Oh, I got hot sause all over my bazito!

You know what this is? It's a brain sucker. You know what it's doing? Filing its tax return

If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent apple pie

The Adventures of Little Ed Brave

Tell airport security your name is McCannister because you can hide anything in a cannister.

You know what? Nobody notices when this changes anyway.

There are 10 types of people in the world: Those who understand binary, and STFU

What happens in a black hole stays in a black hole

The black hole draws you inexorably inward. Time slows. You are likely to be eaten by a grue.

I'd diddle little umdidlie... if she weren't my half-sister.

Abortion prevents pedophilia. In more ways than one!
Get Firefox!
I wrote a haiku

which I was about to share,

but then I thought, "screw it."
Level 1

Notice to all users of the Holodeck:

There are safety protocols in place that cannot be deactivated without the approval of two commanding officers or the captain to protect users of the Holodeck from potential harm. However, every time the Holodeck is ever used in a nontrivial manner, no matter what the safety protocols say, the Holodeck turns into a deathtrap.

Unless you believe yourself to be adept at constructing a forcefield from your communicator and 19th century Earth tools, or you're at the very least not wearing a red shirt, you are strongly advised not to attempt to use the Holodeck until a designer comes up with a safety protocol that doesn't kill you whenever somebody looks at it funny. Even when you're not on the holodeck. Or in the same quadrant. Or time period.

In fact, if you are wearing a red shirt, Starfleet may not be the job for you

Ed
« Word of the day: periphrasticHumanity: Give up now »

Kitten Cake

Permalink 01/09/09 at 06:44:02 am, by Ed, 192 words   English (US)
Categories: Media, Dreams of a phenytoin addict

I bet my dream was stranger than yours.

A large portion of it took place backstage in what can only be described as a pile of people. But that has nothing to do with the interesting part.

The interesting part starts in a bedroom, whose only distinguishing feature was a Victrola in the far right corner from the bed. Bridget and I were eating some Cat Cake (take a dead cat, build a cake on top with some fruit an' stuff, freeze until ready to eat). We had two boxes, one with the cat cake, and a smaller cake came in the other box on top.

We didn't eat the cake on top for aHwile, and instead went to bed. When we woke up, I saw a small caterpillar-like thing crawling around on the sheets. I shooed it away under the bed, at which time it grew into a small kitten. Apparently, the smaller cake had fetus-kittens in it. It thawed out because we had left it out, and the fetus-kittens escaped and suddenly, poof, now we have a kitty! Yay! I will love him and squeeze him and call him George.

No feedback yet

Comments are closed for this post.