Despite the remaining warm weather, I chose to climb into a pair of flannels with which to crawl into bed tonight. Who am I trying to impress anyway?
I hope no one has gone on to believe that I've been suffering from a case of the lonelys this whole time that I've been away from writing. Stuff's been too crazy to tell you otherwise. I'd apologize, but I'm not trying to impress you, so too bad. :)
A little while ago, I was bursting with things to write about, but now, after 2 attempts, I still have yet to put anything publishable to the page. And so, I shall attempt to tell you later about my day today with Squiggly, my tourney trip to San Fran, and my family trip to Montreal. For now, I will stick to the ever reliable Thundering Chicken Hero Cookie story.
As you may or may not be familiar with, everytime my friend the Thundering Chicken Hero Cookie returns to town from London, England (how do you piss off the British? Ask where England is on a map), there is some sort of randomly memorable experience to be had. In the past, there was the alien bug, the biggest gamble ever, the chase-the-skunk night, and the asian fried chicken, to name a few.
However, the time before last, he managed to return without much ado. Sure it was his birthday weekend and there were some drunken festivities involved, but nothing really out of the ordinary. In fact, we'd made it to the last day of his trip home, and still nothing had happened. He, myself and Dimps had spent the evening down at the Taste of the Danforth, and were paused by the side of the crowded, people-filled road, waiting for Sherman to find us when we addressed this. Actually, it was TCHC himself that brought this up.
"I can't believe that I've been home this whole time and nothing crazy has happened."
"I know! You haven't had your usual dose of stupidness this trip; it's really throwing me off!"
"Tell me about it. Maybe I've somehow cleansed my karma and am now free of all stupidness."
"I can't imagine you getting off that easy. But you do leave tomorrow; I guess we'll have to put this trip down as the first one without you experiencing something retarded."
"Maybe...weiiiiiird."
We fell silent for a moment as we searched the throngs of people for Sherman. Not even 4 seconds had passed since our stupidness-less exchange when a clearly intoxicated girl stumbled onto the scene with her posse of friends chasing after her, trying to keep her in check. The three of us smiled, faintly amused at the familiar sight, when she started to head our direction; with us having chosen our meeting spot for it being landmarked by the bank of porta-potties, her direction change towards us only seemed to make sense since she looked ready to keel over and worship the next porcelain god she could find.
TCHC, Dimps, and I watched her get closer and closer with her friends, until it suddenly dawned on the three of us too late that she was definitely headed straight for TCHC. Sure enough, before we could react, she had clapped a hand onto TCHC's shoulder and was close-talking her fateful message directly to his face.
"Hey! Asian-cock!" and with her free hand, she totally, full-frontally, wanged him in the sweet-spot.
"D'oh!" came TCHC's cry.
"Oooooooooooooooh," came mine and Dimps's inward gasp.
"Oh my god we're so sorry!" the posse of friends tried to apologize.
"It's okay! It's just my asian brotha!" came the excuse from the intoxicated ball-smacker.
Needless to say, TCHC returned to England the next day, his stupid-streak still intact.
And for the record, while it wasn't on home turf, I have seen that Thundering Chicken Hero Cookie since, and let's just say that the streak is STILL going, this last time involving 20GBP, crab-legs, and "just this much" diaper rash cream. Good times always.
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