I work with easily the smartest man I have ever met. He is, afterall, the creator of the 'Baby Rumpster' moniker. A name that never took off with any great popularity, but seemed funny anyway. That would explain how it stuck in my mind when I was naming this blog.
Whilst opening the Kirb today, he served up a nice volley as he was passing by. Simply, he said, "Where are Lurch and Captain Happy?". These names have never been uttered at the Kirb before. Funny then, that I knew exactly of whom he was speaking. I knew then that a blog was being written tonight.
A little back story. I wrote an entry, recently, about the almost-legal character on Heroes who, ostensibly, could re-grow her decimated cooch after each sexual encounter. I like to pick up on little convos here and there and maybe see if it inspires me to write something. Anything. But I leave all participants anonymous. Well, one of the actors in the second helping of that conversation found a little offense that I would write about it. That indignation was passed on to (referred to, henceforth, as such) Captain Happy, whose only comment, the next day was
Hey. Hey. Fuck you! And fuck you again if you don't know why.
Oh, and the second guy in the first take on this conversation is the man to whom we will now refer to as Lurch.
I got so pumped thinking about how nicknames will be the device I use to tell stories that seem less stale than using only pronouns. So, to my friends, (Brown Rain, D-stain, Easy Mac, Rube, Wallaby, Maximus, Puddles, Lurch and Captain Happy), I say welcome. And to those without the suitable nickname yet? All you have to do is sit and wait.
5 Messages of Encouragement Received Today:
"... if you don't know."
It's not that you told the story... it's that you told the story in an intellectually dishonest way.
Nobody told the story while cleverly devising a plan to find the nearest self-regenerating virgin and rape her so that we could test the hypothesis. Nor did we have, "shit-eating grins" which were to imply that we were acting out some sort of hetero-fantasy.
If I blogged about a fraction of the stories that we've all told at Club 160Deuce, it'd be enough to ensure that Baby Rumpster, Captain Happy or the incredible D-Stain could never, ever hold public office.
We were joking. Do you remember that? I admit, I don't remember what it's like to joke with you much lately, either seeing as I'm pretty consistently pissed off at you.
What can I say, Dylan? I guess I'm happy that you are taking my blog seriously???
But, there was no intellectual dishonesty in the story. It was written for humor. And that you don't remember what it's like to joke with me is unfortunate. Especially since this would be the first occasion that you would have actually let me in on the fact that you have been pretty consistently pissed off at me. That might be a more productive conversation to have than you masking this anger towards me (by the way, that's a one-way street...no anger here for you) by firing off hostile missives about how you, an unnamed participant, felt slighted by a humorous blog entry.
Additionally, (and this is in NO WAY an apology for the post), your only inclusion on the story is that you happened to be part of the re-telling before I could write about the first conversation, which, had I had access to my computer, would have been written the night before. So, in fact, no, you never had a shit-eating grin. On this point we agree.
I can sincerely say that I hope you can get past being pretty consistently pissed off at me. But, in the end, that's something you have to work through.
Peace.
PS. Oh, and one more thing. The ship has sailed for, um, yeah...all three of us on ever holding public office. Or at least unless we pledge to run, warts and all.
((whispers)) Psst! Hey blogosphere...pass the popcorn!
Annnnnnnddddd....btw, I hate Ruby for my name.
But Humorgirl...you aren't Ruby. Your name is Brown Rain.
LOL...yes, I knew what you meant.
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