If you happened to be on fb two weeks ago, your news feed may have suffered an overload from one of my statuses (sorry Ian!). If you missed all the fun though, please enjoy the edited, picture version here (no, I am not going to subject myself to retyping all 83 comments, you'll just have to go back to the status if you want the whole story). Catherine and I created a delightfully fictitious bar, where men are gentleman: they give you their seat and they buy you a drink. More importantly, they are all gorgeous and famous and rich and heroic. (Is that too much to ask for?) In the beginning, I said Archie Goodwin should be there. No sooner had I suggested this than Catherine claimed him in a most selfish manner, stating: "I get him. Because I knew about him first and because h is long standing girlfriend was a blonde so therefore he'll pick me anyways." ... First I countered with: " GAH. FINE. be that way. but you know Archie had brunettes on the sid...
This is the story of Goldilocks. And three absent bears. And a very big bathtub. So you all know the beginning of the story... The three bears, Momma, Papa, and Baby, go for a morning stroll down the path to the right, while waiting for their porridge to cool. And since they were very honest, trusting bears, they left their front door unlocked. Meanwhile, up the other side of the road, a little girl came traipsing along. And since she was a very rude little girl, upon seeing a door just her size, she walked right in, without so much as a knock! And since she was very dusty, and a little grubby, and feeling just generally sticky after wandering so far from her house that morning, she decided to use the bathroom to wash her face. When she found the bathroom, however, there was a marvelously grand and enormous bathtub, with fancy jets, a sleek faucet, and a full bottle of bubbles sitting right there on the edge of the tub! It was too much...
This is the Tale of Mr. Stinkerbutt, his sudden transformation into the awful Gigas Mus, and his untimely demise. Once upon a time, in a charming townehouse situated at the outskirts of a large county, there lived four beautiful damsels called Erin, Gina, Meg and Me -- and one squatter called Mr. Stinkerbutt. For the first few months that the girls occupied the house, they were blissfully unaware of Mr. Stinkerbutt's presence. Alas such ignorance could not last forever! One chilly morning in winter, Meghan discovered she was unable to eat her last bagel for breakfast, because Someone Else had devoured it betwixt dusk and dawn, leaving only crumbs in the bag in the closet. This was our very first introduction to that gluttonous, pilfering soul, Mr. Stinkerbutt. Shortly thereafter, he made a second attack against our closet. He seemed to favour Meg's shelf, shunning the dried goods on every other shelf, and nommed a giant hole into her loaf of bread. Me...
Indian ink?
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