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Hello, how are you? Me, I'm kind of busy. Because I'm preparing for WAR. Regular readers of this blog already know that I've been living on the street since Wednesday afternoon, hanging out with a bunch of other Harry Potter fans in front of the bookstore waiting for the final book in the series—which is going on sale tonight at midnight! SO EXCITING. Now, I'll admit I didn't give two poots (PMF) about Harry Potter originally, but since I've been out here with some of the Potterphiles, I've become quite a fan myself! (Although it's been brought to my attention that my wizard outfit looks NOTHING like Dumbledore, and Karen's [that's my lamb] robot character doesn't even appear in the Potter books—but they like us anyway! But seriously… why doesn't Harry Potter have a robot character? They fly around on broomsticks, for the love of Pete. How hard would it be to add a robot?)
Aaaaannnyyyywaaayyyy, I'm really learning a lot of the Potter lingo since I've been out here, like, "muggle," "quidditch," "sorting hat," and "horcruxes." (PMF.) Plus I've been sharing some of my own lingo with the Potter fans as well, such as, "Chick-o-stick," "ninja," "high five!" and "poop duck." (PMF.) Oh… I haven't explained "poop duck" have I? That's when you fart and blame it on a duck. (PMF! …but it's still funny.)
But after that? Things started getting bad. Just when we were having a lot of fun, guess who walks up with a TV camera crew? REVEREND SPARKLE from the Victory Baptist Church! (Read some of my previous posts if you want to learn more about him, but in a nutshell, he's a tool.)
"There they are!" he yelled while pointing at the line. "There are the worshippers of SATAN!"
"Who's that guy," my new friend Morgana (she's a goth) asked.
"Reverend Sparkle," I said. "He's a tool."
"These Harry Potter books are manuscripts directly from the pen of the prince of lies," Rev. Sparkle yelled at the cameras, "and these poor souls are lost in its Satanic grasp! These books celebrate witchcraft and sorcery—and they are intended for CHILDREN, no less! If you give one whit for your child's immortal soul, you will BURN EVERY LAST COPY OF HARRY POTTER!"
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhh… Cramitupyourbutticus," I said. (PMF. Like I've mentioned before, this guy really brings out the worst in me.)
"WHO SAID THAT," Rev. Sparkle cried, whirling around.
"Umm… Jesus Christ," I said. "Remember me?"
"Ohhh… I remember YOU alright! And I'm not the least bit surprised you're here, since you TRIED TO MUG ME!"
(In actuality, I didn't try to mug him—but I did try to get him to give me $500 for an iPhone. Long story.)
"Tell you what, Reverend," I said. "I'm Jesus Christ, so SUPPOSEDLY what I say goes, right? And I say these Harry Potter books are perfectly okay, and you're acting like a tool. So why don't you just run back to your little fairy tale church, and steal some more money from little old ladies?"
That's when everyone on the street cheered. Really loud. And that didn't make the Reverend happy.
"NO ONE talks to me like that," he blustered. "I am a child of Christ, and YOU are a charlatan, a miscreant, a BLASPHEMER…"
"Yeaaaahhhh, and you've been eating ONIONS."
"That's the last time you cross me, Satanist," he said a little too quietly. "I'm going away for the moment. But I'll be back—and before midnight tonight. And when I return, I won't be alone. NO ONE will be getting these filthy books, and I'm going to make it a my personal goal to GET YOU."
"And I'm going to make it MY personal goal to get YOU… a basket of flowers."
"MMMFFF!" he squealed and stormed off.
"YAY, JESUS!" everyone cried. But I'm not very happy. I know Rev. Sparkle is serious about returning and doing something to mess up everybody's fun—and as long as I'm stuck here in line, I can't do anything to stop him. Yet… I can't get out of line! I've been waiting here three days for a book I originally didn't care about, but now care about quite a lot! But what we have here is a war—and these people are looking for me to lead them.
Lucky for them… I have a plan.
Greetings muggles! How are you? Fine, I trust! Me, I'm having a BLAST living out on the street in front of the bookstore, waiting for the new Harry Potter book to come out! BTW, I'd like to apologize for yesterday's technical difficulties, and for Jeremy (he's my shirtless football playing friend) posting that kind of (ahem) sexy (PMF!) picture on my blog. I just wanted him to let you know I was okay, not get you hot. So… sorry. He also apologized for putting up that picture, saying, "I was feeling kind of bloated when that photo was taken—I'll look for a skinnier one." Yeah, Jeremy. WHATEVER.
Anyhoozy, back to ME: I have been sitting here in line since Wednesday afternoon, and haven't slept a wink! Happily, I have sparkling conversation from my new street friends to keep me awake, and a little help from this AWESOME drink called "Red Bull." Ever heard of it? I've had seventeen of them since yesterday, and though my heart is making a kind of funny bumpity-BUMP-bummmmmmp -BUMPITY- bump-bump- bummmmmp sound, I feel wicked alert.
Otherwise, not much has happened, except four things of note:
1) My wizard costume kind of smells bad when it gets wet.
2) People driving by in cars tend to tease a wet wizard.
3) Maybe I should've brought a raincoat, or maybe some food other than Lamb Chow (that's for Karen). (Oh. That's my lamb.)
And 4) It's generally not a good idea to reveal how a very popular book is going to end, before it comes out.
See, I didn't get to read your comments yesterday warning not to reveal the ending, or I would've known that. For those just joining us, I'm not a big Harry Potter fan, so in order to "fit in" with the people outside the bookstore I read up on on the "spoilers" from the new book. When I announced that I knew which major character would die, everyone kind of flipped out; putting their fingers in their ears, singing really loudly, putting some kind of weird curse on me that sounded like "SHUTUPICUS!", and one lady dressed as a British schoolgirl got so upset, she ran into traffic and almost got hit by a car.
These guys take this Harry Potter stuff seriously!
Anyway, they got really mad, and accused me of being a "muggle-phobe" or something like that, and then started insulting my wizard costume, claiming, "You don't look anything like Dumbell Door, and your lamb doesn't look anything like Blobby."
"Well, first of all," I said, "Karen is dressed as a robot, so why should he be blobby?"
"It's DOBBY!" they screamed entirely too loud. "He's a house elf!"
"No, she's not," I countered. "She's a robot!"
"THERE ARE NO ROBOTS IN HARRY POTTER!" they continued to yell.
"FINE," I yelled back. "Why don't you call the young adult fiction police, and lock me up? Look, I don't know anything about Harry Potter, okay? Standing in line with you guys just looked like fun, and I wanted to meet some new friends!"
Well, that outburst calmed things down a bit, and a girl dressed as a ghost who apparently lives in a toilet, or something (?) came over and let me borrow "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" so I could get caught up.
So anyway, that's what I've been doing. Reading a poop-ton of Harry Potter. (PMF.) And guess what? I'm enjoying it so much, I'm already half-way through "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban" (that Sirius Black guy sounds scary!).
And even though I know how the entire series supposedly ends, the books are still really exciting—and who knows? Maybe those internet spoiler people are wrong. Or better yet? Maybe I'll come up with some kind of dis-remembering spell so I won't remember how it all ends!
"DISREMEMBERICUS!"
Hmmf. Well that didn't work.
Ummmm… hey. What's up, yo. Ummmmmmm… oh, yeah. Jesus isn't around right now. This is his friend Jeremy? From the high school football team? The one who doesn't wear a shirt? Yeah, that's me. Anyway, Jesus isn't around right now because he's waiting in line for some kind of baby book about a magician or something… I don't know. And he's trying to figure out how to get wifi while he waits in line. So he wanted me to write you this quick note so you wouldn't worry or nothing. He said he'd figure it out by tomorrow, and he'll talk to you then. Want to see a picture of me without my shirt on? Cool. Here you go.
WHOOOOOO! HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL! WHOOOOOO!
See ya.
Hey! How are you? I'm having FUN! You know why? Because starting tomorrow, I'm going to sleep on the street for at least 72 hours! Now, that may not initially sound all that fun to many of you, but believe me—its WAY fun when you're dressed as a magical wizard!
As you may or may not have heard, the final Harry Potter book is coming out this Friday at midnight. And that means tons of Potter fans will be camping out all week long so they can be first in line for the new book! Now, personally, I'm not all that interested in Harry Potter. (Is it okay for me to say that?) It's not that I think he's dumb or that it's a baby book or anything. I'm just not really into young adult fantasy fiction. As you know, I love military techno thrillers! YEAH! BANG! BANG! POW! POW! POW! Exciting.
Anywhosis, even though I'm not a big Harry Potter fan and I've only read like maybe half of one of the books—I can't remember which one… I think it had a spider in it?—I'm going to dress up like a magical wizard and camp out with all the Harry Potter freaks. Why? Because I like to make friends!
So here's my plan: A) I will dress up like a magical wizard. Harry Potter has magical wizards in it, right? B) Karen (that's my lamb) will dress up as a magical robot. Harry Potter has magical robots, right? And C) since the entire plot of the new Harry Potter book was leaked on the internet today, I'm going to learn all about it, and share it with all my new friends so I'll have something to talk with them about. They'll be super impressed with my knowledge!
Well, gotta make my cone hat, and color my beard white. See ya tomorrow! (Also, I'm glueing pieces of an old transistor radio onto Karen's back. So cute!)
How are you feeling? Swell I hope. My feelings are rollercoaster-y. As you may have surmised from my last post, I was on the verge of cancelling my kissing date with Trudy (she's that bank teller I like?) because Damien (my mortal enemy and Trudy's ex) warned me that he implanted some nano robots in her mouth that would knock my teeth out and give me AIDS. Oh. And they would make all future hot dogs taste like pee. Anyweird, I decided NOT to cancel the date because "Jesus Christ always keeps his promises." (While catchy, that tagline can be difficult to live by at times. Why didn't I come up with a tagline like, "You have a friend in the diamond business"?) However, while I wasn't going to cancel the date, that did NOT mean I was going to kiss Trudy on the mouth and risk a life of illness, and dislike of hot dogs. And gumming those hot dogs. Instead of riding our bikes back to her house, where we would eat Nutty Buddies on her stoop, I would feign some sort of emergency, and dash away into the night.
As always, my plan neglected to go as planned.
First of all, apparently I wore too much Axe Body Spray, and the managers kicked Trudy and I out of the theater. Secondly, Trudy's bike tire had a flat, and I had to give her a ride home on my handlebars. Thirdly, it was hot, so Trudy and I broke into a motel pool for a late night swim. Fourthly, she was all wet and pretty, and looking into my eyes, and I started feeling all woozy in my head, and our lips got closer and closer until I suddenly came to my senses and screamed, "NANO ROBOTS!" And fifthly, I swam away as fast as I could.
"Oh, for the love of… what NOW?" Trudy exclaimed.
"Fact or fiction: You have nano robots in your mouth."
"Ummm… I believe that would be fiction," she said. "What in the world are you talking about?"
"Someone informed me that you and I shouldn't kiss because you have nano robots in your mouth that would disintegrate my teeth, make hot dogs taste like urine… and… and… that's kind of ridiculous, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Trudy said. "It kind of is. And that 'someone' you're talking about is Damien, isn't it?"
"Yup."
"Is that also why you stink of Axe Body Spray?"
"Yup."
"Swim back over here," she said.
I did.
"Look," she said. "I don't know what's going to happen with you and me. Maybe we'll date, maybe we'll stay friends, but I'm only going to say this once. Damien was a mistake—and maybe I dated him because I thought you never would like me. But things are different now. I'm fine with the way things are between you and me. Okay? That means if we need to take things slow, then we…"
That's when I kissed her. On the mouth.
It was nice, and confusing, and exciting, and I don't know what's going to happen with me and Trudy—but I'll always remember the two of us in that pool. Her looking so pretty and me kissing her. On the mouth.
And not a single nano robot got in.
(I know, because I ate a hot dog when I got home.)
HELLO. Are you good? Me, I'm CONCERNED. So this afternoon I was getting ready for my big date with Trudy (she's a bank teller!) tonight in which I plan to kiss her hard… on the mouth! I gargled for 37 minutes with Listerene, ate 29 tins of Altoids, and was on my third stick of Old Spice deodorant when there was a knock on my door.
DAMIEN.
Regular readers of this blog know that Damien is my arch-nemesis and dated Trudy for a while, until she watched me play on the high school football team and got appropriately bamboozled. Anyway, he came to my door:
"Damien! What are YOU doing here?" I asked.
"Well, first of all I should ask if any of those shirtless high school football players are around. I really didn't appreciate being thrown into that dumpster."
"Well…" I said, "I didn't appreciate you going far out of your way to screw up my life—so why don't you cry me a river, build a bridge, and get over it?"
Snap.
"Look, hippie," he said, getting all red in the face. "I'll get to the point. I don't want you kissing Trudy on your date tonight."
WHAAAAA???
"How did you know I was planning on kissing Trudy?"
"I read it on your stupid blog, you idiot."
"Oh…. Well, so what?" I said. "Trudy doesn't like you anymore, in case you didn't get the memo. She likes ME."
"Well, I see that as a temporary arrangement. Sooner or later she'll realize that she wants a man—not a 2000-year-old hobo with holes in his hands."
"They're in my wrists, jerk. PMF."
"Whatever. If you know what's good for you, tonight you'll keep your big stupid lips to yourself."
"Or what?"
"Or you're really, really, really going to regret it," he said with a surprising amount of menace in his voice.
"Or… WHAT?" I responded.
"Okay. Fine. I wasn't going to tell you this, and if you say anything about it to Trudy, I'll deny it. Biological nano bots."
What?
"Biological nano robots," he said. "Teeny tiny cybernetic devices which I planted in Trudy's mouth, and that can only be activated by me. If you kiss Trudy, I will bring my creatures to life, and order them to infiltrate your mouth, where they will cause an insurmountable amount of damage."
"What kind of damage?"
"First… they make all your teeth fall out. Then they'll screw around with your taste buds, making any hot dog you eat taste like pee-pee. Oh, yeah. Then they'll give you AIDS."
"Goodbye, Damien," I said, and slammed the door in his face.
I'll admit he almost had me. But c'mon! What kind of mini-robot can make a hot dog taste like pee? I mean… really.
On the other hand… he does have an uncle who is nano robotic biologist at Harvard. And Damien does have ties to the government, and certain black ops military units. And he knows I'm scared of AIDS. Oh, wow… WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? I was totally going to kiss Trudy on the mouth, but there's no way I'm going to give up hot dogs to do it! And I need my teeth! And I don't need AIDS! My perfect plan is falling apart!! Maybe I can just stick my finger in her mouth again. No… the nano bots will enter through my fingernail! And what if she tries to kiss me? I'll have to shove my Nutty Buddy into her mouth to defend myself!
That's it. I'M CANCELLING THE DATE. I like Trudy and everything, but living the rest of my life with AIDS, no teeth and the perpetual taste of urine in my mouth is just not worth it!
DARN YOU, DAMIEN! IF YOU'RE READING THIS… WELL… I'M GOING TO INVENT A NANO ROBOT THAT'LL MAKE YOUR ICE CREAM TASTE LIKE POOPY!
(PMF!)
SO THERE!!!
(sob.)
Hey! How are you? Fine, I hope. Me, I think I may want to consider thinking about possibly kissing Trudy. She's a bank teller, btw, and as friends we have had a long, sometimes tumultuous, but mostly fun relationship. However, now I am making the consideration of taking the "next step." Which is kissing her. ON THE MOUTH.
EEEEEE!!! I know. It's very exciting. After the whole Damien debacle (please see the thousands of previous posts on the subject of that jerk), Trudy and I decided to "take things slow" and see "where things went." Well, I've been thinking about it, and the "things" are definitely my lips, and the "went" is gonna be "onto her lips." Or at least I think I want to. I'M SCARED. I've kissed girls before and stuff, but I haven't kissed girls in a long time, and I'm pretty nervous about it. I'm pretty afraid that I don't quite remember how. However, I have been practicing a bit with help from a pair of fake lips I cleverly carved from a banana. I think I'm kissing too hard, though, because all I got was face full of banana.
Anywhoops, I'm considering kissing Trudy tomorrow night at the denoument of our movie date. Denoument means "end" by the way. Did you know that? It's a good word to use when you want to fool people into thinking you're smart. But back to Trudy. This is how I plan to kiss her: After tomorrow night's movie show, we will ride our bikes back to her house. We will park the bikes and each eat a Nutty Buddy on her stoop. Then I will say, "Oh, Trudy, apparently you have some Nutty Buddy byproduct on your lip. Here, let me retrieve it for you." Then as I brush the imaginary byproduct away, I will pause… and stare deeply into her eyes for exactly nine seconds. And then she will say, "Oh, Jesus!" at which point I will sweep her downward into one of those big dips you see in the old-timey movies, and then dive bomb my lips into hers. Naturally, I'll have to keep a very tight grip on her spine, because she will most likely swoon. After kissing her hard on the mouth for exactly 23 seconds, I'll sweep her back into an upright position, jump on my bike and say "See ya later, toots!" before speeding off into the night.
WELL? WHAT DO YOU THINK? Que romantique, eh? If there was any doubt in her mind that my lips are two molten pillows of fire, and that I'm 89 times the man Damien is, it will be dispelled when I swing the sledgehammer of my mouth into hers! Now if you'll excuse me, I must start getting ready for my date. That case of Altoids isn't going to eat itself.
