on to say it…
Damn…
I didn’t see that one coming.
Or the typo I made in my comment.
It happens to the best of us.. rarely to some… but all get there eventually.
What, being mistaken for an alpaca, mexican, or wearing rotting dead farm animals on your feet?
all of it, simultaneously…
It’s a grand symphony of oddity.
Official operatic album title!
The cover of it will be Stereotypical Black Woman with her face photoshop morphed into Liberachi.
Brilliant again!
No matter what I achieve in life, I won’t be able to top this train of thought.
Pretty much…
Cure cancer.. close, but not quite.
Achieve world peace.. almost as good.
Streak across the 50 yard line during the super bowl… maybe.
I only managed to streak across the 1 yard line. No one noticed me…
Also, it wasn’t the superbowl, it was the regular bowl. So few people were there to see it in the first place.
Never do it at the cereal bowl.. or the mixing bowl.. just less effective.
You’ll shock the Cookie Crisp wolf, though.
His eyes are perpetually bugging out, so you might not get the satisfaction of his shocked expression.
But he does make a mean cereal…
I wonder how he sees the cookies if his eyes are always ten feet away from his hands when he’s making ’em?
Mirrors
Of course…
Either that or he hires Ethiopian slaves to do it for him.
That’s RACIST!
No, that’s NATIONALIST!
Whatever you TECHNICALIST!
That’s DEFINITIONIST!
If you say so Mr. ARGUMENTALIST
Well, thank you, Ms. CAPITALIST!
Puuuuuuuun.
*drum roll, cymbal crash*
Finally, I deserve the late night tv version of a laugh track.
I always dreamed this day would come…
It comes with the llama award that I can remember the name of.
The My Little Llama Award, with Rainbow Sprinkles and Sparkles McGee on the trophy?
With luscious locks of hair you can comb?
I guess you could try, though they are cast in bronze.
I am a determined llama.
And on a side note, I am both fascinated and frightened a bit by the magnitude of these comments. I feel like this could go on eternally, us become excellent friends that know nothing at all and yet everything about the other. It’s a surreal feeling. Not unlike this entire conversation.
If you read all of these then you know me pretty well.
I’m infinitesimally complicated and really simple at the same time.
Every time this conversation lulls, it picks up again even better than the last time… I remind you of stereotypical black woman and shark hunter.
DAMN IT IPAD WHEN I WANT TO TYPE WE’LL I WON’T TYPE WELL! I’VE DONE THIS BEFORE,
I am pretty sure there were words before that last sentence, however my brain only retained the last two lines.
So many freaking typos on this thing! I used a comma instead of a period at the end of that last one…
Does it act like my iPhone and bump you out of a reply if you get a new comment?
That is driving me almost nuts enough to get up and go get on my laptop.
Oh… Yeah.. I get loads of comments all the time… I’m cool and popular…
Oh! It bumped me out right there! It totally did!
and a miniature cowboy hat perched atop the afro wig.
With a tiny fez on top of that.
A monkey wearing a tiny fez… you have to have the monkey in there somewhere anyhow…
I feel like that ruins the simple hilarity of the rainbow wig with a tiny cowboy hat. That was so perfect, and I had to go and ruin it…
put the fez wearing monkey in the pocket of the hot pants… Then it leads to the age old, “Is that a monkey in your pocket?” questions…
I think I might put the monkey on my so I can make the more innocent joke about having a monkey on your shoulder for an addiction.
Since I try to keep my stuff PG.
Unlike some llamas.
(Though I didn’t keep any of this conversation PG)
My life is ALWAYS PG.. I have too many kids to be dirty.. I have to let it out somewhere.. LOL
I sure hope none of your kids read any of this. I’d hate to have the “That;s Racist!” opera passed around the school yard.
Or the meth addict gnome who does full contact flamenco.
Or the frequent relationships between people and llamas.
Or that time I called He-Man a “hunk of man”.
Or the time you imitated an asian trying to sing “DEck the Halls”.
At this point, I’m worried adults might read this.
Well… when put like that…
And no, my kids don’t read this. Only two can read.
But that is also why I keep my blog locked down as far as privacy goes.. my kids don’t need to randomly stumble upon it. LOL
I sure hope my parent’s don’t randomly stumble upon this, either- my Dad is the nosy type, most of our conversations start with “So how’s your internet stuff doing?” or something of the sort…
Come to think of it, I also have a flour sack wife and thousands of pound cake children who probably shouldn’t read this…
I’m not sure if anyone should read this.
I’m not sure if we should read this…
You can’t read.. you’re safe… the rest of us.. we’re screwed.
Even more screwed than Bender’s aunt, Rita.
And she’s a screw.
I don’t know if I can handle that….
YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE 30th TV REFERENCE!
I pushed Nicholson as far as he could go with that one.
Yes, yes you did…
I’m sorry, Jack. I’ll try harder next time…
Actually, I’ve tried harder with this conversation than I have with my blog for the past month.
I am honoured!
Slipped the extra U in there as I am back to channeling my inner Brit.
Those extra Us steam my cabbage even more than square hole pegs, I’ll tell you hwhat.
A llama who can take orders! Now that’s rare. You’re going to be in L company- maybe you can get those filthy alpacas to ship up and shape out.
Sir, Yes Sir! *snappy salute* if anyone can, Sir, it is me, Sir!
That’s what I like to hear. I’m officially promoting you to General of the Alpaca Army.
You’ll have to spend every second of your day near alpacas. Every… second.
Even THIS second!
*pulls off fake face again and reveals that my identity is really Alpaca Man*
You are a multi-layed personality, Sir!
*uses tail to wipe out entire alpaca army in one swipe*
Oh, but did you see THIS coming?!
*Pulls off alpaca face to reveal that my identity is really your tail*
Thwarted again by the masked man!
Oh really? Masked man, am I?
But did you expect THIS?!
*Puts on face to reveal my identity as me*
No, no I didn’t see that coming. Perhaps because of THIS!
*pulls off mask to reveal a jerky addicted cop*
Jim? They told me you were dead! Oh, it’s so good to see you! So how’re Mom and Dad?
Great. They retired to the lake house. Years of talking about it, finally made the move. They ask about you often enough, I make up stories about where you’ve been, what animal you’re morphing into, and what weird surgical procedures you have had done. They seem to enjoy hearing about you.
Well, the funny thing is that most of those stories are actually true.
Is aunt Edna still making those pies with faces drawn on them?
Just like usual. You should see the blueberry one she just made. Calls it Toby.
That’s uncanny… My latest son’s name is Toby!
It’s not like he is blue or anything. Now THAT would be weird.
You’re freaking me out, man…
Deeeuuuuudddeeee
Deeeeeuuuuuuuudeeeeehhhhh!
You know there’s one creepy guy sitting at his computer screen with bloodshot eyes, staring at this comment thread and refreshing the page over and over again…
Every time one of us hits Reply, he says, “Yeeees…. more…. mooooore…”
As he mainlines coffee laced with speed.
He’s also drawn pictures of both of us on pillows with underwear on them, occasionally looking at them with a creepy, crooked smile, saying, “Society may have rejected me. They may have called me a pervert, and told me to get out of their bedroom closet.
But you…
You LOVE ME.”
At least a hasn’t crossed over to making voodoo dolls in out likeness yet.
He won’t do that until he comes back from his closet after refilling his heroine supply and then reads us badmouthing him.
“I thought you guys loved me…
BUT YOU BETRAYED ME!”
Prepare to get some doll heads in the mail.
Hey Creepy McCreeperson, we DO love you! You’re our number one fan… laces out.. LACES OUT!
Don’t worry, he won’t go after you. He’ll probably go after me since you’re more marketable, and the show would money if they got rid of you.
The execs will probably decide to bring me back in a crappy plot twist two seasons later.
OH! I’VE GOT IT!
They’ll have a flashback episode in season 6 where they clearly show the stalker shooting and killing me, and the police taking him away.
Then they’ll do an episode in season 9, after the fans complain that I died, where the stalker escapes from prison to go after you, and at the end of the episode you’re sitting at home having a fun time chatting online with whatever character they got to replace me, and then the camera will zoom out, into the moonlit backyard, out to a tree, and sitting in that tree is a man in a hooded sweatshirt, holding binoculars.
Then the camera abruptly cuts to his face, and he lowers the binoculars, and you see him…
AND IT’S REALLY ME!
So evidently I shot myself in an out of body experience.
The fans will be outraged.
Brilliant! Brilliant I say!
Although now Creepy McCreeperson will leak the plot twists to the media before the launching of season 9, but after filming…
I’m confused. Am I creepy McCreeperson or is he my clone or twin or out of body representation or split personality or what?
I guess I’m technically him, since they decided to retcon the flashback episode.
He is a different person, but once you kill him, as he attempts to kill you, you assume his identity.
So I BECAME him!
…why?
All his clothes fit?
Eh, good enough. I don’t like to do laundry.
But why am I stalking you and the new blogger who replaced me if I have no memory of my past life as Sertimer, rather than Creepy McCreeperson?
Electronically implanted memories.
Maybe the government did it…
AND SANTA IS IN ON IT!
Boom.
Season 9 finale, right there.
With dancing and singing overly groomed gay elves??? PLEASE!????
No. Absolutely not.
The most I can allow is a character getting tased and spazzing out in a way that looks like dancing.
That would work… It’s your whole cop thing rearing it’s head.
By the way… If you google ‘Sertimer Zodo” all 403 comments you left here are what pop up on google… fair warning…
Oh damn… well, it’s not as if all this stuff (I’ve surmised it all too often) could possibly lower my reputation passed rock bottom.
And there is no bad publicity. Look at Joe Biden.
The penchant for He-Man may…
I WAS imitating a stereotypical black woman when I said that about him.
That doesn’t get you a “Coming out!” article on Yahoo!, it gets you a bunch of angry news anchors on Fox.
LOL
Sure.. Suuuuuuuuure you were…
Are you insinuating somethin’ ’bout me?
I hate that!
I will slap you upside the ‘ead, you hear me?
I’m sorry, Fox News! It just pours out of me!
It’s okay princess…. When is your Quinceañera?
Wait, I’m a fifteen year old girl now?
Hot diggity, I thought I still had to be in preschool. I hate having to put those damn square pegs in those useless round holes, it steams my cabbage, I’ll tell you ha-what.
That got away from me.
lil bit…
Hey, you’re the one who sprung that out of nowhere. I had to google it, it momentarily drained me of my powers…
AHA! Your kryptonite is revealed!
But that’s only green kryptonite. Wouldn’t it be more useful to identify my silver kryptonite, which would make me go crazy?
Wait a second… why were you googling my name?
Are you stalking me?
OH MAN! SEASON 10 FINALE! YOU’RE REALLY CREEPY McCREEPERSON’S SISTER AND YOU’RE OUT TO AVENGE HIM!
NO ONE puts baby in the corner… NO ONE!
What if we put Baby slightly to the side of the corner, would that be work?
an askew baby?? What is wrong with you?
Look, take it up with the choreographer, I’m just the guy who fixes the broken light bulbs on stage.
Sheesh…
Nobody puts an askew baby near a corner.. NOBODY!!!
This was the moment that the light repairman realized that the crazed llama in flash pants was slowly going insane.
Along with her choreographer, probably.
Do my pants accomodate all four legs? If so, what KMart did you find them at?
They were the last pair available at the last store in our town.
Of course, they were lying on the floor, a victim of a recent tide of Mexicans.
Little pound cake Mexicans?
Don’t make me sing another round of “That’s Racist!”.
The first one really took all the wit I had.
I won’t make you. Rest up a bit, I am sure you will need the energy later down the conversation road.
I should have gone to sleep three hours ago, but I’m just not tire
nhjnbmvcbnm,.kmnjbvgfcjhkkkkkkkkkkui nmb jkhiu87you6t5r
Sorry, I blacked out again.
Go to sleep man… I can entertain myself by weaving miniature wigs for your pound cake babies…
That’s cute and creepy at the same time. Bravo, madame, bravo.
I fear I must take your advice, finally going to sleep.
I had other ideas for this comment, but I just don’t have the energy. I wanted to see what the sun looked like, but I guess I was too late…
This isn’t that late for me, I just got up early. The internet was calling me from my sleeping place.
Good Night. 🙂
And in my completely interesting life, I took a few minutes out to peruse the comments on this post. Nothing is in the correct order, which would annoy anyone trying to read it and CMcC in his eternal quest to thwart our plot to take over the universe. However, somehow it all still made perfect sense. Not sure what that says about me though.
You’re disorganized and possibly deeply mentally disturbed.
You’re just now figuring out the latter? Don’t you know me at all?
You seemed okay to me. Hold on, I forgot to paint on Toby’s face…
I think I’ll use United Nations Blue this time…
There is something angelic in a face painted on in UN blue.
And something slightly untrustworthy.
Well, no backing out now. I guess I should have used navy i
Still learning to type on an iPad… It’s not going well…
Are you using the finger attached to your top lip? That could be the problem.
No, I’m using my thumbs.
The ones on my back.
and wondering how quickly you googled your own name just to find out I was totally messing with you? LOL
HA! Jokes on you! I’m not thoughtful or mature enough to realize that you were messing with me!
I forgot what kind of immature cyborobonimal I was dealing with.
I knew I’d win.
You have been genetically modified longer than I, it was destiny.
But the underdog (llama) always wins in the end…
perhaps…only time will tell
Damn it, time! spill the beans!
Time is a dramatic one…
So many dramatic pauses.
Like that one.
and that one..
That one scared me a little.
It made me reflect on who I’ve become.
But then I realized I’m a sexy stallion.
Now I’m happy.
It’s a government conspiracy, man.
We’ve gotta stick it to the man, man. Gotta beat that man at his own manly game, man. Man, this whole man thing is giving one a real head trip, man. Man.
Duuuuude
Deeeeeeeeuuuuuuuuddddduuuuuuuh
That’s way too much weed for this conspiracy theorist, man
But I did know OF it. Should count for something… Something small granted, but something. Hahaha
My whole world is still pretty crushed- or at least, dented and stomped on.
Darn auto correct. I had typed, “Baldrick is by far my favorite character!”
Oh! Of course! Yes, of course auto correct changed a bunch of your comments retroactively!
Of course.
World repaired.
Darn iPhone.
Yeah…
But my whole world is still partially crushed because Santa didn’t really conquer the martians.
Some are sweatshop employees. That counts for a small something also.
My whole childhood I thought “Man, Santa conquered the martians! He’s so cool!”
But then I found out the horrible truth…
Plus there was this whole conspiracy.
For me it was finding out the truth about the Easter Lizard.
Or the Saint Patrick’s Day Troll. Or the Valentine’s Day Corehound.
Or the Independence Day Unicorn.
I think the one that devastated me the most was the Labor Day leprous gnome of sorrow.
Wait. He ISN’T real?!?
No, he is real.
He’s just into some really freaky stuff…
Flamenco.
I thought he only dabbled in Salsa. Disappointing.
He was also found in a meth lab, but whatever.
Flamenco… weirdo.
Doesn’t he realize the ramifications that will have on his teeth? The full contact flamenco.
I didn’t need to read that.
Doge? I read that as “dogs”. Ugh
You haven’t heard of Doge, have you?
Much knowledge.
Very twitter.
Such doge.
*blink* *blink* *blink*
*smile and nod*
Very blink.
Much nod.
Such starting to get tired of talking like this now.
Hahaha
Such don’t want to talk like this.
Very please release me now
Much doge you bastard this isn’t funny anymore
Be gone with your speech.
Very you can’t stop it
Much it’ll take over the world
Such this is the end of humanity
Internet Explorer and iPad shouldn’t even be used in the same decade, much less sentence. Hahahaha
Internet Explorer and iPad in a same sentence illustrate the problems with Microsoft and the success of Apple.
Though Internet Explorer shouldn’t be mentioned in any sentence, ever. At all.
My point exactly. Haha
I suppose the cheapness of Explorer and the high cost, high quality of Apple are also illustrated both in that sentence and in the great war between the Macs and the PCs, beginning with the siege of Bill Gates’s planet and ending with the destruction of the universe.
That was an inside joke. To me. And only me.
You know.., he won a pair of garage door once in a charity golf game.
There is more to that story, but it has been a long time since I told it… And it is 5 am, so that is all I have for you right now.
Good morning, BTW seems like just yesterday we spoke. 🙂
It’s the same day for me.
Sleep is for the weak.
Or llamas.
Weak llamas. Who need coffee. Two cups. I’m wild like that.
Caffeine never gave me much of a boost. My parents hardly ever gave me coffee since “I’d be bouncing off the walls all night”, but the truth is that anything from tea to Red Bull lacks the ability to give me wings.
That genetic experiment did, though.
Are they large wings that can do some good, but can be awkward and cumbersome or are they small dainty wings that while looking good really offer no real benefit?
Your friend must have a country club. It’s quite fancy. All the wood work and all.
Have you seen Smallville?
I’ve griped and praised it most of 2013, I don’t see why 2014 has to be different.
If it is on TV I probably haven’t see it recently. I have a television. It just has a blue screen which says, “you ain’t got no channels”. Sometimes I turn the blue screen on so the little llamas can chase the words around the screen like a cat with a laser pointer. Other times just for the fun blue ambiance it can bring to a dark room.
Man, it seems like nobody even knows about Smallville but me… It was on from 2002 to 2010, for goodness sakes, you’d think somebody else would’ve seen it.
It’s about Superman when he was a kid. It has five great seasons, three okay ones, and one which I wish I could scrub from my memory.
I know what it is. Superman as a kid or teen or something along those lines, right?
And I just realized you just said that up there. More coffee STAT!!!
Superman is an awkward teenager who learns to be a dashing superhero who kicks the crap out of Lex Luthor.
Also, Jor El is a jerk.
All dashing superheroes should have to go through the awkward teen years. It’s only fair.
I went through the dashing teen years and then the awkward superhero phase.
That’s why they call me Lemur Man.
I just stay in the perpetually awkward phase. It’s okay though. I’m used to it.
I’m not awkward, myself. I’m too tired to be awkward.
Sleep?
It’s no vicious lottery, but does have it’s own perks.
Like skipping night time, when all the monsters come out.
It’s no longer night.
The sun hasn’t risen here.
I suppose it’s kind of hard to tell hundreds of feet below the surface of the earth, though, but that geothermic generator isn’t going to crank itself.
West coast. Underground.
Middle coast. Farther underground.
I’m south coast. Above ground.
I’m working on lowering myself into the exact center of the earth’s core so I never have to list my location on any site signup sheet.
Heard it’s hot down there.
I have a feeling that it’s actually going to be ice, or maybe a giant hollowed out center filled with dinosaurs and magic and wonder for some reason.
Twinkie filling.
There. That is the perfection of that joke.
No further work is needed.
We’re done here, everyone. Good job.
^high five
*
high asterisk
You have turned me into an excessively cynical llama…
Good. You’re growing up…
Jaded and cynical llama… I would put on my big girl pants, but alas, no kmarts…
Llamas probably shouldn’t wear pants anyway.
How about shirts?
That seems slightly less of a horrible idea…
Why don’t you just wear this baseball cap, sport?
What team logo is on it?
Simmlish Llamas.
I will wear that sucker with pride… *Strutting*
You do realize I put a whole lot of gum on the top of that hat?
It helps keep the birds in place when they land.
So now you’ve got a hat stuck to your head with a bunch of birds crapping on you and you’re pleased.
This was a stolen victory…
victory will be mine!!!
Not if it’s bovine!
I have a lion in a holster.. don’t make me use him…
Is it the same lion you fed the jerky to?
Have you heard him wookie-ing?
Yeah… you probably should have given him the regular stuff…
I was hoping to create a super creature!
Instead you got a baby lion with alien asthma and weird hair.
It is a work in progress…
I guess it’ll take a whole lot of progress.
Some of the ugliest babies grow up to be the most gorgeous adults…. I can’t think of any off the top of my head, because I was a stunning baby llama and am a stunning adult llama…
I wasn’t going to reveal my identity, but it seems you need an example…
I was an ugly baby… and I grew into the man I am today…
Fabio.
I thought the hair looked familiar…
I only dyed it blonde for show.
You’re a diva!
No, I’m a divo. Divas a female. Divos are rock bands- but also male divas.
with strange hats… are you sporting the hat?
Darling, my hair is too beaut-iful to cover vith some smeely haht.
It is quite luscious.
It tastes good, too.
*lick*
Mmmm… Fabio’s hair.
Does it either taste or smell like any form of jerky?
It IS jerky, darling.
*Gobble*
Mmmm, spicy.
That is some grade A premium jerky!
Hey, Fabio didn’t give ou permission to lick his hair. Back away.
I didn’t lick. I am not THAT forward. I simply smelled. And sniffed… And lightly touched one strand with the very tip of my lip.
That’s even more forward… this is starting to get like some sort of creepy fan fiction romance novel between Fabio and a llama.
Really? Starting? This whole conversation makes me think I need to start taking drugs so I can understand it.
It keeps making more sense to me.
It’s the wig smoking.
I haven’t smoked a wig in weeks… nor have I had too much jerky.
Even more frightening.
Duuuuuuude… look at my hands! They’re just all…
Duuuuuuude…
Haha! This llama has to hit the stables. I haven’t been feeling very hot all day and need to rest up. Talk to you later copper!
Goodbye for now, Llama…
This isn’t over.
294 comments on this post. We many need an intervention.
Half of me is glad that we got away from the Fabio/Llama romance novel side of this conversation….
but the other part wonders what might have been…
After the whole goose in the face incident fabio lost his appeal.
Not to llamas, evidently.
To this llama.
You know you love Fabio, deep within your furry llama heart.
I’m a llama. I have to eat some veggies. The meat is considered “un-natural” which I may be an un-natural creature anyhow…
Despite popular belief, I’m (at least mostly) human, and that means I get to choose what does or doesn’t go on my plate. Veggies and their foul kin have no place at my table.
Aye. Wish I were “mostly human”… Mainly for pants shopping. It is so had to find any to fit four legs in a Walmart.
Maybe you should try K-Mart. I’m pretty sure they have sizes for quadrupeds of all species. I know they have turtle necks with an extra sleeve coming out of the back of the neck.
One of those deals where the three fingered Cambodian sweatshop children making mistakes came in handy?
I would try a kmart, but there are none around here. Llama’s don’t drive, for obvious reasons, so I need to catch a ride in the back of someone’s pick-up truck sometime.
I’m surprised people even remember K-Mart anymore. The last one here closed up almost two years ago.
It’s a shame. I would have looked for pants. When I moved back home a while ago they had already all closed up here too.
I’m not surprised they went out of business. There were always screaming hispanic families throwing clothes on the floor whenever I used to visit.
We must have gone to the same one!
I think they hire those families to visit all their locations. Really gives the place that classy air when you have a bunch of eight-year-olds screaming in Spanish while their parents bicker at light speed.
It does add the romantic ambiance of chaos.
They should do an action movie that follows a Spanish family as they decimate a K-Mart. In slow-mo, while O Fortuna plays in the background, we watch a screaming three-year-old throw a Hello Kitty jersey to the floor, her mother grabbing her and her brothers giggling while ransacking a box of Legos. Meanwhile, her father is arguing with someone on his cellphone, shouting while his face turns bright red.
Shoot. I watch that one every time I go to walmart. It is the “new” kmart.
Here the Hispanic community mysteriously disappeared after K-Mart closed. Our Walmarts are actually very diverse melting pots, exhibiting each race and nationality as a bickering family.
My walmart is the same way.
Nobody seems to throw clothes and toys on the floor in Walmart. That seemed to be K-Mart exclusive.
Wherever you live must have fancier walmarts than where I live. Haha
Oh, we do indeed have fancy Walmarts up here in the west-central-east-north-up-down United States. These Walmarts wear gucci and long dresses to the Walmart Ball. They’re the pride of the state, swishing around the floor as their high heels click quietly beneath them.
I used to live there! Just east of the west line of north southville?
Yeah, only up, down, and slightly to the left.
I know exactly where that is! You have the yellowish reddish house with the beigeish grayish trim?
Yea- no, actually, not at all. I have the blueish grayish house with the grayish aquaish trim.
Just around the bend from mine…
Are you sure? Because my house hovers 2,000 feet in the air over a giant crater. I don’t have any neighbors within a ten mile radius- or, at least, I didn’t think I did.
Yep, pretty sure… I live on Levitation Lane…
I think I see you down there. Howdy, neighbor! Want a cream pie?
I feel as though this is a loaded question.
Was that a yes?
Here you go!
*splat*
I knew all those years of throwing pies at children would make my aim exact!
Mmmmmm Chocolate cream!
That’s the chocolate cream? Damn! I meant to throw the horseradish and spinach spectacular!
I guess I’ll have to throw the other one at an old man or something… what a waste…
Veggie eater here, remember…..
Not to be mistaken for a vegan… they are also satan’s tools..
Nobody likes a vegan.
Even vegans don’t like vegans.
That’s probably why so many of them are emo.
LMAO! I can’t even come back with something…
I see vegans come back with things all the time.
Usually their lunches.
I can’t blame them.
They also come back repeatedly from the restroom… all that roughage…
You know, you’d think they’d take the hint from all that vomiting, but apparently eating no animals or animal byproducts at all seems like a really great idea. So much so that they can look past the vomiting, terrible food, and wild mood swings.
I’d like to point out the canine teeth to them… They are certainly there for a reason.
And that reason is delicious steak…
um.. and jerky
And for hunting wild pizzas.
Ah.. the ever elusive wild pizza…
Look! There’s one now!
Oh, the majestic cheese… the pepperoni steaming in the breeze… the red pepper flakes falling softly to the ground…
CHOMP!
Mmmm… tastes better than it looks.
Mushrooms and Olives too…
Olives?! This isn’t what I ordered!
Sorry Copper… You have to pick em off…
Awwwwww man! There’s always some under the cheese that you bite into unsuspectingly…
Those are the very best ones!
No! Because they’re veggies!
You’re in denial again…
Oh damn. Last time I got a crocodile bite on my peg leg.
be careful.. the croc’s like wood…
I suppose that’s why so many pirates wear those ugly plastic shoes…
And have no fear… It’s not a full moon.
Treat your addiction to New Mexico dry jerky. (Have you had it?) It was that bovine caviar that led me to face my addiction squarely: I would have driven backwards 100 miles to get just-one-more-teeny-tiny-little–dry-as-desert scrap. I’ve never admitted this before.
Friends who worked in supermarkets used to give me cases of the expired stuff. Even so, I’d spend eight bucks on just a half ounce of premium heavily peppered jerky; the kind you can read a newspaper through.
But just when I thought I had kicked the habit, the bastards came up with Bacon Jerky!!!! AAAGGGHHHH!!
I love helping others in their dependencies. I even enable myself, It is fortunate that I was never an MD. I’d be in prison for life for enabling all those Oxycontin addicts.
Hmmm wondering if I should invent a shopping addiction right now?
Greetings from South Africa.
Thanks for a great blog. As soon as I saw the word Jerky, I knew I was in good company. Although we don’t have actual jerky in South Africa (we’re behind in most things) the early settlers fed themselves on a meat product which appears to be vaguely similar. I’m rather pleased that no 12 step program exists to ‘help’ us with our dependancy as I am persuaded that many of us would simply pine away and die for the lack of it.
We call the South African version of the stuff – “biltong”.
By the looks of it, the process is similar to jerky, i.e. you catch and dispatch the desired animal (in as humane a manner as possible – apeasing the Green Peace bods who, I’m sure do a great job), cut it up into meaty strips, spice it and let it hang to dry – somewhere where the cat won’t get at it…. After a time, one brings it down from its drying place and, with orgasmic expressions of delight on the face, munches away happily – keeping out of mischief and generally being a credit to the human race.
In the early years, southern Africa was pretty much wall-to-wall animals. It was thus a heck of a lot easier and quicker to shoot a cow/buck/ostrich/buffalo than it was to cultivate a crop of something vegetarian. It’s logical to conclude that biltong was even more popular then than it is today.
You will find biltong pretty much everywhere in southern Africa where snacks are consumed (parties, sports matches, corporate events – although it is considered bad taste to bring a lump to a funeral). Mass produced biltong is available in most shops, but the really good stuff is manufactured by farmers, hunters, ‘real’ butchers and enthusiasts such as yours truly.
We are not only manufacturers of the stuff, but pushers as well – adopting such heartless tactics as offering small free samples to victims to seduce the taste buds and get them addicted…. but that’s capitalism for you. So if you ever visit sunny South Africa and you’re feeling a bit lost, just utter the word ‘biltong’ to the nearest person and he or she will come over all friendly like and point you in the direction of your nearest fix.
Well, if I haven’t bored you into a coma, and if you’d like a recipe – pop over to the blog and get it here – free 🙂
Yes, biltong is the same thing! And it is delicious love! The small joints, hunters, butchers and the like are definitely the “in” for getting the best jerky. You know I was desperate for a quick fix last night when I hit up my big box store for some over the counter mass produced “quick fix” replacement.
And your comment only increased my insatiable appetite for jerky…
Oh well, even in the worst times you can find in yourself a strength you never knew you had.
In my case, it was those old memories, the ones you can fix in your mind in near perfect detail.
I’m remembering some of them now…
Though there’re way more flying robots and aliens in them than I think was actually realistic.
I have found there to not usually be more than a half dozen each, robots and aliens, in real life.
And thanks.. You’re a weird, but good guy, to my estimation.
And you’re a good jerky addict llama, to mine.
Live long and prosper.
I can’t make an entire comment serious, profound, or emotionally meaningful. I’m contractually obligated.
Seriously, though, you’re the friendliest person I’ve met in a long time. Always be as open and welcoming and you’ll find more friends than enemies.
I am me.. I always will be. 🙂
And I totally made the ‘live long and prosper” hand sign subconsciously when I read that. I am a serious nerd.
I figure anyone that I can talk this much nonsense with for as long as we have has just enough neuron misfiring in his head to be someone I can get along with.
And by nonsense, I of course, mean complete and total logical meanderings of the mind.
“I’m a beef jerky-aholic.
I sympathize. It takes way too much money to pay for all the jerky, but I need it to ward off the salt-shakes.
Perhaps there is an underground jerky network. It may not be bovine, but if it is cheap enough you can look the other way as to the source…
I used to work in the underground jerky network circle. The truth isn’t as sinister as it sounds- they actually use mainly frogs and ostriches.
They did kick me out after I told everyone that, but at least I sleep better at night.
Sometimes you have to come clean… It’s one of the steps. You’re on your way to healing.
It’s good to hear that. Now I just have to apologize to all the people that I’ve hurt due to my addiction…
People are going to think it’s weird when I apologize repeatedly to my stomach.
If that is what will start people thinking you’re weird then you are doing better than many of us.
People already though I was strange. At the least, odd, and, at the most, eccentric. But weird? People would have to see my collection of dried pound cakes with faces painted on them to upgrade me to that official status.
I have this visual of a shelf lined secret closet where all of your pound cake friends reside.
It used to be a shelf. I had to move them to the basement once the shelf got full. The basement is getting pretty full too… I would stop making these, but the flour keeps telling me that it wants another kid. Women…
Two choices… Face the wrath of flour or go get yourself fixed behind flour’s back..
“Get myself fixed”? I guess that means cut my hands off?
That wouldn’t work, since I ironically trained for years in Tibet to both learn how to paint and make pound cakes with my feet.
I think that should be included in an online dating profile…
I’m not sure if I want to know what that means…
Just seems like a sure fire way to snag the babes…
“I like long romantic walks on the beach, candlelit dinners, baking with my feet..”
“I also have hundreds of psuedo-children I made out of pound cake ‘living’ in my basement and closet. Watch out for my grumpy flour sack wife. This is not a euphemism.”
LMAO
You laughed until your rear end flew off? A doctor should probably look at that. I know a good guy- Dr. Flour Sack. He’s actually my wife’s father (and, I suppose, my father-in-law.) I sure hope he doesn’t read any of this.
Oh if only laughing removed rear end! It’s always nice to have a doctor in the family…
I’ve always been suspicious as to the authenticity of his practice. He seems normal when you first meet him, but then you look at the credentials framed on his wall and wonder when the Plumber School of Boston started giving out medical degrees.
Unless he claims to be a urologist, I would question it too.
I’m not entirely sure where this can go from here…
I suppose a great story has ended. One of the few great stories to end with a sentence containing “Urologist.”
We shall mourn for a moment.
A moment of silence…
…
…
*Checks watch*
…
…
Oh well, that was boring. What’s for dinner?
Jerky
And so it went full circle, a grand jerky palindrome…
It’s the circle of life…
And now I want to hold up a baby lion and sing…
THIS IS THE POLICE! DROP THE LION AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP!!
No habla ingles.
ESTA ES LA POLICÍA! CAIGA EL LEÓN! SABEMOS QUE USTED TIENE COCAÍNA- quiero decir jerky!
It’s IN the LION!! He’s a carnivore!!!
I thought you didn’t understand English!
Thwarted yet again by the police… Dang it!
Well, that’s a rap, men. Handcuff the llama and take the lion into rehab.
It seems like people are getting more and more desperate… and eating more and more jerky. It’s a damn shame…
Hanging my head in shame…
I knew it would come down to this one day.
You should have known better. It’s twenty years in prison and $800,000 in fines for possession of prohibited jerky and forced feeding of illicit materials to large felines.
If only you’d chosen teriyaki flavor and a Doberman. That’s only 2 hours of community service.
I’ll have my attorney argue that it was a baby lion, therefore NOT large yet!
That still nets you ten years in jail and… Surprisingly, twice the fine.
I will be an unruly inmate and have my friends bring me chocolate a cigarettes to use as money in the big house.
My sources tell me chocolate and cigarettes are no longer in prison currency. They now focus mainly on ancient Mayan artifacts. You’ll be broke, unless you’re friends with Indiana Jones or Edward Kenway.
It’s actually Ming Dynasty artifacts… Which I am stocked up on, only problem is smuggling them into prison, as they are quite large.
Ming is on the way out. I’m telling you, Mayan is where it’s at.
Mayan went the way of the calendar…
And Ming went the way of all priceless antique vases. Denis shot it with his slingshot.
Anyway, maybe the calendar was right, and it actually predicted a really tiny apocalypse in the middle of nowhere. A penny-sized mushroom cloud in Iceland.
Perhaps I will just have to rely on my stunning good looks, I do have excellent teeth for a llama after all. Between my looks, sheer charisma, and way with words I shall be fine in prison. Or I can be a politician. Meh, they are pretty much one in the same.
I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to be good looking in prison…
Also, it’s too bad you weren’t a politician in the first place. You would have been able to leap high above the law.
Both very good points. I may be in a lot of trouble.
I am open to jerky bribes, though. Too bad you fed all your jerky to the lion. You could have gone out scott free.
No addict gets rid of ALL her jerky…
Rule #1 of jerky club: never get rid of l your jerky.
Rule #2 of jerky club: never get rid of l your jerky.
Does that mean you have enough jerky to bribe me with?
I always have enough to open negotiations.
What flavor?
Pick a flavor, any flavor, what’s your fancy, what’s your style?
*opening the trunk and my trench coat to reveal hanging racks of jerky*
Why is so much of it green? Are you poaching aliens?
It’s so tender… Don’t judge.
Deal’s off. The last time I had alien jerky, I had wookieng-cough for a week. The smell of this stuff is making me… guh… Eraaaaaaaah! Reeeeaaaaah!
You’re going back in the slammer, bub. Let’s see how the alien inmates feel after they found out you’ve been chewing on their second cousin.
Get it? Chewing? Wookie-ing cough?
Bacca the heck up copper….
Only SOME of it is alien. Most isn’t. Although I have over consumed the wookie stuff. I used to be a hairless llama.
“Bacca the heck up copper”?
“Bacca the heck up copper”?
You know, I’m letting you off the hook for this whole jerky thing… and I’m suing you for the mental anguish that pun caused me.
This coming from the guy with the wookieing cough?!?
That is a serious medical condition!
I’m now going to triple sue you for both the mental anguish you caused me, the hate crime of insulting a serious disease, and the mental anguish you caused by that hate crime!
Can we come to am amicable settlement? After all, I am a llama. Think about how handy it could be to have a llama around. I could do all sorts of stuff… Like trim your lawn…
I could hire a bunch of illegal immigrants to trim the lawn of the mansion that your money is going to buy me!
You could probably hire them to spit for you too.
We are also known for spitting. So even your wookieing cough causes you to spit uncontrollably, you always blame me.
With all your jerky money I can finally get the operation to have my wookieing cough fixed.
All my jerky money? Man, my habit is bad. Sure I have some supply, but flat skint when it comes to money man. I can’t push the green stuff. People take one look at my gorgeous hair and back away.
It’s a curse I tell you. A CURSE!
Wait… maybe you’re a were-wookie?
Were meaning llama?
It would explain the hair… and the large claws flying towards my face…
I know a witch, according to the first comment on my nubbin post… If I were a werewookie I would have had her brew up a spell.
Oh, perhaps she can remedy your wookieing cough.
That occurred to me just as I read “brew up a spell.”
If you can get my cough fixed, find me a free mansion to live in, and give me a life time’s supply of jerky, you’ve got a deal.
Otherwise, you’re going into the slammer fresh from a triple lawsuit.
And believe me, you don’t want a triple lawsuit. A single lawsuit is pretty itchy, a double one is all scratchy and uncomfortably hot even in the fall, but a triple? It’d probably be pink to boot.
I’ll ask her for a recipe.
As for the mansion, would three refrigerator boxes attached by culvert piping, with a washing machine box wing suffice?
I’ve got you covered with the jerky.
Recipe? Sounds too complicated…
I guess the mansion would do, it has been a dream of mine since childhood to live in a giant cardboard house.
I’m not eating any of that alien jerky… if you can get me ten pounds of original flavored BEEF- and you must be sure it came from a cow, I’m sick of the ostrich stuff- jerky, you’re off the hook.
Don’t buy it from Jack Links, everyone knows that they’re the reason why you don’t see herds of sasquatch roaming the forest anymore.
Around here, Buc-ee’s has the best jerky. Granted their mascot is a beaver, but I have heard it can taste delicious.
Isn’t your father-in-law a urologist? Perhaps he has connections with other Plumbing College of Boston grads that can hook you up for your de-wookie-fication surgery.
I got an operation from him once for a separate condition… on the bright side, he’s now the supplier for the meds I take to write my short stories.
On the other hand, I have a squid tentacle growing out of the back of my neck.
And your main concern is fixing the wookie issue?
I have a lot of weird, supernatural medical problems. At this point it’s less about curing the more alarming ones and more about getting rid of the annoying ones. The tentacle doesn’t do anything but flop there and occasionally drag people into the briny deep while I’m sleeping- the wookieing cough, however, is loud and aggravating.
I get it. I’m a llama. With fabulous hair and claws.
I’m an herbivore with the aforementioned jerky addiction. Problems abound.
I think it’s probably more pleasant to be a jerky dealing llama than a corrupt addict cop with multiple freaky medical conditions who’s living in such squalor that he thinks a bunch of washing machine boxes form a beautiful mansion…
Perhaps. Grass is always greener when fertilized with llama poop. Either way you look at it, the junkie cop and the junkie llama are both spending their Saturday night engaged in blogging banter. The exciting life this llama leads.
Hey, this isn’t my whole Saturday night! I’m going to go out and get some KFC.
However, this conversation did constitute most of my Saturday… and my Friday… and Thursday… Wednesday, too…
This has been going on for a long time… it’s starting to make me question the direction I’ve taken with my life.
Don’t go all crazy and wild with the KFC… And pick me up a pot pie, would you?
And here I was thinking this conversation was bringing meaning to my life… Way to kick a junkie llama when they are down.
I was hoping you wouldn’t pick up on my llama-kicking hobby…
It’s hard not to when you’re the llama.
You seem surprisingly okay with the fact I’ve probably kicked your closest family members at least once.
Everyone needs a good swift kick once in a while.
Would it upset you more to know that, every once in a while, I go into petting zoos wearing steel toed boots, creeping menacingly towards the llama exhibit?
It does make me awful thankful I used my flowing locks of hair to distract the zoo keeper while I clawed my way I out of the cage to freedom…
Oh, you were that llama? You owe me two steel toed boots! They got all tangled up in you hair!
I was also dragged about forty feet before I thought to untie them, so you owe me all the teeth I lost due to the high number of rocks sticking out of the ground.
All I have are llama and shark teeth… You’re more than welcome to look through the bag of them and take as many as you like.
I have two left boots… In a men’s size 8…
I’ll take the llama teeth for a transplant into my mouth and the shark teeth for my necklace. The necklace celebrates the death of sharks and makes me feel better about the world.
As for the boots, it’s a damn shame. Though I do have two left feet, they’re size ten…
I’d recommend tanning the shoes into jerky. If you sell it to a gas station, no one will tell the difference, even if they weren’t leather.
After actually swimming with a hammerhead back in October, not out of anything but sheer stupidity, I can appreciate the necklace.
Sorry about the boots, I will slice then thin and sell them to the gas station. Not a bad idea. Want to go into business with me? We can hit up Goodwill stores and stock up on old boots.
I actually have a stockpile of old boots in my house. I can exchange them for genuine beef jerky.
I’m afraid I can’t go into business with you. I have another calling… shark hunting. Among Japanese fishing trawlers, I’m renowned for leaping into the water with nothing but a giant knife, some power armor, a bazooka, and a machine gun.
So, did the hammerhead avoid eating you because you’re a llama or because you were too hairy to get a grip on?
I’m going to go with singing Queen at the top of my lungs aided (scared) the shark from attacking.
And that is pure bravery. Going into shark infested waters like that. I bet your tentacle gives you an arm up on the competition.
Boooooooo! Not more puns!
I’d sue you for mental anguish again over the insult to my weird tentacle neck thing, but that’s been overdone at this point.
A llamas natural defense, other than the spitting thing, is puns. If we are going to hang out like this you will have to occasionally deal with a pun being interjected.
I knew a llama like you. He was a cold hearted conqueror, toppling nations and overthrowing the world for the one burning desire left in his cold heart… Jerky.
His name was Attila the Pun. And he shot my dog.
That explains your issues with llamas. I assured you, I am not a glory seeking dictator llama.
Are you sure you’re not a glory seeking despot llama? Or a fame seeking tyrant llama?
Llamas seem to be a greedy bunch… no offense.
Other than the occasional jerky fix and the odd request to procure me a pot pie, I am a fairly unassuming and undemanding llama.
Harvey Dent was an unassuming llama who didn’t ask for much.
Now look at him.
Don’t judge the bunch by one’s actions…
This doesn’t apply to apples or bananas.
Only llamas? It’s a conspiracy. Should have known, with you being a junkie cop and all.
And when can I expect that pot pie? A llama has to eat.
I’m not willing to actually order a pot pie. I thought you had a trunk full of jerky…
Suddenly you developed standards?
And have you not tasted the KFC pot pies? They are like llama crack… Veggies and that delicious flaky crust.
I can’t eat any vegetables that are both healthy enough and bland enough to be called “veggies.” I am the renowned director of “Fistfull of Chicken”, “A Few Steaks More”, and “The Gristle, the Burger, and the Porky”, after all.
Fistful of Chicken…. I may have let out a quite unladylike snort laugh at that.
I had many fistfuls of chicken at KFC. Some people like being fit and in-shape, but I’m content with fried chicken, pizza, and ice cream.
What if your “veggies” were all battered and deep fried? Would they then be considered taboo?
Indeed. Even if bacon were thrown into the mix. Veggies are just too horrible to imagine.
Bacon fixes EVERYTHING!!
I too once thought that bacon could fix every problem in the world…
But then I tried to use it to tape my radio back together.
You didn’t apply the bacon properly apparently.
It still didn’t fix the whole in the reactor chamber wall.
It did leave me with some delicious, green, glowing bacon, though.
You don’t eat green meat…
I don’t eat alien green meat. I DO eat green bacon.
It did make me grow an extra leg, though… a peg leg. It did help me get into the inner circle of Japanese shark hunting pirates, though.
Your “disorders”, with the exception of the wookie-itis, seem to really aid your shark hunting.
The wookieing-cough does help in shark hunting. If I can’t catch them, I can infect them.
Forget sharknado… It will be sharkbacca…
Sharks can’t survive the transition into wookieing-cough. They can’t produce the right sounds, so they explode like hand grenades due to the pressure.
That is an awesome visual. Can you catch it on film for me next time?
This has inspired me. Coming next fall: Pot Pie, The Movie.
It sounds like it will thrill all the senses!
Except smell, touch, sight, hearing, taste, smission, and ghostometry.
Well if you want to be technical.
I suppose it could thrill your sense of nausea.
Yes, that it could.
I have returned from my magnificent expedition to KFC.
Sadly, the chicken was overcooked.
I did, despite my protest, begrudgingly get you a pot pie.
I hope you like it…
https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTw4DCr0ma81OuAxmUU2lgcR0SOnXba3MZgWOQ6rBoBT6pcTLmmSQ
Oh it is fantastic! I even appreciate you testing it out to ensure it isn’t poisonous.
Yeah, I didn’t test it, I’m not sure who put the fork in it and took all those tiny rat-sized bites off the crust.
You were going to feed me poisonous pie?!?
No. I was going to feed you rat eaten pie that MIGHT be poisoned. There’s a big difference!
Ahhhh okay. At least you didn’t kick me again.
I didn’t technically manage to kick you the first time.
It’s the thought that counts.
Too bad that doesn’t work in the physical world, or I’d be able to sleep right now.
That is no bueno.
As you can gather by the 9 hour gap, I managed to fall asleep.
Are you part owl?
No, I just hiss and combust when in direct sunlight.
Though sometimes I just sparkle.
Oh… I didn’t realize you were homosexual… Perhaps we can bedazzle something sometime…
No, despite popular belief, I’m not actually gay. I just like to look fabulous.
Is it so wrong for a vampire to want to shine like a disco ball every now and then?
No, no it isn’t… glitter away!
*muttering under my breath about glitter being the devil’s tool*
I don’t GLITTER. Now I see where this confusion arose- I sparkle. Sparkling is straight, glittering is most definitely gay.
Glimmering is reserved for sea creatures and giant swords wielded by grand dragon slayers.
Shimmering is reserved for scales and eyes of said dragons.
I feel like I have been mislead my entire existence… Someone should write a sparkle manual.
I did. You can buy it for 20 bucks on amazon. It’s the most valuable three pages you’ll ever buy.
No, my “Dealing With Douche’s” is by far the most valuable 3 pages… cover, page one “DON’T”, cover….
Well, think about that. Someone is bound to learn that the douche is an unruly and unfriendly kind of person (at least, I hope you were talking about people,) yet you yourself mistook me for a gay vampire because you thought I was glittering and not sparkling.
It was a simple misunderstanding of your shimmer level…
Sigh… grasshopper, gayness does not increase with “level”. it increase with type.
One who shimmers shines as bright as one who glitters, but he still get all the ladies.
Now, try to take disco ball out of my hand.
Shimmer = straight
Glitter = gay
and why are you trying to get me to grab your ball?
This conversation is getting out of hand…
Unlike the disco ball.
You’re never going to be a llama-fu master at this point, grasshopper.
This is officially the most absurd conversation I have ever taken part in. Which says a lot considering the old people’s ramrod2000 vibrator conversation of 2006….
I didn’t need to think of that, grasshopper…
Now I’ve got more images in my head that I can never get out…
well, without another lobotomy, that is.
ah a lobotomy… all of the pieces suddenly click.
…Huh?
…Hey!
…I take offense to that!
It’s okay little buddy… I’d offer you a ride, but I’m not that kind of llama…
…Not sure what you mean by that, giant cat monster.
I thought we had put that in our past?
…You smell like purple.
I can’t help it.. I wash and I wash and I wash…
…Did you try washing?
I should try that…
…You smell like purple.
as do you… been hanging out with a llama too long.
…I smell like green.
…I could seriously use a shower, damn!
…But not as much as you could, purple cat monster.
You used to not judge llama’s by their color… what happened to you?
I said you smell like purple. I didn’t say I was judging you.
“purple cat monster”??? I am totally suing YOU now…
Nuh uh! I’m already being sued! Double indemnity!
Nice try bucko!
I’m suing myself for identity theft.
And who’s identity did you steal?
Mine.
That will make for an interesting witness statement.
I’ll have to run between chairs a lot. Hopefully the judge will have a sense of humor.
Good luck with that…
Judges are such sticks in the mud.
They are fun to poke though.
And toke.
I have yet to smoke a judge. I will have to take your word for it.
I meant their wigs. They’re all carrying, and that’s where they carry it.
I am not quite sure how one goes about smoking a wig either.
It’s not very good for you. It gives you hairy lungs.
Already coughing from wookie-itis. I would start coughing up hair balls.
No, your lungs actually get hairy. You won’t cough it up. You might turn into a yeti, though.
Will Jack Link’s come after me to make their Sasquatch jerky?
No, you’d be a yeti llama highbred. I can tell you from personal experience that llamas taste like crap.
I happen to think we taste fine thankyouverymuch!!!
The llama burger I had for breakfast begs to differ.
You may of had some bad llama. A commie llama.
The burger did have a mustache hanging out of it.
Communist dictator mustache? I mean other than porn-stache and tacky cop-stache, you are left with communist dictator-stache.
That and Tom Selleck.
You forgot dashing rogue-stache. Though slanted, it brings out the masculinity in any man’s face, no matter how melon-shaped. Women swoon when I walk in with my dashing, slightly weedy mustache.
People keep mistaking me for Mexican, though…
Mexican cops scare me. They send people to Mexican jails. You know what they did to my cousin, the donkey, in Tijuana??
No, because I’m not Mexican, damn it!
Why does everyone assume that?
…though the discount at Taco Bell is nice.
Excuse me Señor. Can you repeat slower and louder?
I A-M N-O-T A M-E-X-I-C-A-N!
Ohhhhhh…. I’m sorry.. I don’t speak Mexican… I’m from T-E-X-A-S… we’re N-E-I-G-H-B-O-R-S!
It is a pain in the butt to type with hyphens between caps.. LOL
You think it’s a pain to type that with a keyboard? I had to type the original on my tablet! It seemed to take an eternity…
LOL You win!
I’ll celebrate with a taco. Half off.
It’s the Mexi-stache…
And the sombrero. And the trumpet. Don’t forget the poncho. And I paid them in pesos.
You were a one man mariachi band! Impressive.
I had a tiny tuba surgically implanted into my cheek.
It makes embarrassing noises when I try to sigh or when my wookieing cough acts up.
This is officially the strangest conversation.
For you, maybe. This is just a Tuesday for me.
Granted, a pretty weird Tuesday…
Tuesdays tend to run the gamut of odd.
I find Tuesday, Wednesday, and Sunday to usually be pretty boring and ordinary.
Thursdays are wild and crazy?
Thursday used to be pizza day. It isn’t now…
But a man can dream, though…
A man can dream.
Ummmm olives and mushrooms!
HERETIC!
We only use pepperoni in the civilized world…
And now you expect me to believe you exist in a civilized world? Nice try…
Hey! Three legged, part wookie, part yeti, one man mariachi band, junkie, corrupt cops are highly respected in today’s society!
There are more of us than you might think.
But how many with a neck tentacle?
Well… I try not to let people know about that…
It’s hard to hide when you are in your custom Japanese trawler shark diving wet suit.
Wet suit? I don’t wear a wet suit! I wear a thick kodiak fur coat, along with my usual daily attire of a He-Man harness and rhino leather pants.
Then I plunge into the icy, fin studded waters, my harpoon in hand and a brutal expression hidden beneath a face filled with scars, pulling my shark tooth necklace out of my shirt as I plunge into the murky tide.
You paint the loveliest of images with your words. Hahaha
I liked that one so much I might have to put it in a real story…
I actually have the perfect one lined up for my blog within the next few months, I could put it in there…
Minus the part-yeti, wookieing cough, tentacle neck, peg leg, tuba implant, jerky addiction, constantly mistaken for a mexican part…
Uh yeah… Definitely leave the Mexican part out. That just makes it weird.
I suppose it doesn’t add to the dramatic, intensely cool atmosphere to be wearing a He-Man harness, either…
On the bright side, at least I wasn’t wearing the loin cloth.
No, the He-man harness toes it all together and makes it make sense. It’s a plot thickener.
It doesn’t make sense if I don’t wear the loincloth… and I’m NOT wearing the loincloth.
You’re a shimmering type. You could pull off the loincloth.
This is starting to drift toward the “Fabio/Llama” fanfiction territory. Is He-Man also into llamas?
Sparkly ones….
He-man is into sparkly llamas?
You didn’t know?? Don’t tell him I told you!
Too late.
Don’t be surprised if he’s breaking down your door in a few minutes…
You might want to put some glitter in your fur…
I am already wearing my custom adapted She-Ra outfit… I look quite good in it for a llama…
She-Ra llama.. that is one weird image.
She-Ra-Llama
That is totally my new porn star name.
There is a huge market for llama porn in Tijuana, you know..
I’M NOT A MEXICAN!!!!!!
ASDFASDAFGAGA $!#@$!@#$!@#$!!!!!
I’m sorry. The mustache confused me…
Isn’t He-Man there yet?
Oh he is. He likes the outfit. Asked to borrow it c
Creepiness aside, how would he fit in a llama adapted She-Ra outfit?
He said, and I quote, “I can make it work!”, when I asked him.
When is Skeletor going to show up? This episode is starting to drag…
and get pretty damn creepy…
I kicked him out. He was being disrespectful and I don’t tolerate that!
You go, llama girl! You are a strong, independant, snowy llama and you don’t need no skeleton to tell you what to do, mmm hmm!
I totally snort laughed at this! Bwahahaha
Don’t you go letting him back into your house, girl. You know he’ll go from sleeping on the couch to ordering you to get him his beer on poker night with all his friends, ya’hear.
Shoot this llama learned her lesson a long time ago! Which may be why I am sexually deprived. Haha
Deprived? Girl, you got He-Man making goo-goo eyes at you. Ain’t nobody gonna pass up that hunk of man.
(Instantly retconning the “strong, independant llama who don’t need no man” speech.)
Lmao!
That was the weirdest gender bender I’ve ever had to type…
Don’t make a girl go is recovering from being super sick laugh so hard she can’t stop coughing! The little llamas are looking at me strangely.
Your children were nearby while we were having this conversation about He-Man/Llama relationships?
Now I feel even worse about typing the words “hunk of man”…
No. I have a herd of miniature llamas.
Are they genetically enhanced? I have a tiny barrel of genetically stunted undead monkeys I keep in my side table.
Slightly. I do have a matched clone pair. Created and came into existence on the same day.
I have a lot of matching pairs of various animals I keep on my mystery island, the Island of Dr. Monk-roe. Cloning is my favorite sinister pass time since necromancy fell through…
*blink* *blink* *blink*
Oh, are you a tri-clops too? I recently added my third eye right where that pesky nose was.
I also have an addiction to medical procedures.
Yet can’t fix the wookie-ing cough… you are dumping all your money into beautification procedures, aren’t you?
Hey, I want to be the perfect me I can be!
After all, who wouldn’t want a three legged, three eyed, part yeti, part wookie, part squid, cloner, drug addict, jerky eating, dashing, mariachi playing, corrupt policing, gene manipulating, ethically ambiguous shark hunter who lives in a bunch of washing machine boxes stapled together?
You make me want to be a better llama… I am now inspired!
Start by getting that tail removed and replaced with something else… like a basilisk or a ouroboros.
I was thinking kangaroo tail… That sucker could come in handy.
How about the horse part of a centaur?
I’m a llama, defeats the purpose.
The horse part could carry you around, while lofting you into an upright position so you could kick your enemies!
As could the kangaroo tail, but with a bit more bounce in my step…
Maybe you’re looking at this from the wrong angle- a cyborg style tail could help you out immensely. It could be forty feet long, turn into a sword (like in Pacific Rim,) and pick up cars so you can throw them at people.
But you women don’t seem to be into the “Crush all who oppose you!” mentality. Not to be sexist, but based on past experiences, that surprises me…
I own and operate too many firearms to not have a bit of the “crush everyone who opposes me” mindset… LOL
You say that now, but put a bunch of jackass alpacas (after all, everyone knows llamas hate alpacas) in front of you and a car to fling at them, and you’ll choke. You all do.
I remember the time I tried to make my aunt throw a skyscraper at that rude hotdog vendor… she just smiled and laughed, saying “Oh, you’re so funny.” The missed opportunity saddens me to this day.
Put my cloned miniature llamas behind me and I will throw the car each and every time…
Fine then, Ms. Confident, if you’re so keen on crushing those who oppose you, get the cybernetic tail upgrade. Unless you’re too.. alpaca.
Oh hell no.. you didn’t!!!
I have the cybernetic Roo-1000 on order thankyouverymuch!
Oh, I’m so scared… alpaca!
“Beaaaa… baaaaaa. braaaaaggggh…”
I’m not sure what noise alpacas make…
Bawk Bawk Bawk
I’m pretty sure alpacas don’t cluck.
Not completely sure, though…
They do….
I thought they sqwauked. Or squealed. Or bleated.
But clucked?
Not in my wildest dreams.
And I’ve had some really trippy dreams.
Like that one where Willy Wonka was part of the minivan’s armrest and he abducted me…
I have only had fly baby dreams.. and Tom Selleck coming to my civil war plantation dreams…
That is a lie.. I have had more, but those were the weirdest and recurring…
I have very few dreams. I only really dream when I see nightmare fuel and my brain feels the need to build on it…
I also have frequent dreams where I’m standing on a rock formation in Monument Valley, and then I suddenly raise my arms and slide off of it to my doom…
Those recur all the time, since I was a toddler…
which is really creepy since I didn’t know about Monument Valley until I was 13…
And of course there was that one dream where I got to be a pokemon master.
I wish I’d had that one.
Only one I have had since I was a kid was where I was being chased by a dog and had to keep an ice cream cone with 31 scoops from falling as I ran… I have had overwhelming control issues from childhood apparently.. LOL
Mmmm ice cream…
At least it didn’t eerily foretell a death you couldn’t possibly have imagined at such a young age…
I still stay away from monuments and valleys, just in case.
I am totally going to google Monument Valley… Seems like I should know what this is.
And on a side note.. HOLY CRAP my blog just hit 850 followers in 5 weeks!!!
Good for you… *grinds teeth*
I can only imagine what getting to know you forms would look like if at this very moment we filled them out for one another based solely on the discovery process from this conversation.
From what I’ve gathered, you’re a sexually deprived llama with a thing for Safeway who has way too much hair due to a bizarre medical condition and constantly OD’s on jerky made from aliens. You also enjoy swimming next to dangerous sea creatures and genetically engineering tiny llamas to help you crush those who oppose you (damn, this would make a great dating site profile.)
You are also nurturing an addiction to medical procedures which I instilled in you. Go me!
*copy* *paste*
It would make for a good dating profile… And scarily enough it may weed out the weirdo’s….
Good luck… The last woman to reply to my dating profile… was…
SHE-RA!!!
Wah hah hah hah ha!
*collapses into weeping ball of sadness in the corner*
It just started to sink in… that she really left me… for freaking JEM!
It’s the star on the eye thing.. it is hard to top.
But I have three eyes! Surely that’s good enough for her…
then you need two stars.. one up Jem! You can do it!
But what about the hair? And the extraneous body parts?
I just don’t think a guy like me can win back an annoying, abusive princess no other man wants…
Then RISE ABOVE!
I know… I’ll get a giant toe attached to my chest so I can open doors more easily! She’ll love it!
I can’t believe you took this long to figure out what would truly impress a girl.
And I could graft a finger to my upper lip so I can easily pick my nose whenever I feel the urge!
Women love efficiency.
Do you have any extra fingers handy?
Oh, I see what you did there…
Booooooo!
and Monument Valley is gorgeous, I totally did know what it was.. and would not like to fall either..
The creepiest part of the dream was that it was a third person view, and I suddenly slid without moving over the edge, to my doom a hundred feet below.
Also, it was so hot any ice cream I had on me surely would have melted.
Bad combo… Melting ice cream and a sure death.
It’s probably the saddest scenario imaginable. Especially the ice cream… all that phish food, gone to waste…
Ben and Jerry mourn…
Don’t worry, I still have some Americone Dream…
Any Cherry Garcia?
No… BECAUSE I’M NOT MEXICAN!
okay okay okay… sheesh.. calm down… What are you, like from Mexico then? *said in my most ridiculous valley girl voice*
Then remembered you are anti-valley…
That’s actually hilariously apt, since the valley girl voice aggravates me to no end!
Is there anyone who doesn’t get aggravated by it?
Valley girls, apparently.
I suppose valley guys have gotten used to it by now.
I’ll put “avoid valleys” on my bucket list.
Don’t forget “avoid monuments”.
I hate those monument girls and their annoying voices.
Even worse than valley girls.
I think it’s the tinny, coppery, steely effect that really gets to me, even more so than the valley girl style.
That didn’t make me feel much better…
If I wasn’t assured in the pile of ultra macho testosterone that I am, I would question my masculinity now…
I may be a deprived llama, but you are a depraved… creature?
Oh, I’m definitely human. At least, the character that represents me in my short stories is…
You should definately read those. All of those. Tell your friends! Buy a t-shirt! Spy on your friends to make sure they read them all, too!
Do it. NOW!
Spy on my friends? Last time I did that I caught them spying on me. Nose to nose with binoculars. Awkward.
Better than nose to nose with drones.
Oh, that takes me back… one of the many girls who refuses to talk to me now.
You’re still more skilled at illegal spying than the NSA.
Very good point.
Whoever was assigned to read this just shed a single tear and sighed. He’ll get used to it eventually… but it still hurts.
I only wish I could peek at my NSA file… I am sure they have assembled all of my online personalities by now. It would be quite interesting.
I also pity the poor fools that signed up to receive follow up comments on this thread.. they may be the ones that Axe Bombed my house on Sunday…
That poor guy who was talking about African jerky is probably standing in the burnt rubble that was his computer, confused and upset, while the screen’s final image flashes: WAY TOO MANY EMAILS! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!
And he was such a nice fella… *holds hat over chest in mourning*
I seriously hope he didn’t read the part where Fabio made out with a llama.
Or the part where He-Man made out with a sparkly llama while dressed in a She-Ra outfit made for a llama…
or the part where I called He-Man a “hunk of man”…
It’s out… everyone knows how you feel about He-Man…
It’s out… oh, even She-Ra knows… I thought she and I had a good thing going…
Though I’m pretty sure she was cheating on me with one of the thundercats.
No it was Jem…
I always did get that vibe from both of them… though it might just be the canned voices, terrible microphone quality, and grainy film that made so many of them give off the whole “Fruitastic!” feel.
and the glitter
This conversation is so politically incorrect…
LMAO That is part of the beauty of it.
It makes me feel like I’m breaking all the pointless rules our society has…
It makes me feel…
like an outlaw.
*Western whistling music plays in the background as I pull out my revolver*
which ties right into my firearms comment…
“Waaaa-oooh-waaa-oooh-waaaah!
Waaah waah wahh.”
And so, the brave shark hunting outlaw and his hairy wookie llama sidekick rode into the sunset…
chased by a lot of screaming politicians and a small group of protesters.
For a while I was “sidekick” to my bestfriend, “Poster child”… alas.. he friend dumped me…
I was relegated to “Kick” with no side.. and that gets awkward and painful when people take it literally…
Well, with the “side”, he would have probably kicked you with the side of his foot like a soccer ball, which might just hurt more. Especially if he took it extra literally and side kicked you in your side.
There must be a thing for llama kicking.. is it some underground sport that I am unaware of?
Damn, I spilled the beans…
As long as you don’t find out about our deal with Filson’s Steel Toed Boots, I think the massive conspiracy of llama kicking is probably safe.
Good thing I ordered that tail…
Oh damn, I hadn’t thought of that… I’d better assemble the Brethren of the Steel Toed Shoe… We’ll have the biggest war on our hands since the Great Llama Hyperspace War of 2258.
I have ordered mini tails for my clones… I am mounting my own cyberllama minion uprising!
And so it began… the bloodiest war in history, between the cyber llamas and the Brethren of the Steel Toed Shoe…
Two hundred million people and llamas died on the eve of the war…
And there was no sign of either side relenting…
To think it all sparked due to a conversation about jerky.
The first casualty was the poor South African’s computer… went down in a fiery explosion….
The next three were pots of brownie batter I stuffed my face with.
It’s not easy being a single llama in the ‘teens…. (And “in the ‘teens” just doesn’t have the same ring as “in the ’90’s)
From what I gather from all these sayings, it’s not easy being anyone any time on earth.
Or Chester Cheetah.
Indeed, it isn’t easy being anyone one on Chester Cheetah.
The orange stains are a pain to remove.
I know, I lived on Chester’s snout for two years in a little bungalow. He just kept shoving more and more cheetos in his fat face… it was both sickening and distressing, as I had to watch his descent into morbid obesity and wash all the dust out of my clothes and curtains.
It’s sad what a food addiction can do….
And just like that… Back to jerky.
The steady anchor that has held this conversation together from the start.
I was surprised to read my first comment in the chain, I barely remember typing it.
Time sure flies when you’re on LSD.
Maybe that is why my time seems to go in slow motion…
I’ve been looking at the trails my hands make since this conversation started a week ago…
I haven’t slept at all. I’ve just been staring at my hand…
Duuuuuuude…
It was the green jerky.
No, it was the cocktail of LSD, wigs, and shark burgers. I’m perpetually tripping spheres…
Yeah, well I totally had a second cup of coffee… hell yeah… with sugar…. that’s how I roll….
And I totally had my third chunk of rainbow cotton candy… gosh darn, you betcha… with a swiss roll and a glass of milk… that’s how I spin…
What is it with men and Hostess products? ew
I actually shipped twinkies overseas… LOL
I didn’t buy them from Hostess, I bought them from my dealer…
They call him the Snack Artist.
He works at Safeway.
And he charges a dollar less.
Does he keep them in his trench coat and trunk like I do my jerky?
No, he sells them in yellow boxes with drawings on them…
Do they seriously not have the Snack Artist in your Safeways?
They don’t have safeways… we are deprived I told you!
You said you were sexually deprived. I didn’t know you had a thing for Safeways.
You really can get a lot there…
I usually go there for swiss rolls and bread, not whatever it is you’re after, you sick llama…
Chocolate… I am female…
You women think only you can binge on chocolate…
But I have proved that men, too, can be chocoholics!
I have eaten three potfulls of brownie batter over 2013.
I couldn’t even wait for them to bake.
All in one sitting or do you dip in and take a spoonful per day?
You kidding?
I sat down at the dinner table and shoved the entire pot INTO MY FACE.
Because I’m that hardcore of a chocoholic.
I did get a nasty tummy ache, though. Too much raw egg…
and probably a hell of a breakout…
Have you ever tried dipping your entire head in brownie batter?
It de-ages you. My frown lines were gone after just a couple soakings. But you don’t have to take… my word for it.
does it just fill in the wrinkles? After all I am a llama who would probably by considered middle aged now… by her mother… not that I harbor any ill will for her stating that on my last birthday or anything…
It does kind of fill in the wrinkles… with caked, soon-to-be-rotting brownie batter… and the egg does attract a lot of birds, bees, and bears…
But still, your friends will find you much funnier! Everyone was pointing and laughing at me, saying “Hey! Sertimer washes his face in the outhouse!”
I don’t know what an outhouse is, but I assume it’s where all the cool people go to wash up after a long, hard day of brownie facial treatments.
Yeah, you dip your face in… Just make sure you keep your eyes closed!
I don’t need to close my eyes, I have crocodile secondary waterproof eyelids.
Also,”Don’t wanna close my eyes! Don’t wanna fall asleep! I don’t wanna miss a thing…”
You may have been singing Queen when you swam with the hammerhead… but I was humming Aerosmith as I dove into the fin filled waters face-first.
Cause I’m a manly man. Thing. Manly man-thing. Whatever I am, I’m damn manly.
Aerosmith would be my number 2 band of choice….
Did we talk about Queen and the hammerheads here? I can’t remember.. LOL
Aerosmith isn’t actually that high on my list. I just hum it because it’s catchy.
My favorite music is either One Direction or Justin Bieber.
Figures… but do you like then more or less than Backstreet Boys and Cher?
Backstreet Boys?!
“I waaant it thaaaaaat a-way…
Ain’t nothing but a… um… latterday, I’m… uh… something of a scatterbrain, Oh I want it that way!”
And back to He-Man being a hunk.. just like that.
Man, if I’m not fruity enough to remember more than “I want it that way,” out of a song TITLED “I want it that way,” I’m not deserving of this He-Man suspicion.
Even if I do find him gorgeous.
It’s the quasi-Fabio hair…
What, my rugged war braids?
I’ll have you know chicks dig these things.
It’s just a side effect that they happen to look fab-u-lous!
Is it the shampoo?
Shampoo? What’s that, some sort of towel?
*Mud drips out of my hair as some lice jump out of the inflamed bald spot on the top of my head*
No wonder She-Ra digs Jem…
Oh, She-Ra, I’ll miss you…
You always used to yell at me and tell me I was barely half a man, then hit me with a newspaper…
WHAT WILL I DO WITHOUT HER?!
You can hire a mexican for cheap to hit you with a newspaper and yell at you… I am sure you have connections..
They’ll probably give me half off due to confused nationalities, too.
But a fat hairy mexican guy can’t hold a candle to my beautiful, blonde, bitchy aphrodite…
LMAO!
*holding my hand out to shake* I’m Lisa, by the way.. Nice to meet you…. over 500 comments later.
I try not to shake hands. Sometimes adamantite claws shoot out of the knuckles. I hope you can accept this humble high-five…
You already know my name. Lemur Man.
Though my friends just call me Sertimer. Or Sert. Or Sretlemur. Sometimes Dan. Or Bob. Occasionally Dr. Anomalous. Never Mike.
I was called “The Twelfth Doctor” one time, but I think that was just a fluke.
Anyway, pleased to meet you. Having met you before. And having talked to you for the better part of a week.
And anyway, I think you’ll find my wording to be “hunk of man”, not just “hunk”
Forgive my mistake, I would hate to have misquoted your special affections for animated characters.
Maybe now that this whole He-Man business is cleared up, She-Ra will come back to me…
There is still the issue of Jem…
You’re right… I suppose I’d better set my sights on a more realistic target…
Is Velma still single? I heard she stopped running with the mystery gang.
Ah I bet I did when we first brought up sharks..
I’m guessing that story about you swimming with the hammerhead was a lie…
A DAMN DIRTY LIE!!!
Oh it wasn’t a lie… It was friggin awesome. I think I should have known it wasn’t safe when we didn’t see a single fish in the ENTIRE area we were snorkeling in…
You’re a braver llama woman than I.
Personally, fish creep me out. Goldfish, clownfish, barracudas, remoras, oarfish, arapaima, you name it, it creeps me out.
Eels are cool, though.
I dig water… Big time. Pools are nice, rivers cool, lakes better, but the ocean tops them all hands down.
I’ve been known to glance at glasses of water and scream in horror, then run out of the room shouting “I THINK I SAW A SHARK!”
Kind of contrasts the whole “Diving into arctic pool filled with sharks armed with nothing but a harpoon” thing.
How do you do with the whole, “must shower regularly” thing?
Show..er?
I think that means “to douse someone with wealth”, right?
I’m cool with being doused with money on a regular basis.
If that is the case, can I be doused as well?
No. Llamas don’t get to be doused with riches. Only llama slop.
I should have been a cow.. then I could at least be revered in some cultures… Although repulsive in others.. I suppose being any animal has it’s drawbacks.. Even T-Rex got the short arm deal working for them…
Why do people always overlook the allosaurus? They were big (almost t-rex sized), fast, agile, cool-looking, and they even had long arms to boot!
Plus they got awesome head ridges.
Oh… Can I be one of those? Know a good scientist that can change me?
I have a hobby of turning obscure farm animals into even more obscure dinosaurs.
You just have to make sure that you’re okay with being legally filed under “monstrosity”. I’ve had too many angry clients come banging down my door because of the whole “Police officers are legally obligated to throw tomatoes at you” thing.
I need to read a contract and indemnity clauses first…
Just scroll to the bottom and check the little box.
Don’t worry.
You’ll be “fine.”
Damn, that was really cinematic, I should use that for something.
Insert some soothing background music when you do.
It’ll be soothing, but as soon as the bald, creepy scientist guys says “You’ll be ‘fine’…” the music will abruptly fade, and the camera will pull back, the room filled with shadow, only the scientist and his desk visible, lit as though by some invisible fire, his voice echoing in the background “Fine… fine… fine… fine…”
And finally, a soft cackle fills your ears as the scene fades to black.
Perfect cinematic effects.
Of course, then I actually need a story for the rest of it, which is pretty much the deathknell for a fairly hard to use image.
Always over thinking things…
Well, I suppose I could just copy and paste it into a blog post and put it out there for no reason, with no leadup and no editing. My subscribers are used to lack of effort. I haven’t published anything since January 7th!
Always a date devil. Haha
I’ve been blogging for three years… and most of it has been spent on hiatus.
Ah I am a newbie. Only since July with my real life serious blog and this one for five weeks.
Real life? Serious? That sounds hilarious and positifically funtacular!
Yeah. It sucks. And this is buried far enough in comments odds are no one else will see:
Stumblingonward.wordpress.com
Oldest first for the true crazy to be effective.
Oh, come now! I’m sure it can’t be worse than my blog.
My next post is going to be about a headache I had two weeks ago.
I’ll have to see it later, I need to go to sleep ASAP so I don’t miss a pizza incoming later today.
Take care!
I got my pizza… it was delicious… but it was so filling…
Double the cheese, with as much sauce as possible.
And ALL pepperoni.
okay.. that seriously sounds good… Like sinfully deliciously gooey good… Better than my leftover chili.
The pepperoni was cooked to perfection, bringing out its juicy flavor while still making it crispy around the edges. The cheese was gooey, and plentiful enough so that it dripped off the pie. The sauce was overflowing, held down by the cheese, flowing like a delicious torrent of herbs and spices into my mouth. The crust was crispy and soft, supporting it like the foundation to a building.
In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have said all that since you just mentioned your leftover chili.
You ruined it with the rivers of sauce… I am a light sauce kind of gal…
Guess my chili will suffice, which it was going to have to anyhow as it has already been consumed.
LIGHT SAUCE? I’ve never heard of such a thing… that freaks me out… it’s like someone ordering a hamburger without pickles or ketchup…
No pickles would be sacrilegious… light sauce is just good taste.
“Good taste”? “GOOD TASTE”?
You have offended my honor-u!
Now you reave me with no choice…
KAME HA ME HAAAAAAA!
*hurriedly singing “Deck The Halls” ala A Christmas Story*
fa ra ra ra raaaa ra ra ra raaaaaa
(Yes, I know not Japanese… but it is as good as you’re gonna get.)
That’s RACIST!
Good thing I’m not Japanese, or I’d bust a rasengan on your comments section.
Like DUH! You’re totally like Mexican!
…
That was the sound of a blood vessel EXPLODING in my head.
What’s the matter? I totally said that in my valley girl voice and not my monumental girl voice. Geez, man!
I saw the blood vessel that exploded leave the house a few minutes later. He looked mad, and he was carrying a baseball bat.
Uh oh. Good thing my new tail arrived today.
It was delivered by an amazon drone, in case you were wondering how I ordered it this morning and already have it.
A tiny drone made to carry two pound packages lifted a twenty ton titanium kangaroo tail?
It was 40,000 drones. Shipping was ridiculous.
I suspect it must have crushed your front porch.
Did they leave it under the mat?
They tried, but not having opposable thumbs it was hard.
How many crashed drones now litter your street?
None. I hid them all in my garage to work on a flying transformer-esque project.
Maybe you could order some more cybernetic parts from Amazon. Then you’d have more drones to work with AND parts to add to your new Enemy Crusher 9001.
Planning on it first thing in the morning before they notice the 40,000 missing drones.
Hopefully you can get the project done as soon as possible so that, if Amazon opposes you, you can CRUSH THEM more easily.
So far my drone army is 39,997 strong…
We had a couple “incidents”.
You also have mail, btw.
I use different browsers for all the different addresses I manage. Sadly, that one was left on Internet Explorer. I’m afraid I’ll have to check it in a moment, when my cat stops sleeping on my lap and I can reach my iPad.
She just yawned and is now staring pensively into the distance. It won’t be too long.
LOL no worries I am going to sleep in a few. I didn’t realize it was closing in on midnight. No wonder I am tired. 5 a.m. Rolls around entirely too quickly.
I hate sleeping. Every day seems to start out poorly, and then, just as it gets interesting, you’re too tired to enjoy it. I consider getting an hour less sleep to be a triumph, since it leaves a longer day to be had.
I love sleeping. I cherish sleeping. I should do more of it.
The actual act of sleeping doesn’t bother me- I like being asleep. In fact, I’m mostly asleep even when I’m awake. It’s the loss of time that bothers me.
The problem is, when I sleep time flies by and when I do things like laundry the time inches by. That is unnatural and shouldn’t be.
I don’t know about that. Why would anyone want to sleep if it felt like a thousand years passed in just eight hours?
Maybe the reason why we all dislike drudgery like laundry is because it takes longer in our minds.
With a herd of miniature cloned llamas, it takes quite a while.
8 hours would be perfect. Sign me up for that!
Getting 8 hours of sleep is like getting a million dollars at the lottery, Nice, but you can still live without it.
I myself would prefer the lottery thing.
Well if push comes to shove, I’d take the lottery thing too.
On second thought, I’m not sure if I would.
A lottery ate my uncle.
I’ve always been prejudiced against all lotteries ever since…
Maybe I will stick to a lottery with dentures. They can’t chew as well.
Just hit it with a baseball bat. It’ll show it who’s boss.
If only uncle Rajahkbar had a baseball bat…
A baseball bat?!? Why on earth did I spend £8,000 on this tail?
£?
Pounds?
POUNDS?
I thought you were an American, not some kind of… foreign… person…
Like a Mexican. Mexicans use pounds, right?
I am an American. That tail was hard to find. Only one available was being sold in Corninghamptonwetonvillacornishtonchestershire, England. Hence the pounds.
You should know what Mexicans use… Duh.
That reminds me, did you manage to evade that burst blood vessel that came after you with a baseball bat?
He re-exploded on impact of the smell of the Axe Bomb. Now my porch is a right mess.
Ew…
Very
Very ew. Much disgust. Doge likes it not.
Maybe that is why the neighborhood dogs have quit coming around for a spot of tea.
You should probably throwing spots with tea at them. It gives them fleas, and portable holes.
I tried tossing a black hole once. It didn’t turn out like I had planned.
Oh, so you’re the one the New York Times was talking about when they said “Disaster! Llama Thought It Would Be A Good Idea to Throw World Destroying Black Hole!”
*shuffling hooves and hanging head*
Maybe
I heard it sucked up a whole district of stuffed animal factories, ice cream parlors, and disneylands.
It ruined the happiness of many small children and lonely single cat ladies.
It also released thousands of horrific aliens from another dimension to try to colonize earth.
Smooth move, Ferguson.
I told you. Sometimes genius goes awry.
I know I’m a genius and I haven’t thrown any black holes right towards a district everyone knows is called “Happy town”.
Run in the fact you haven’t destroyed all babies and puppies happiness!
I will do my best to run in that fact just to prove to you that I’m right.
Ugh. Rub in.
It’s now 7… How long can I use my “it’s early” excuse?
My advice is to use it until you can use your “it’s late” excuse.
Good advice!
Thank you. It took seven years in tibet for me to learn such sage wisdom.
I mention £’s one time and turn British in my thoughts.
I’m an eighth British and even I don’t ever think in British unless I’m making fun of Britishers.
1/8th British?
I am trying to a avoid a 7/8th’s Mexican comment….
Actually, I’m 1/8th Brit, 1/8 Scotts-Irish, 1/8 Welsh, 1/8 Welsh, 1/8 German, and 1/2 Pakistani.
*Deep Voice* But I’m alllll man.
Well, except for all the wookie and animal parts.
I am impressed that you are 9/8th!
Wait a second…
Damn, the one time I remember that I’m part welsh and it screws up the whole equation.
I’m a mutt. Mostly English, Irish,and German. I don’t have exact percentages.. But then again, neither did you. Haha
If three heritages constitutes a mutt, then what am I? Some sort of super hybrid of different mutts, forming a mega mutt?
Those are the “main” three. LOL
Hey, at least you have a chance of nailing down who you’re exactly related to.
I have hundreds of cousins and no one knows if they’re even part of the small civilization we call a “family”.
We are supposed to try and find all our cousins? On purpose?
Not unless you’re a hillbilly AND a bigamist.
Never both simultaneously.
No, there was once a hillbilly who dabbled in.. quite a lot of bigamy.
And now we have arkansas.
Cue banjos.
I didn’t have anything against Arkansas until I saw Mud.
Now we’re mortal enemies.
You speak of movies and references in which I don’t know.
I’ve actually referenced a ton of stuff this whole time that you haven’t caught. That happens a lot to me, though. Nobody seems to know about Blackadder…
His horse is blacker than a vole,
His pot is blacker than his kettle
Good folk, lock up your son and daughter
Beware his deadly flashing blade
Unless you want to end up slaughtered
Blackadder, Blackadder, he rides a pitch black steed! Blackadder, Blackadder, he’s very bad in deed!
Good night, you slimy little man!
That must be your 1/8th British speaking.
Tell me you actually know about Blackadder…
I NEED to hear that somebody else in the world actually heard of it.
Did I not mention you being 1/8th British?
I don’t know much about smallville, but I have heard of blackadder. Rowan Atkinson, yes? (I am pretty sure that is Mr. Bean’s real name)
Indeed.
Though my favorite character was Baldrick.
I am debating on humoring you or telling you that the extent of my Blackadder knowledge is that it is an English show that had/has Mr. Bean in it.
My whole world was just crushed…
This is just like the time that I found out that Santa… didn’t actually conquer the martians.
No, no he didn’t. He just took some to his cave to work in his sweatshop. The other Martians battle to this day to free them on a day we call… Black Friday.
One thing I always wondered about Santa when I was a child- how come the government doesn’t shut him down for releasing all those All Rights Reserved Star Wars toys he gave me?
And do they enforce child labor laws and minimum wage standards with him also?
Maybe the government secretly FUNDS SANTA ILLEGALLY!
We’ve just uncovered a massive conspiracy.
Always knew he was a shady character.
He used to make a living off of walking up to passersby in dark alleys, opening up his red, fluffy jacket, and saying “Hey man, I got it all! Presents, candy, I’ve even got some fir trees in the trunk! I’m cheap, too, man, just one glass of milk and a cookie for anything you see here! Come on, man, you know you want to…”
Who knew he would rise to such power and influence.
Mrs. Claus. She is the brains behind the operation.
No, I heard she was a little loose, if you know what I mean.
She wasn’t able to hold onto flag poles very well.
I think it’s Rudolph. Little bastard has been creeping me out since he was first put in claymation. And Santa wasn’t really BIG until Rudolph came into the picture.
“Hey, hey, hey! San-ta! The big S! You hear me, boy, we’re gonna go far! Just give me control of your movie rights for a week and we’ll be sipping martinis in Tahiti! You let your boy Rudolph take care of everything!”
“Why does your nose glow like that? It’s freaking me out…”
“Don’t worry about it, big S, it’s just a skin condition.”
I totally read the whole thing in the creepy claymation voices.
At least that fruity little elf wasn’t involved.
“Hey guys! What’s going on?”
Oh great…
“I just got this new coat! It has se—-quins!
I’ve gotta say, I look absolutely fabulous.”
It’s the curvy shoes.
And the lipstick.
The overly groomed eyebrows.
The complete lack of any sign of facial hair on a fully grown elf.
The drawn on Marilyn beauty mark.
The hairdo is as flaming as you can get without pouring lighter fluid on Elton John.
I haven’t laughed out loud at comments this much ever. Granted 700 or so, there better be some snort laughter inducing ones.
Typing that boosted my self esteem.
We make a great team here. We really should be writing some of these down…
Oh wait.
If by great you actually mean completely ridiculous and dysfunctional, then HECK YEAH!!
If you’ve read any of my blog at all then you know that that’s how I roll.
Or tumble.
More of spinning mixed with falling off a cliff, really.
I am just clumsy and tend to do the walk trip catch yourself routine often.
I think of myself as hopeless one minute and as the ultimate badass the next.
I realized this when I looked back at the “spinning off a cliff” comment and thought “Damn, that’s a really cool image! I’m awesome!”
It is a super cool image… DON’T add a tutu.. it takes away from the coolness…
Fine, I’ll add a rainbow afro wig.
Better
Do you think the shirt made of polish sausage and the flash pants are too much?
Kielbasa shirt and hot pants…
I also have some fluffy alpaca slippers.
best use of a rotten alpaca…
How can you say that about your own kind?!
)this is my revenge for the mexican thing)
Because some Mexican guy egged me on to say it…
Damn…
I didn’t see that one coming.
Or the typo I made in my comment.
It happens to the best of us.. rarely to some… but all get there eventually.
What, being mistaken for an alpaca, mexican, or wearing rotting dead farm animals on your feet?
all of it, simultaneously…
It’s a grand symphony of oddity.
Official operatic album title!
The cover of it will be Stereotypical Black Woman with her face photoshop morphed into Liberachi.
Brilliant again!
No matter what I achieve in life, I won’t be able to top this train of thought.
Pretty much…
Cure cancer.. close, but not quite.
Achieve world peace.. almost as good.
Streak across the 50 yard line during the super bowl… maybe.
I only managed to streak across the 1 yard line. No one noticed me…
Also, it wasn’t the superbowl, it was the regular bowl. So few people were there to see it in the first place.
Never do it at the cereal bowl.. or the mixing bowl.. just less effective.
You’ll shock the Cookie Crisp wolf, though.
His eyes are perpetually bugging out, so you might not get the satisfaction of his shocked expression.
But he does make a mean cereal…
I wonder how he sees the cookies if his eyes are always ten feet away from his hands when he’s making ’em?
Mirrors
Of course…
Either that or he hires Ethiopian slaves to do it for him.
That’s RACIST!
No, that’s NATIONALIST!
Whatever you TECHNICALIST!
That’s DEFINITIONIST!
If you say so Mr. ARGUMENTALIST
Well, thank you, Ms. CAPITALIST!
Puuuuuuuun.
*drum roll, cymbal crash*
Finally, I deserve the late night tv version of a laugh track.
I always dreamed this day would come…
It comes with the llama award that I can remember the name of.
The My Little Llama Award, with Rainbow Sprinkles and Sparkles McGee on the trophy?
With luscious locks of hair you can comb?
I guess you could try, though they are cast in bronze.
I am a determined llama.
And on a side note, I am both fascinated and frightened a bit by the magnitude of these comments. I feel like this could go on eternally, us become excellent friends that know nothing at all and yet everything about the other. It’s a surreal feeling. Not unlike this entire conversation.
If you read all of these then you know me pretty well.
I’m infinitesimally complicated and really simple at the same time.
Every time this conversation lulls, it picks up again even better than the last time… I remind you of stereotypical black woman and shark hunter.
DAMN IT IPAD WHEN I WANT TO TYPE WE’LL I WON’T TYPE WELL! I’VE DONE THIS BEFORE,
I am pretty sure there were words before that last sentence, however my brain only retained the last two lines.
So many freaking typos on this thing! I used a comma instead of a period at the end of that last one…
Does it act like my iPhone and bump you out of a reply if you get a new comment?
That is driving me almost nuts enough to get up and go get on my laptop.
Oh… Yeah.. I get loads of comments all the time… I’m cool and popular…
Oh! It bumped me out right there! It totally did!
and a miniature cowboy hat perched atop the afro wig.
With a tiny fez on top of that.
A monkey wearing a tiny fez… you have to have the monkey in there somewhere anyhow…
I feel like that ruins the simple hilarity of the rainbow wig with a tiny cowboy hat. That was so perfect, and I had to go and ruin it…
put the fez wearing monkey in the pocket of the hot pants… Then it leads to the age old, “Is that a monkey in your pocket?” questions…
I think I might put the monkey on my so I can make the more innocent joke about having a monkey on your shoulder for an addiction.
Since I try to keep my stuff PG.
Unlike some llamas.
(Though I didn’t keep any of this conversation PG)
My life is ALWAYS PG.. I have too many kids to be dirty.. I have to let it out somewhere.. LOL
I sure hope none of your kids read any of this. I’d hate to have the “That;s Racist!” opera passed around the school yard.
Or the meth addict gnome who does full contact flamenco.
Or the frequent relationships between people and llamas.
Or that time I called He-Man a “hunk of man”.
Or the time you imitated an asian trying to sing “DEck the Halls”.
At this point, I’m worried adults might read this.
Well… when put like that…
And no, my kids don’t read this. Only two can read.
But that is also why I keep my blog locked down as far as privacy goes.. my kids don’t need to randomly stumble upon it. LOL
I sure hope my parent’s don’t randomly stumble upon this, either- my Dad is the nosy type, most of our conversations start with “So how’s your internet stuff doing?” or something of the sort…
Come to think of it, I also have a flour sack wife and thousands of pound cake children who probably shouldn’t read this…
I’m not sure if anyone should read this.
I’m not sure if we should read this…
You can’t read.. you’re safe… the rest of us.. we’re screwed.
Even more screwed than Bender’s aunt, Rita.
And she’s a screw.
I don’t know if I can handle that….
YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE 30th TV REFERENCE!
I pushed Nicholson as far as he could go with that one.
Yes, yes you did…
I’m sorry, Jack. I’ll try harder next time…
Actually, I’ve tried harder with this conversation than I have with my blog for the past month.
I am honoured!
Slipped the extra U in there as I am back to channeling my inner Brit.
Those extra Us steam my cabbage even more than square hole pegs, I’ll tell you hwhat.
Colour. Armour. Honour.
It’s Sickening. It’s Absurd. Heinous! Asinine! Reticent! Effervescent!
Iridescent?
Now, don’t take it too far.
Yes, sir.
A llama who can take orders! Now that’s rare. You’re going to be in L company- maybe you can get those filthy alpacas to ship up and shape out.
Sir, Yes Sir! *snappy salute* if anyone can, Sir, it is me, Sir!
That’s what I like to hear. I’m officially promoting you to General of the Alpaca Army.
You’ll have to spend every second of your day near alpacas. Every… second.
Even THIS second!
*pulls off fake face again and reveals that my identity is really Alpaca Man*
You are a multi-layed personality, Sir!
*uses tail to wipe out entire alpaca army in one swipe*
Oh, but did you see THIS coming?!
*Pulls off alpaca face to reveal that my identity is really your tail*
Thwarted again by the masked man!
Oh really? Masked man, am I?
But did you expect THIS?!
*Puts on face to reveal my identity as me*
No, no I didn’t see that coming. Perhaps because of THIS!
*pulls off mask to reveal a jerky addicted cop*
Jim? They told me you were dead! Oh, it’s so good to see you! So how’re Mom and Dad?
Great. They retired to the lake house. Years of talking about it, finally made the move. They ask about you often enough, I make up stories about where you’ve been, what animal you’re morphing into, and what weird surgical procedures you have had done. They seem to enjoy hearing about you.
Well, the funny thing is that most of those stories are actually true.
Is aunt Edna still making those pies with faces drawn on them?
Just like usual. You should see the blueberry one she just made. Calls it Toby.
That’s uncanny… My latest son’s name is Toby!
It’s not like he is blue or anything. Now THAT would be weird.
You’re freaking me out, man…
Deeeuuuuudddeeee
Deeeeeuuuuuuuudeeeeehhhhh!
You know there’s one creepy guy sitting at his computer screen with bloodshot eyes, staring at this comment thread and refreshing the page over and over again…
Every time one of us hits Reply, he says, “Yeeees…. more…. mooooore…”
As he mainlines coffee laced with speed.
He’s also drawn pictures of both of us on pillows with underwear on them, occasionally looking at them with a creepy, crooked smile, saying, “Society may have rejected me. They may have called me a pervert, and told me to get out of their bedroom closet.
But you…
You LOVE ME.”
At least a hasn’t crossed over to making voodoo dolls in out likeness yet.
He won’t do that until he comes back from his closet after refilling his heroine supply and then reads us badmouthing him.
“I thought you guys loved me…
BUT YOU BETRAYED ME!”
Prepare to get some doll heads in the mail.
Hey Creepy McCreeperson, we DO love you! You’re our number one fan… laces out.. LACES OUT!
Don’t worry, he won’t go after you. He’ll probably go after me since you’re more marketable, and the show would money if they got rid of you.
The execs will probably decide to bring me back in a crappy plot twist two seasons later.
OH! I’VE GOT IT!
They’ll have a flashback episode in season 6 where they clearly show the stalker shooting and killing me, and the police taking him away.
Then they’ll do an episode in season 9, after the fans complain that I died, where the stalker escapes from prison to go after you, and at the end of the episode you’re sitting at home having a fun time chatting online with whatever character they got to replace me, and then the camera will zoom out, into the moonlit backyard, out to a tree, and sitting in that tree is a man in a hooded sweatshirt, holding binoculars.
Then the camera abruptly cuts to his face, and he lowers the binoculars, and you see him…
AND IT’S REALLY ME!
So evidently I shot myself in an out of body experience.
The fans will be outraged.
Brilliant! Brilliant I say!
Although now Creepy McCreeperson will leak the plot twists to the media before the launching of season 9, but after filming…
I’m confused. Am I creepy McCreeperson or is he my clone or twin or out of body representation or split personality or what?
I guess I’m technically him, since they decided to retcon the flashback episode.
He is a different person, but once you kill him, as he attempts to kill you, you assume his identity.
So I BECAME him!
…why?
All his clothes fit?
Eh, good enough. I don’t like to do laundry.
But why am I stalking you and the new blogger who replaced me if I have no memory of my past life as Sertimer, rather than Creepy McCreeperson?
Electronically implanted memories.
Maybe the government did it…
AND SANTA IS IN ON IT!
Boom.
Season 9 finale, right there.
With dancing and singing overly groomed gay elves??? PLEASE!????
No. Absolutely not.
The most I can allow is a character getting tased and spazzing out in a way that looks like dancing.
That would work… It’s your whole cop thing rearing it’s head.
By the way… If you google ‘Sertimer Zodo” all 403 comments you left here are what pop up on google… fair warning…
Oh damn… well, it’s not as if all this stuff (I’ve surmised it all too often) could possibly lower my reputation passed rock bottom.
And there is no bad publicity. Look at Joe Biden.
The penchant for He-Man may…
I WAS imitating a stereotypical black woman when I said that about him.
That doesn’t get you a “Coming out!” article on Yahoo!, it gets you a bunch of angry news anchors on Fox.
LOL
Sure.. Suuuuuuuuure you were…
Are you insinuating somethin’ ’bout me?
I hate that!
I will slap you upside the ‘ead, you hear me?
I’m sorry, Fox News! It just pours out of me!
It’s okay princess…. When is your Quinceañera?
Wait, I’m a fifteen year old girl now?
Hot diggity, I thought I still had to be in preschool. I hate having to put those damn square pegs in those useless round holes, it steams my cabbage, I’ll tell you ha-what.
That got away from me.
lil bit…
Hey, you’re the one who sprung that out of nowhere. I had to google it, it momentarily drained me of my powers…
AHA! Your kryptonite is revealed!
But that’s only green kryptonite. Wouldn’t it be more useful to identify my silver kryptonite, which would make me go crazy?
Wait a second… why were you googling my name?
Are you stalking me?
OH MAN! SEASON 10 FINALE! YOU’RE REALLY CREEPY McCREEPERSON’S SISTER AND YOU’RE OUT TO AVENGE HIM!
NO ONE puts baby in the corner… NO ONE!
What if we put Baby slightly to the side of the corner, would that be work?
an askew baby?? What is wrong with you?
Look, take it up with the choreographer, I’m just the guy who fixes the broken light bulbs on stage.
Sheesh…
Nobody puts an askew baby near a corner.. NOBODY!!!
This was the moment that the light repairman realized that the crazed llama in flash pants was slowly going insane.
Along with her choreographer, probably.
Do my pants accomodate all four legs? If so, what KMart did you find them at?
They were the last pair available at the last store in our town.
Of course, they were lying on the floor, a victim of a recent tide of Mexicans.
Little pound cake Mexicans?
Don’t make me sing another round of “That’s Racist!”.
The first one really took all the wit I had.
I won’t make you. Rest up a bit, I am sure you will need the energy later down the conversation road.
I should have gone to sleep three hours ago, but I’m just not tire
nhjnbmvcbnm,.kmnjbvgfcjhkkkkkkkkkkui nmb jkhiu87you6t5r
Sorry, I blacked out again.
Go to sleep man… I can entertain myself by weaving miniature wigs for your pound cake babies…
That’s cute and creepy at the same time. Bravo, madame, bravo.
I fear I must take your advice, finally going to sleep.
I had other ideas for this comment, but I just don’t have the energy. I wanted to see what the sun looked like, but I guess I was too late…
This isn’t that late for me, I just got up early. The internet was calling me from my sleeping place.
Good Night. 🙂
And in my completely interesting life, I took a few minutes out to peruse the comments on this post. Nothing is in the correct order, which would annoy anyone trying to read it and CMcC in his eternal quest to thwart our plot to take over the universe. However, somehow it all still made perfect sense. Not sure what that says about me though.
You’re disorganized and possibly deeply mentally disturbed.
You’re just now figuring out the latter? Don’t you know me at all?
You seemed okay to me. Hold on, I forgot to paint on Toby’s face…
I think I’ll use United Nations Blue this time…
There is something angelic in a face painted on in UN blue.
And something slightly untrustworthy.
Well, no backing out now. I guess I should have used navy i
Still learning to type on an iPad… It’s not going well…
Are you using the finger attached to your top lip? That could be the problem.
No, I’m using my thumbs.
The ones on my back.
and wondering how quickly you googled your own name just to find out I was totally messing with you? LOL
HA! Jokes on you! I’m not thoughtful or mature enough to realize that you were messing with me!
I forgot what kind of immature cyborobonimal I was dealing with.
I knew I’d win.
You have been genetically modified longer than I, it was destiny.
But the underdog (llama) always wins in the end…
perhaps…only time will tell
Damn it, time! spill the beans!
Time is a dramatic one…
So many dramatic pauses.
Like that one.
and that one..
That one scared me a little.
It made me reflect on who I’ve become.
But then I realized I’m a sexy stallion.
Now I’m happy.
It’s a government conspiracy, man.
We’ve gotta stick it to the man, man. Gotta beat that man at his own manly game, man. Man, this whole man thing is giving one a real head trip, man. Man.
Duuuuude
Deeeeeeeeuuuuuuuuddddduuuuuuuh
That’s way too much weed for this conspiracy theorist, man
But I did know OF it. Should count for something… Something small granted, but something. Hahaha
My whole world is still pretty crushed- or at least, dented and stomped on.
Darn auto correct. I had typed, “Baldrick is by far my favorite character!”
Oh! Of course! Yes, of course auto correct changed a bunch of your comments retroactively!
Of course.
World repaired.
Darn iPhone.
Yeah…
But my whole world is still partially crushed because Santa didn’t really conquer the martians.
Some are sweatshop employees. That counts for a small something also.
My whole childhood I thought “Man, Santa conquered the martians! He’s so cool!”
But then I found out the horrible truth…
Plus there was this whole conspiracy.
For me it was finding out the truth about the Easter Lizard.
Or the Saint Patrick’s Day Troll. Or the Valentine’s Day Corehound.
Or the Independence Day Unicorn.
I think the one that devastated me the most was the Labor Day leprous gnome of sorrow.
Wait. He ISN’T real?!?
No, he is real.
He’s just into some really freaky stuff…
Flamenco.
I thought he only dabbled in Salsa. Disappointing.
He was also found in a meth lab, but whatever.
Flamenco… weirdo.
Doesn’t he realize the ramifications that will have on his teeth? The full contact flamenco.
I didn’t need to read that.
Doge? I read that as “dogs”. Ugh
You haven’t heard of Doge, have you?
Much knowledge.
Very twitter.
Such doge.
*blink* *blink* *blink*
*smile and nod*
Very blink.
Much nod.
Such starting to get tired of talking like this now.
Hahaha
Such don’t want to talk like this.
Very please release me now
Much doge you bastard this isn’t funny anymore
Be gone with your speech.
Very you can’t stop it
Much it’ll take over the world
Such this is the end of humanity
Internet Explorer and iPad shouldn’t even be used in the same decade, much less sentence. Hahahaha
Internet Explorer and iPad in a same sentence illustrate the problems with Microsoft and the success of Apple.
Though Internet Explorer shouldn’t be mentioned in any sentence, ever. At all.
My point exactly. Haha
I suppose the cheapness of Explorer and the high cost, high quality of Apple are also illustrated both in that sentence and in the great war between the Macs and the PCs, beginning with the siege of Bill Gates’s planet and ending with the destruction of the universe.
That was an inside joke. To me. And only me.
You know.., he won a pair of garage door once in a charity golf game.
There is more to that story, but it has been a long time since I told it… And it is 5 am, so that is all I have for you right now.
Good morning, BTW seems like just yesterday we spoke. 🙂
It’s the same day for me.
Sleep is for the weak.
Or llamas.
Weak llamas. Who need coffee. Two cups. I’m wild like that.
Caffeine never gave me much of a boost. My parents hardly ever gave me coffee since “I’d be bouncing off the walls all night”, but the truth is that anything from tea to Red Bull lacks the ability to give me wings.
That genetic experiment did, though.
Are they large wings that can do some good, but can be awkward and cumbersome or are they small dainty wings that while looking good really offer no real benefit?
Here’s a picture of me after the surgery hanging out in my friend’s club (you might wanna zoom in a little)…
https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQk-RMnUn1B8aF6WLIrIDxXqpsul04pAONK6D4KWu4XkcIlFWJmZQ
*Somebody Save Me plays in the background*
Your friend must have a country club. It’s quite fancy. All the wood work and all.
Have you seen Smallville?
I’ve griped and praised it most of 2013, I don’t see why 2014 has to be different.
If it is on TV I probably haven’t see it recently. I have a television. It just has a blue screen which says, “you ain’t got no channels”. Sometimes I turn the blue screen on so the little llamas can chase the words around the screen like a cat with a laser pointer. Other times just for the fun blue ambiance it can bring to a dark room.
Man, it seems like nobody even knows about Smallville but me… It was on from 2002 to 2010, for goodness sakes, you’d think somebody else would’ve seen it.
It’s about Superman when he was a kid. It has five great seasons, three okay ones, and one which I wish I could scrub from my memory.
I know what it is. Superman as a kid or teen or something along those lines, right?
And I just realized you just said that up there. More coffee STAT!!!
Superman is an awkward teenager who learns to be a dashing superhero who kicks the crap out of Lex Luthor.
Also, Jor El is a jerk.
All dashing superheroes should have to go through the awkward teen years. It’s only fair.
I went through the dashing teen years and then the awkward superhero phase.
That’s why they call me Lemur Man.
I just stay in the perpetually awkward phase. It’s okay though. I’m used to it.
I’m not awkward, myself. I’m too tired to be awkward.
Sleep?
It’s no vicious lottery, but does have it’s own perks.
Like skipping night time, when all the monsters come out.
It’s no longer night.
The sun hasn’t risen here.
I suppose it’s kind of hard to tell hundreds of feet below the surface of the earth, though, but that geothermic generator isn’t going to crank itself.
West coast. Underground.
Middle coast. Farther underground.
I’m south coast. Above ground.
I’m working on lowering myself into the exact center of the earth’s core so I never have to list my location on any site signup sheet.
Heard it’s hot down there.
I have a feeling that it’s actually going to be ice, or maybe a giant hollowed out center filled with dinosaurs and magic and wonder for some reason.
Twinkie filling.
There. That is the perfection of that joke.
No further work is needed.
We’re done here, everyone. Good job.
^high five
*
high asterisk
You have turned me into an excessively cynical llama…
Good. You’re growing up…
Jaded and cynical llama… I would put on my big girl pants, but alas, no kmarts…
Llamas probably shouldn’t wear pants anyway.
How about shirts?
That seems slightly less of a horrible idea…
Why don’t you just wear this baseball cap, sport?
What team logo is on it?
Simmlish Llamas.
I will wear that sucker with pride… *Strutting*
You do realize I put a whole lot of gum on the top of that hat?
It helps keep the birds in place when they land.
So now you’ve got a hat stuck to your head with a bunch of birds crapping on you and you’re pleased.
This was a stolen victory…
victory will be mine!!!
Not if it’s bovine!
I have a lion in a holster.. don’t make me use him…
Is it the same lion you fed the jerky to?
Have you heard him wookie-ing?
Yeah… you probably should have given him the regular stuff…
I was hoping to create a super creature!
Instead you got a baby lion with alien asthma and weird hair.
It is a work in progress…
I guess it’ll take a whole lot of progress.
Some of the ugliest babies grow up to be the most gorgeous adults…. I can’t think of any off the top of my head, because I was a stunning baby llama and am a stunning adult llama…
I wasn’t going to reveal my identity, but it seems you need an example…
I was an ugly baby… and I grew into the man I am today…
Fabio.
I thought the hair looked familiar…
I only dyed it blonde for show.
You’re a diva!
No, I’m a divo. Divas a female. Divos are rock bands- but also male divas.
with strange hats… are you sporting the hat?
Darling, my hair is too beaut-iful to cover vith some smeely haht.
It is quite luscious.
It tastes good, too.
*lick*
Mmmm… Fabio’s hair.
Does it either taste or smell like any form of jerky?
It IS jerky, darling.
*Gobble*
Mmmm, spicy.
That is some grade A premium jerky!
Hey, Fabio didn’t give ou permission to lick his hair. Back away.
I didn’t lick. I am not THAT forward. I simply smelled. And sniffed… And lightly touched one strand with the very tip of my lip.
That’s even more forward… this is starting to get like some sort of creepy fan fiction romance novel between Fabio and a llama.
Really? Starting? This whole conversation makes me think I need to start taking drugs so I can understand it.
It keeps making more sense to me.
It’s the wig smoking.
I haven’t smoked a wig in weeks… nor have I had too much jerky.
Even more frightening.
Duuuuuuude… look at my hands! They’re just all…
Duuuuuuude…
Haha! This llama has to hit the stables. I haven’t been feeling very hot all day and need to rest up. Talk to you later copper!
Goodbye for now, Llama…
This isn’t over.
294 comments on this post. We many need an intervention.
Half of me is glad that we got away from the Fabio/Llama romance novel side of this conversation….
but the other part wonders what might have been…
After the whole goose in the face incident fabio lost his appeal.
Not to llamas, evidently.
To this llama.
You know you love Fabio, deep within your furry llama heart.
I’m a llama. I have to eat some veggies. The meat is considered “un-natural” which I may be an un-natural creature anyhow…
Despite popular belief, I’m (at least mostly) human, and that means I get to choose what does or doesn’t go on my plate. Veggies and their foul kin have no place at my table.
Aye. Wish I were “mostly human”… Mainly for pants shopping. It is so had to find any to fit four legs in a Walmart.
Maybe you should try K-Mart. I’m pretty sure they have sizes for quadrupeds of all species. I know they have turtle necks with an extra sleeve coming out of the back of the neck.
One of those deals where the three fingered Cambodian sweatshop children making mistakes came in handy?
I would try a kmart, but there are none around here. Llama’s don’t drive, for obvious reasons, so I need to catch a ride in the back of someone’s pick-up truck sometime.
I’m surprised people even remember K-Mart anymore. The last one here closed up almost two years ago.
It’s a shame. I would have looked for pants. When I moved back home a while ago they had already all closed up here too.
I’m not surprised they went out of business. There were always screaming hispanic families throwing clothes on the floor whenever I used to visit.
We must have gone to the same one!
I think they hire those families to visit all their locations. Really gives the place that classy air when you have a bunch of eight-year-olds screaming in Spanish while their parents bicker at light speed.
It does add the romantic ambiance of chaos.
They should do an action movie that follows a Spanish family as they decimate a K-Mart. In slow-mo, while O Fortuna plays in the background, we watch a screaming three-year-old throw a Hello Kitty jersey to the floor, her mother grabbing her and her brothers giggling while ransacking a box of Legos. Meanwhile, her father is arguing with someone on his cellphone, shouting while his face turns bright red.
Shoot. I watch that one every time I go to walmart. It is the “new” kmart.
Here the Hispanic community mysteriously disappeared after K-Mart closed. Our Walmarts are actually very diverse melting pots, exhibiting each race and nationality as a bickering family.
My walmart is the same way.
Nobody seems to throw clothes and toys on the floor in Walmart. That seemed to be K-Mart exclusive.
Wherever you live must have fancier walmarts than where I live. Haha
Oh, we do indeed have fancy Walmarts up here in the west-central-east-north-up-down United States. These Walmarts wear gucci and long dresses to the Walmart Ball. They’re the pride of the state, swishing around the floor as their high heels click quietly beneath them.
I used to live there! Just east of the west line of north southville?
Yeah, only up, down, and slightly to the left.
I know exactly where that is! You have the yellowish reddish house with the beigeish grayish trim?
Yea- no, actually, not at all. I have the blueish grayish house with the grayish aquaish trim.
Just around the bend from mine…
Are you sure? Because my house hovers 2,000 feet in the air over a giant crater. I don’t have any neighbors within a ten mile radius- or, at least, I didn’t think I did.
Yep, pretty sure… I live on Levitation Lane…
I think I see you down there. Howdy, neighbor! Want a cream pie?
I feel as though this is a loaded question.
Was that a yes?
Here you go!
*splat*
I knew all those years of throwing pies at children would make my aim exact!
Mmmmmm Chocolate cream!
That’s the chocolate cream? Damn! I meant to throw the horseradish and spinach spectacular!
I guess I’ll have to throw the other one at an old man or something… what a waste…
Veggie eater here, remember…..
Not to be mistaken for a vegan… they are also satan’s tools..
Nobody likes a vegan.
Even vegans don’t like vegans.
That’s probably why so many of them are emo.
LMAO! I can’t even come back with something…
I see vegans come back with things all the time.
Usually their lunches.
I can’t blame them.
They also come back repeatedly from the restroom… all that roughage…
You know, you’d think they’d take the hint from all that vomiting, but apparently eating no animals or animal byproducts at all seems like a really great idea. So much so that they can look past the vomiting, terrible food, and wild mood swings.
I’d like to point out the canine teeth to them… They are certainly there for a reason.
And that reason is delicious steak…
um.. and jerky
And for hunting wild pizzas.
Ah.. the ever elusive wild pizza…
Look! There’s one now!
Oh, the majestic cheese… the pepperoni steaming in the breeze… the red pepper flakes falling softly to the ground…
CHOMP!
Mmmm… tastes better than it looks.
Mushrooms and Olives too…
Olives?! This isn’t what I ordered!
Sorry Copper… You have to pick em off…
Awwwwww man! There’s always some under the cheese that you bite into unsuspectingly…
Those are the very best ones!
No! Because they’re veggies!
You’re in denial again…
Oh damn. Last time I got a crocodile bite on my peg leg.
be careful.. the croc’s like wood…
I suppose that’s why so many pirates wear those ugly plastic shoes…
And have no fear… It’s not a full moon.
Treat your addiction to New Mexico dry jerky. (Have you had it?) It was that bovine caviar that led me to face my addiction squarely: I would have driven backwards 100 miles to get just-one-more-teeny-tiny-little–dry-as-desert scrap. I’ve never admitted this before.
I have not had it. And apparently I shouldn’t even start down that path… I afraid I won’t have the self control to “just stop whenever I want”.
Friends who worked in supermarkets used to give me cases of the expired stuff. Even so, I’d spend eight bucks on just a half ounce of premium heavily peppered jerky; the kind you can read a newspaper through.
But just when I thought I had kicked the habit, the bastards came up with Bacon Jerky!!!! AAAGGGHHHH!!
Bacon jerky? What kind of glorious union of bacon and jerky is this?!?
Here is a link to my favorite brand: http://www.rei.com/product/857455/oberto-all-natural-bacon-jerky,-applewood-smoked?preferredSku=8574550001&cm_mmc=cse_PLA-_-pla-_-product-_-8574550001&mr:trackingCode=7773E269-3D88-E211-BA78-001B21631C34&mr:referralID=NA&mr:device=t&mr:adType=pla&mr:ad=20834121280&mr:keyword=&mr:match=&mr:filter=39033331600&msid=rzVGLY4x_dt%7Cpcrid%7C20834121280%7C&%7Bcopy:s_kwcid%7D
If you delete it, its okay. Just thought you should know…
No reason to delete! Thanks for sharing, unless it becomes an issue. Then you are strictly an enabler.
I love helping others in their dependencies. I even enable myself, It is fortunate that I was never an MD. I’d be in prison for life for enabling all those Oxycontin addicts.
Hmmm wondering if I should invent a shopping addiction right now?
Greetings from South Africa.
Thanks for a great blog. As soon as I saw the word Jerky, I knew I was in good company. Although we don’t have actual jerky in South Africa (we’re behind in most things) the early settlers fed themselves on a meat product which appears to be vaguely similar. I’m rather pleased that no 12 step program exists to ‘help’ us with our dependancy as I am persuaded that many of us would simply pine away and die for the lack of it.
We call the South African version of the stuff – “biltong”.
By the looks of it, the process is similar to jerky, i.e. you catch and dispatch the desired animal (in as humane a manner as possible – apeasing the Green Peace bods who, I’m sure do a great job), cut it up into meaty strips, spice it and let it hang to dry – somewhere where the cat won’t get at it…. After a time, one brings it down from its drying place and, with orgasmic expressions of delight on the face, munches away happily – keeping out of mischief and generally being a credit to the human race.
In the early years, southern Africa was pretty much wall-to-wall animals. It was thus a heck of a lot easier and quicker to shoot a cow/buck/ostrich/buffalo than it was to cultivate a crop of something vegetarian. It’s logical to conclude that biltong was even more popular then than it is today.
You will find biltong pretty much everywhere in southern Africa where snacks are consumed (parties, sports matches, corporate events – although it is considered bad taste to bring a lump to a funeral). Mass produced biltong is available in most shops, but the really good stuff is manufactured by farmers, hunters, ‘real’ butchers and enthusiasts such as yours truly.
We are not only manufacturers of the stuff, but pushers as well – adopting such heartless tactics as offering small free samples to victims to seduce the taste buds and get them addicted…. but that’s capitalism for you. So if you ever visit sunny South Africa and you’re feeling a bit lost, just utter the word ‘biltong’ to the nearest person and he or she will come over all friendly like and point you in the direction of your nearest fix.
Well, if I haven’t bored you into a coma, and if you’d like a recipe – pop over to the blog and get it here – free 🙂
http://ffchips.wordpress.com/2010/07/20/outstanding-biltong-recipe-tried-and-tested/
Yes, biltong is the same thing! And it is delicious love! The small joints, hunters, butchers and the like are definitely the “in” for getting the best jerky. You know I was desperate for a quick fix last night when I hit up my big box store for some over the counter mass produced “quick fix” replacement.
And your comment only increased my insatiable appetite for jerky…
Brilliant – always happy to help a fellow addict….
A visit to that part of the world has just been moved up my ‘to do’ list.
We definitely have our fair share of strange critters here in Texas! You should come try some… LOL
Well… Now I fell bad about the “sounds positifically fantastic” comment…
Though I cheered right up again when my iPad recognized “fantastic”.
LMAO It’s okay.. I have learned to laugh at the absurdity that has taken over my life. One of those, “Holy crap this can’t be real” type things.
Oh well, even in the worst times you can find in yourself a strength you never knew you had.
In my case, it was those old memories, the ones you can fix in your mind in near perfect detail.
I’m remembering some of them now…
Though there’re way more flying robots and aliens in them than I think was actually realistic.
I have found there to not usually be more than a half dozen each, robots and aliens, in real life.
And thanks.. You’re a weird, but good guy, to my estimation.
And you’re a good jerky addict llama, to mine.
Live long and prosper.
I can’t make an entire comment serious, profound, or emotionally meaningful. I’m contractually obligated.
Seriously, though, you’re the friendliest person I’ve met in a long time. Always be as open and welcoming and you’ll find more friends than enemies.
I am me.. I always will be. 🙂
And I totally made the ‘live long and prosper” hand sign subconsciously when I read that. I am a serious nerd.
I figure anyone that I can talk this much nonsense with for as long as we have has just enough neuron misfiring in his head to be someone I can get along with.
And by nonsense, I of course, mean complete and total logical meanderings of the mind.