Easter Madness

Easter is practically here! And besides being the largest sugar-holiday the year round, it also features a rabbit who lays eggs! It takes one heckuva a race to take a holiday and do that with it. At least there's no decorations involved.
I do like some of the celebratory aspects of the holiday, though. For instance I get a lot of fulfillment out of easter-egging houses (which is throwing plastic easter eggs at people's homes) and I can't get enough of going out into the woods with a shotgun and hunting easter eggs (the easter egg season is so short, though! with the huge closed season they get, you'd think there'd be billions of them).
Anyway, happy easter, and may all your rabbits lay chocolate eggs for you! (Check to make sure they are chocolate eggs before eating them, mind)

That Hideous Stench*

You all know of it. It stalks from the lavatory like a stalker, stalking anything that stands in its way. Of course, none can stand it for long.
It's the smell of...let's say...a 'fecal deposit' that Uncle Harry 'Twenty Hot Dogs'** Fartswell-[Insert last name of your choosing here] has just made in the Bathroom Credit Union. And the smell is awful. It's a horrible, miasmal, nose-exploding fog that shoots up the nasal passages and gives the olfactory system a good walloping. No one can stand it! But it just might be able to be dealt with. And woe to him who is chosen to deal with it.
My mom deals with it by opening a window and fanning the air desperately in an occult effort to get the essence of the stench to leave.
My dad deals with it by putting on his breathing apparatus, running into the bathroom and hosing the toilet's insides out (my dad's a fireman--he deals with most things the same way)
Scott deals with it by spraying about six gallons of air-freshener into the bathroom, which works by suffocating anyone who's around to smell anything.
I deal with it by doing a rite to the Stench Daemon of the Sewer Hells, which is comprised of standing over the toilet, lighting a match to draw the daemon's attention, tracing the shape of an air-freshener can in the air to keep him from taking over your soul, a spiral with the flaming match down toward the toilet bowl to signify that you hate the stench and you acknowledge his great, stinky power, waving the match out to signify that you wish him to make the stench go away, and dipping the match in the toilet-water to keep him from lighting your house on fire.
Personally, I think my way is the most logical.


*Haha I'm quite proud of that title--for those of you not versed in the works of C.S. Lewis, it's a spoof of the title of his book 'That Hideous Strength.'
**Named for his amazing ability to eat twenty hot dogs in two minutes.

Oh No...

I forgot to blog on Firday! I'm spelling it wrong and missing my garmar I'm that distrawt!

I'm so sorry! I woke up this morning and thought "Hey, today's Friday, I'm going to blo--Holy Crow! Wait! It's SATTTUUUUURRRRDAAAAYYYY!" and then I choked on my own bile and fell backwards, hitting my head on my antique 3rd century cudgel--which has a nail through it--and got a concussion and suffered a debilitating brain aneurysm which killed me.

Okay, so I didn't have a concussion or an aneurysm, but I was mourning! I wrote my own dirge and mapped out where I wanted my barrow to be, I was so fearful what you guys would do to me. THIS WAS THE SECOND TIME IN A ROW!

There was a river of my tears flowing through the house, and dragons flying about, created from the mournful farts I loosed.

THE SECOND TIME!

I had never forgotten twice in a row! I was sure the blood of my veins and arteries would spill and create a great pool and you, my vengeful murderers would swim in it leisurely while snacking on my heart. I knew my head would soon be on a pole, being waved around while a rite was performed to make sure my soul burned in the seventh circle of hell forever.

And then I logged on, my hands shaking and my eyes watering in anticipation of my rightful slaughter, and I saw you all just crying.

Crying. No double-headed flails readied to bludgeon me, no mystic enchantresses slaughtering goats on stone altars in preparation for slaughtering me.

I would have been disappointed if I weren't so glad to still be alive.

I'm so sorry! I forgot!

You see, unlike Scott, I am not really on the carousel of busyness (well, maybe on the outlying regions, like the rooster) but on the carousel of forgetfulness and disorientation. I don't often wake up on friday and think "Okay, today's Friday, I'm going to blog." or sometimes I do, but by the time I have breakfast those thoughts are forgotten. I'm working on getting off the CFD! I am! I really am! But I'm on the ostrich. And the ostrich is eight feet tall. So it's not exactly easy.

By the by, do you like the new template?

Oh, and, um, *Squirms* remember I said I was going to have the first drawing of the week up this week? Haha, hahahah, umm, haahaha, um, how about next week?