Thursday, April 02, 2009
(If you want to skip the nonsense that follows, GO HERE. Of course, if you wanted to skip the nonsense, you wouldn't have me bookmarked.)
Did you pack your jammies? Got your teddy bear? You didn't forget your bathing suit, did you? Good. We're going on a trip, and we're staying overnight. I hope you remembered to bring extra underwear. You're likely to need it after you find out where we're going.
You may, despite the stunning ability of the brain to block out horrific memories, remember the interview Emon Hassan did with me several weeks back. If you successfully blocked it out, but for some reason you wish to relive the carnage, here's Part One and (sequentially enough) Part Two.
At that time, he promised (or threatened, depending upon your ability to absorb punishment) to continue the interview at a later date, with the third and fourth portions of it concerned with what laughingly passes for a musical career in my delusionally grandiose memories.
Well, the time has come to pay the piper (an apt turn of phrase considering the subject matter, don't you think?)
Go HERE. Now!
Don't give me that look! Uncle Emon's gone to all this trouble for you, and if you don't show a little appreciation... well, you will, if you know what's good for you! Don't cry, or I'll give you something to cry about! And eat everything on your plate at dinner, you little brat! It's bad manners to tell your host you don't like creamed spinach! And if you have to fart, hold it in until you get home!
If you don't stop pouting right now, I swear I'll turn this blog around, and...
Oh, for goodness' sakes, just go.