FOB July 13
In order to more accurately record the events at this weekly FOB meeting, and in order to gather data from a wider variety of FOBsters, we here at the Beareau of Better Blog Posts (also known as the BBBP) here present the weekly meeting of the FOB, a la carte:
Tolkien Boy: At 7:50 pm, twenty minutes after the meeting had officially started, I discovered to my shock and pain that the noodle dish that I had thought I had devoured on Monday was, in fact, completely undevoured, and was sitting under a dishcover on a long-unused burner coil, and to boot was flowering with a nice toupee of green-gray mold. Panicked that my guests should witness this shameful example of bachelor oblige, but mollifed somewhat that not a single fobsoul showed up until at least 8:00 pm, I hastily deposited the offending pasta disaster in the nearest trash receptacle and sprayed copious amounts of carcinogenic air freshener. There's no limit to the extent of neatness that I will go to for the FOB.
editorgirl: Rushed in, feeling guilty, at 8:00, only to find I'm the first one here. After establishing that nothing happened today (for me) and everything happened today (for TB), we stood around awkwardly for a few nanoseconds until we decided on a quick game o' anagrams. TB was getting his trash kicked when Edgy showed up and violated my personal space. . . granted, my personal space is larger than TB's apartment, but still. It was my space.
Master Fob: I am here. It is 8:24. I am the third to arrive, not counting Tolkien Boy who lives here. We are still waiting for Melyngoch, even though her Greek counterpart is already here. Edgy just went to get food at Lon's Cookin' Shack, but did not get enough for the rest of us. I forgive him because I am stuffed with salmon, macaroni casserole, potatoes, and chocolate cheesecake. Mmm... cheesecake...
Mely: Some of us need no excuse to say "ass" repeatedly. Ass ass ass ass ass. Ass ass. Ass. Ass.
Edgy: Apparently there's something about Mary.
Mely: Apparently, my wearing a bandana and propositioning editorgirl leads Master Chauvinist Homophobe to believe that I'm a lesbian. People are more than manifestations of stereotypes, people.
Tolkien Boy: That's Master Chauvinist Homofob. Get it right.
Edgy: You still haven't told us whether or not you arrived tonight in a big rig. Or was it on a Harley? Stereotypes exist for a reason, people.
Tolkien Boy: We just finished reading my somewhat adverb-laden story and everyone was very nice and didn't even point out that I suck. And there are a lot of reasons for that, too. Me sucking, that is, not them not pointing it out. Anyway, Melyngoch is now is singing Celine Dion songs in preparation for her upcoming wedding. It could be, perhaps, that someone else is getting married, but from the way that she's currently eyeing editorgirl (sic) we can only assume that a sudden remove to Massachusetts is in the works.
Melyngoch, after determining why it was, really, no man would ever loathe her, read a the half of a story in which a man and a woman argue about cats. In this particular case, there was no double meaning in the use of the word cats, though Edgy did threaten a dramatic filibuster, including the songs "Memory" and "Jellicle Ball" sung in a nasal, romance-languaged voice (particularly impressive since "Jellicle Ball" is an instrumental piece). editorgirl countered Edgy's performance with "Mr. Mistoffelees" and "Macavity: The Mystery Cat," complete with choreography. Waiting for the return, Edgy. . .
Edgy: Do I have to return if I'm doing it upside down?
editorgirl: Yes. But luckily Master Fob distracted us all with a brilliant four pages of his latest novel featuring men named Leon, Tim, Crow, and a little sister, too. And this time a man in drag. So much for his contract with Deseret Book. But we have more important things at hand as we wait for Master Fob to decide which fob will get a chance to go to the Heaviside Layer (cat heaven. . . and yes, we mean that kind of cat).
Edgy: Last I checked, Master Fob did not name one of the men "a little sister, too," but I'll review the pages. . . . Yeah. Nobody here goes by the name "a little sister, too."
Mely: I answer to "a little sister, too," but then, my rig is parked behind Lon's Barbecue Shack.
Tolkien Boy: And here I thought that the little sister was a dog. I'm getting my pet animals mixed up. Unfortunately, there are no pet animals in the house to keep me company, and I have to rely on my mold growths. We're all now sitting around talking about how hot it is. And how hot editorgirl is.
Edgy: Your mom is hot. I just learned that Tolkers doesn't know my last name. Silly boy. It's Bunny. Sheesh.
Master Fob: And now I am going. Edgy is going to take me and Melyngoch home, and he is tired. As am I. But then I am usually tired, even when I have no reason to be. And there is always room for dessert, as Tolkien Boy's parents remind us.
Mely: Mmmmm . . . dessert . . . editorgirl . . .
Tolkien Boy: At 7:50 pm, twenty minutes after the meeting had officially started, I discovered to my shock and pain that the noodle dish that I had thought I had devoured on Monday was, in fact, completely undevoured, and was sitting under a dishcover on a long-unused burner coil, and to boot was flowering with a nice toupee of green-gray mold. Panicked that my guests should witness this shameful example of bachelor oblige, but mollifed somewhat that not a single fobsoul showed up until at least 8:00 pm, I hastily deposited the offending pasta disaster in the nearest trash receptacle and sprayed copious amounts of carcinogenic air freshener. There's no limit to the extent of neatness that I will go to for the FOB.
editorgirl: Rushed in, feeling guilty, at 8:00, only to find I'm the first one here. After establishing that nothing happened today (for me) and everything happened today (for TB), we stood around awkwardly for a few nanoseconds until we decided on a quick game o' anagrams. TB was getting his trash kicked when Edgy showed up and violated my personal space. . . granted, my personal space is larger than TB's apartment, but still. It was my space.
Master Fob: I am here. It is 8:24. I am the third to arrive, not counting Tolkien Boy who lives here. We are still waiting for Melyngoch, even though her Greek counterpart is already here. Edgy just went to get food at Lon's Cookin' Shack, but did not get enough for the rest of us. I forgive him because I am stuffed with salmon, macaroni casserole, potatoes, and chocolate cheesecake. Mmm... cheesecake...
Mely: Some of us need no excuse to say "ass" repeatedly. Ass ass ass ass ass. Ass ass. Ass. Ass.
Edgy: Apparently there's something about Mary.
Mely: Apparently, my wearing a bandana and propositioning editorgirl leads Master Chauvinist Homophobe to believe that I'm a lesbian. People are more than manifestations of stereotypes, people.
Tolkien Boy: That's Master Chauvinist Homofob. Get it right.
Edgy: You still haven't told us whether or not you arrived tonight in a big rig. Or was it on a Harley? Stereotypes exist for a reason, people.
Tolkien Boy: We just finished reading my somewhat adverb-laden story and everyone was very nice and didn't even point out that I suck. And there are a lot of reasons for that, too. Me sucking, that is, not them not pointing it out. Anyway, Melyngoch is now is singing Celine Dion songs in preparation for her upcoming wedding. It could be, perhaps, that someone else is getting married, but from the way that she's currently eyeing editorgirl (sic) we can only assume that a sudden remove to Massachusetts is in the works.
Melyngoch, after determining why it was, really, no man would ever loathe her, read a the half of a story in which a man and a woman argue about cats. In this particular case, there was no double meaning in the use of the word cats, though Edgy did threaten a dramatic filibuster, including the songs "Memory" and "Jellicle Ball" sung in a nasal, romance-languaged voice (particularly impressive since "Jellicle Ball" is an instrumental piece). editorgirl countered Edgy's performance with "Mr. Mistoffelees" and "Macavity: The Mystery Cat," complete with choreography. Waiting for the return, Edgy. . .
Edgy: Do I have to return if I'm doing it upside down?
editorgirl: Yes. But luckily Master Fob distracted us all with a brilliant four pages of his latest novel featuring men named Leon, Tim, Crow, and a little sister, too. And this time a man in drag. So much for his contract with Deseret Book. But we have more important things at hand as we wait for Master Fob to decide which fob will get a chance to go to the Heaviside Layer (cat heaven. . . and yes, we mean that kind of cat).
Edgy: Last I checked, Master Fob did not name one of the men "a little sister, too," but I'll review the pages. . . . Yeah. Nobody here goes by the name "a little sister, too."
Mely: I answer to "a little sister, too," but then, my rig is parked behind Lon's Barbecue Shack.
Tolkien Boy: And here I thought that the little sister was a dog. I'm getting my pet animals mixed up. Unfortunately, there are no pet animals in the house to keep me company, and I have to rely on my mold growths. We're all now sitting around talking about how hot it is. And how hot editorgirl is.
Edgy: Your mom is hot. I just learned that Tolkers doesn't know my last name. Silly boy. It's Bunny. Sheesh.
Master Fob: And now I am going. Edgy is going to take me and Melyngoch home, and he is tired. As am I. But then I am usually tired, even when I have no reason to be. And there is always room for dessert, as Tolkien Boy's parents remind us.
Mely: Mmmmm . . . dessert . . . editorgirl . . .
posted by Tolkien Boy at 7/13/2006 06:44:00 PM
2 Comments:
I'm very entertained. :)
I now decree, as the Queen, that all meetings of FOB will henceforth be documented in a similar fashion as this meeting so that those of us not present, yet longing to be, will not be left out.
So let it be written, so let it be done. (Moses, Moses...)
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