Sunday, November 26, 2006

brother Ethan

a recent quote from my brother Ethan that Bob just had to share with you:

Ethan, to Bob: "Be a good scrunchey or I'll have to light you on fire."

Stupid Ethan.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Drunken Lullabies

I suppose i should say something about the recent conference I went to friday-sunday for Higher Things ( as all the other weirdos are. brother Stupid has a good one of quotes, although he insists upon referring to Bob by that infernal nickname that I can't seem to get rid of, Zeke. it was a lot of fun, lots of strange people talking, listening to realy good lectures, lightsaber fighting, hymn singing, Mouthhouse (a mailing list for Higher Things) Clue, etc. bob met nice people for the first time and was reacquainted with some who have infested Bob's dreams already. go to Stormfield, he has a pretty good despiction of the whole thing through quotes. he's so artistic. through the lectures Bob, Seth G, Garrot, Bob's brother and occasionaly other people passed stupid notes like little kids in the 4th grade, but it was fun. when not listening intently or reading/writing notes, Bob let his artistic side show and drew stick figure swat teams in firefights with stick figure militia. Even the simplest things entertain the mentaly retarted. bob met a lot of people who 75% of my audience (meaning three out of the four people who read) will not know. Rae: scary, life of the party, Seth: scary, death of the part, but fun for Gay Mario singing, Paul: has OCD which sets off Bob's OCD, Nat: eerily regular person with cheap katana, Maggie: nice, psycotic person with evil tests, Seth w/funky hair: maiwage, Harris: conservative, NRA lover loving person, Garret: "wasn't there some little thing between the Scots and English or something...". If I missed you and you were there and not insane yet, yell at me. Bob had a good time, got no sleep, developed a new OCD that other people cannot guess (other than guinea pig (cough), llama *Bob toutches nose* and cow, "moo". After the the conference we said goodbye to people, and then all decided to go to Rae's house which was on the way for most of us. There we played air guitar and fiddle (???) to Green Day songs, acted drunk because we're idiots, went to "scary" bridge which the other weenies would not cross because it was "(whine) uuunsafe (whine)". But all too soon we left and began back home with Nat and Maggie who we dropped off in Indiana. At last we went through The Evil Lands (Illinois) and back to Wisconsin.
For the first time in his life, Bob almost misses being around people, specific people, but people none the less. Oh well, he'll just cover it with massive, spasm inducing amounts of caffine. And are you all bewaring the ides of March? good! time for Bob to go back to his padded cell once again.

Day: 10
Word Count: exactly 21,000 words
Caffine Intake: almost exactly 1 gallon, 70 oz.
Sanity Level (1=thinking like freuid 10=raving lunatic): 6

Was she sent down to me from the heavens above?
her breath pure as whiskey by heart fell in love.
--May the Living be Dead in the Wake by Flogging Molly
(aren't the Irish such beautiful poets?)