I have a very special announcement I would like to make. Before I go ahead with it, I would like all my adoring female fans to brace themselves for a shock. Please make sure you are sitting down, and go ahead and pour yourselves a glass of water. I, Reidly Von Paskiewicz III, will be getting married on May 6th, a week from today, to a beautiful girl who shall remain nameless for security reasons (Freemasons), but who I will refer to as "Sassypants". That's right, the fiery Internet stallion known as Frolixo is being taken out of the ranch and into the glue factory where I will be bottled and sold to kindergartners so they may build paper crafts and occasionally eat me when they’re feeling naughty. I know this news will send droves of women to throw themselves off sheer cliffs to their deaths like lemmings, but it cannot be helped. I must follow my heart, and my heart tells me that I must marry the girl I fell in love with long ago so we can settle down in a little cottage someplace and grow old together. Now my heart is telling me to buy a box of delicious Krispy Kreme donuts, so I'll be right back.
These donuts sure are good but if I have more than one at a time I get a massive sugar rush that gives me superhuman strength and the ability to shoot lasers from my eyes. Of course when I come down a few minutes later, I am completely exhausted and must retire to my bed and be fanned with peacock feathers by small negro children until my brain fever passes. I actually like the Dunkin’ Donuts cake-style donuts better because they fill you up more and they are fun to dunk in their awesome coffee, but I'm always down for an outrageously sweet Krispy Kreme to get my taste buds dancing and become afflicted with incurable diabetes. I see this upcoming marriage just like a Krispy Kreme donut, delicate and sweet, and thankfully not too expensive. In fact, I wanted to use their donuts for the rings but ate them a couple of days ago in a moment of weakness. Regardless, the wedding must go on.
Although this is the first time I have mentioned my plan of getting married, this was not a hasty overnight decision. For years I have been courting Sassypants with my charms and delights, writing her haikus about the death of the MIR and updating her on what particular snack food I was consuming at the moment. Sassypants proved to be a winsome and temperamental spirit, and it took much persuasion on my part to win her affection with my e-mail attachments of bunny .gif images and pictures of kittens in boxes. Just when I thought she was in my grasp, she would giggle and run away, and I would pursue on the hunt, my hounds nipping at her heels. My persistence paid off, and soon we moved into the dating stage. I must admit that I was hardly a ladies’ man and the initial courtship period was shaky at best. All the years of playing Dungeons and Dragons in an ill-lit basement did not prepare me for such an occasion, so I had to learn through trial and error.
Marriage is a lot like an overweight centaur. Wait no it's not.
I was unsure of how to display my affection towards her so at first I just went with my instinct and left the corpses of animals that I killed at her doorstep, then rang her doorbell and ran away. This turned out in my favor because she asked me to come over and protect her from some weird psychopath that kept leaving dead animals on her doorstep. Soon she was in my arms and I was whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Really, I was just babbling nonsense, but it still made her coo with delight. We spent hours fawning over each other, and I confessed that I was horribly smitten with her and would like to be her boyfriend. She blushed and accepted, and then she fell asleep in my comforting arms. When she woke up the next morning I was gone, as was her entire set of silverware and DVD player. After that, we lost touch for a while because I disconnected my phone and didn't check my e-mail.
Six months later the guilt inside me was unbearable, and I went to her house to confess my crimes. She seemed taken aback by my earnest apologies, and we started dating again. Everyday I would steal the sweetest smelling flowers for her and read poems expressing my love underneath her window until the police arrived. I met her mother at a dinner and I was extremely pleased that she didn't dislike me or do a background check. Our first kiss was a memorable but awkward affair. We had just watched the Red Wings win the Stanley Cup at a local bar when I was walking Sassypants to her car. I leaned forward to kiss her but then stopped because I'm really shy and was unsure if I was being too bold. Then I decided to go for it, but she had already turned so when I tried to kiss her, she stumbled on my foot and fell down on the pavement. For a second I thought about running away and joining the Moscow circus, but eventually I came to and helped her to her feet. Then we kissed passionately and it was as if a thousand angels were running around us shouting "Go Wings!" The angels turned out to be rioters celebrating Detroit's victory, and we made a hasty retreat as they tipped our cars and set them on fire. I smiled ear to ear as I fled from the carnage behind me.
Soon Sassypants moved in with me, which turned out to be a rough transition from my old bachelor life of living alone in a squalid apartment with my pet guinea pig. The first thing she got rid of was my underwear drying system, an invention of my own design. Basically after soaking my underwear in the sink, I would hang them from a contraption comprised of deer antlers, copper wire, and a complicated system of pullies where they could air dry naturally, like God intended. I also had to start urinating in the toilet, and instead of filling up my refrigerator with frozen fish sticks, chicken pot pies, and beer, we actually bought food that you had to cook on the stove, and something called salad that I remember seeing on TV before. She taught me how to button my dress shirts, which I could never figure out and would just duct tape shut, as well as the concept of using dishes instead of just laying on the couch and putting food on my belly. I won't say that it was an easy change for me, but my domestication was a much needed one and now I enjoy the afternoons drinking tea instead of just beating the next closest male to death with a bone club.
Leave us alone you fiendish spirit!
It was not long after this that I made the decision to propose marriage to Sassypants. I was driving home from the bar one night, my stomach full of sweet ale, and my heart was aching with the feelings of romance. I veered my car off course from home and to the cemetery, where I prepared myself for some late night digging with pick and spade. The diamond ring was of excellent make and sparkled in the moonlight. Lincoln's late wife, Mary, wouldn't be needing it any longer, so I saw nothing wrong about liberating it for my own needs. When I proposed to Sassypants while walking in the nearby woods, her face turned beet red and hot little tears burst out from her eyes like termites jumping out of a burning log. She said "yes" and we embraced in happiness. Then Lincoln's ghost descended on us, tearing at our clothes with his bony fingers, obviously upset that I cut the engagement ring from his dead wife's hand. Since then, we have learned to live with the curse of Lincoln's unruly spirit that follows the ring everywhere. Every morning we burn incense and play the music of Hall and Oates, and that seems to calm him down a little. I also found out that trapped inside the diamond are the souls of all the confederate solders who died in the Civil War. We must be careful not to release these spirits as they would turn into a ghost army like in The Return of the King, and take over the north. I guess that's the price you pay for a free engagement ring.
The whole wedding planning is in order thanks to the great organization skills of Sassypants, who tirelessly worked while I hid in a coal bin and cried. We had a wedding shower where we received approximately 2.4 tons of towels and Corningware. I am currently using them to build a great pyramid, and donated some of the towels to dry the continent of Africa. I brought the game Axis and Allies to the shower just for fun but all the ladies seemed to think it was a dessert table and ate all my little Russian tanks thinking they were chocolate confections. I also had my bachelor party, but cannot discuss the events surrounding it since they are still under the investigation of the state police, FBI, and PETA.
So this is it - when I come back two weeks from now I'll be a married man. No more late nights playing Megaman III until I throw up. It's time to take the plunge and not look back. I'm just glad it's to such an intelligent and beautiful girl as Sassypants. Awwwww.
I swear I'm not a Communist. That hat is really great in the winter.
Well I just got a memo from Lowtax in the form of an arrow shot at my head saying that this week is top ten week and if I break the chain I will be cursed by the ghost of the Internet. Well, I already have Lincoln's ghost following me everywhere and making farting noises that people blame on me, so the last thing I need is another ghostie. Therefore, I present to you the top ten list for today.
10. Powdered Cake
9. Glazed Cruller
8. Glazed Blueberry
7. Original Glazed
6. Sugar Coated
5. Glazed Devil's Food
4. Chocolate Iced
3. Glazed Cream Filled
2. Chocolate Iced with Sprinkels
1. Chocolate Iced Cream Filled
Oh man, now I'm hankering for some Krispy Kreme in the worst possible way. I hope I can fit into my suit next week. See ya’ll later, and wish me luck!
The Upper Kitchen Cabinet Where Your Roommate Keeps His Food: You’ll 'need the footstool' to reach your roommate’s 'fine selection' of 'stale cereal,' but he'll never notice if 'only a little is missing from each box.' Feel less guilty by reminding yourself that Jeff 'acts weird around your girlfriend,' and always 'asks about her.' What a 'creep.'
This is the crown jewel of my erotic lamp collection, and a must-have for any serious pleasure lamp collector.
This ain't your daddy's globe...! .... or is it?!
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