Clareified

I guess it’s my own fault for not remembering that Mary only blogs consistently one time of the year: October.

Why? Because she isn’t just called Scary Mary because it rhymes.

Seriously, go on… click that link. I double dog dare you.

HA! Chicken!

Anyhoo… Scary Mary is more than mid way through this year’s Halloween themed madness: scariest characters in television and movies (I refuse to call it “Telly” because my forefathers shot muskets in the faces of the dang dirty British, so I could call it TV like a good American. What? Yeah, so apparently Sarah Palin and I took the same American history class in high school. What of it?! SEXISTS!)

Anyway, go catch up with the monster mash over on the Loony net.

She hasn’t hit any of my scariest yet… though that little boy from the Twilight Zone is pretty darn freaky.

#Races

Maths even Dawn can do.

From me to them.

After his disaster winter, you’d think he’d try getting lessons from cities that have figured out how to clear snow in less than a week and a half.

:/

Vinnay has season tickets behind the dugout. Or something hockeyier. He and Astin sat there. Mark and I got last minute tickets from stubhub. We were in the “Colored” section. I could not look down for fear of falling.
Buffalo was wailing on Toronto throughout the first period. I was tweeting the game until Mark was all “stop tweeting and watch the game! This is why you think there’s a dugout in hockey!”
#Truestory.
He served as my personal Dumbledore for the rest of the game telling me why people were cheering even though no one scored.
“My favorite sound is the puck hitting the goal post.”
“But then doesn’t that mean they missed?”
“Yes. But you know how close they got? Ping!”
The man loves his hockey.
He also promised he would bring his special wings for me at Vinnay’s party the next day.
“Cool! I think we’re all going to Gabriel’s Gate tonight!”
Mark looked away and whistled.
The Sabres destroyed the Raptors by a million touchdowns to 2 runs and all the Canadians in attendance were sad.
“Do we have to be nice and sympathetic to Astin?” Mark asked
I laughed.
“No. hahahahahahahahaha”
After the game we’re walking back to the car, I am DYING. The snow mounds are just about thigh high on me. The guys kept having to wait for me to catch up. Finally, we get to the car and I’m all “Gabriel’s Gate!”
How did we end up in the Cozumel parking lot? HOOOWWWWW???
We’re all standing around the entrance waiting for the cool kids to finish their cigarettes when the snow started calling me. I balled up a fistful and threw it with alarming accuracy. It hit Vinnay right in the face.
Whoops.
“It was an accident! I was aiming for the guy behind you…You can’t prove it was me! Astin did it! You wouldn’t hit a girl!”
Oh, he so would.

Read the whole thing. Cause I said so.

via Ken Wheaton

Right away, in every apocalypse scenario.

Heck, I’m dying right now and I’m pretty sure it was just the freezing rain what done it.

via Mary

Excerpted from I Had Outs.

I woke up in the Flamingo completely flummoxed about where I was. And I’m not going to lie, I took longer than I should’ve to figure it out.

Oh yes.

Las Vegas.

WPBT.

Spent $200 on a fifth of Jameson’s. Oy.

I texted around to discover there were white people “golfing” and industrious souls “breakfasting.” I went back to bed. I woke up when VinNay and Alceste in rapid succession texted me that they had landed.

Okay, it’s past noon.

This is a more acceptable getting out of bed in Las Vegas time.

The three of us met up with April and Jason for brunch at Cafe Bellagio. We tried to score a seat in our favorite waiter’s section, but instead ended up in the “No orange juice for white people” section. I rather enjoyed this positioning, as I now controlled all the orange juice on the table. Actually, April did get a mimosa, leading to exasperated groans from VinNay. “Isn’t it harder to put orange juice AND champagne in a glass? Why won’t they bring me my regular orange juice?!” And then he started to cry. And I laughed. And ordered like three orange juices just so he could watch me not even drink them. I made a little orange juice moat for my bacon and eggs.

Now, before you judge me, I’ll have you know that every last one of them was making fun of me and calling me a bad poker player! Alceste, who was on my last longer team, was all “well, just do the best you can to not bust out first. No limping with queens under the gun.”

And VinNay was all “Well, don’t put that kind of pressure on her. Big field No limit hold em tournaments are not her thing.”

“Oh yeah? THAT sounds like a last longer bet, Buster!”

“Okay, how much?” he replied.

“Um…er…five bucks?!” What? Big field no limit hold em tournaments are not my thing. SHUT UP!

And Jason was all “well, all I know is I’m going to be the last one standing!”

I drink their orange juice!

“You just fucked up! YOU FUCKED UP!”
hahahahaahahahahahah

via Petitedov