Dec. 1st, 2005 @ 12:31 pm
If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we don't speak often) please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE.
When you're finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON'T ACTUALLY remember about you!
Hey, yeah! There was that one time when I flew over to visit you and you were giving me this great tour of the city and all the hot spots in town and fun things to do when these great, gigantic monster robots came flying out of nowhere! I thought maybe this was just normal for Spain, but no one else on the street seemed okay with it, so that was a big clue there that maybe things weren't right. But it turned out okay because you had this even bigger mech bot that you'd made in your free time so we climbed into that and started taking on the other robots. Turned out that they were from Canada, right? I forget what they were looking for, though. Jamón serrano? Something like that. I thought that was a little strange, but you helped them out and then booted them out and sent them home. That was fun. I've got to start saving money so I can come visit again.
Those robots are always trying to steal our "jamon"...
But, then again, we steal their bacon... :P
On a sunny day in June, we trekked up Mt. Jefferson and had scones and biscuits for lunch. On the way down, you told me tales of your far off homeland. At the end of the day, we discussed the future of undersea exploration before going our separate ways.
I only went there cause you said there'd be food...
You looked scared when you climbed up the construction platform. Then you saw me having a profound talk with that huge gorilla. He was still holding one of the barrels in his hand. Your then-girlfriend was doing a good job untying herself.
- Now, the right method to open these barrels is to make a small hole in the other end. Try your smallest finger, like this.
And the gorilla put a hole in the barrel and the dark molasses begun to flow. He quickly lifted it and began to drink. I turned, noticed you and helped you up.
- Any bruises? Did you really climb all the way up?
- I had to jump a lot, you said. - Hit my head with an overhead beam many times.
- Ouch. Actually, it shows. Now, you have to help me get the young lady down before the simian runs out of molasses barrels.
- Can I carry her?
- Ask her.
In the end we had to do it in turns.
Yeah, but when he ran out of molasses he started chucking those barrels at us!
And somehow some caught on fire and they seemed to chase us around!
My girlfriend keep nagging me, becuase she forgot her umbrella and purse around there and refused to leave without them!
Holy hell, man, I have no idea how we kept running down the street. It wasn't that the bulls were chasing us per se, it was the fact that they were doing so on two hooves while packing enough firepower to make the French Foreign Legion weep. I think it was your idea to head up the fire escapes. They could heft machineguns and rocketlaunchers, but they couldn't climb a ladder. Go figure.
Funny, but every hamburger I've had since then has filled me with this sense of smug satisfaction.
Bah, that's pretty common in Spain, unless they're carrying flamethrowers, that is...
They end up BBQing themselves somehow... :P
There was this crazy barbecue party we went to. We ate so much ribs that evening that we passed out. Someone's gotta eat all that.
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