A little more on GB. He's about 4' 5" tall and loves to make squirrel and other odd sounds like a dolphin, and will repeatedly smack his head like a orangutan in heat. It seems painful, but I suspect a part of his apparent Tourette's Syndrome that wears thin after a few seconds. He also uses the delicate keyboard like a bongo drum in the Congo, often destroying it utterly as keys go flying elsewhere. Not for the faint of heart or mothers expecting.
The GB Diaries: Tales from the Dip: Day 3
I seem to have lost Day 3 somewhere, perhaps in time and space? I'm sure it'll come up like someday The Travelling Wilburys Volume 2 might, or Cygnus X-1: Book III.
Here's how it sort of turned-out though... (note the banjos)..
This is how the day sort of went by my best approximation above
 |
| Raaaaarrrrlllll!!!!!! |
The GB Diaries: Tales from the Dip: Day 4
At first, I lamented that GB wasn’t going to do anything abnormal, so I asked him if at home he owned a piano. Sadly, he did not. He worked on trying to fix the graphics on his console as he immediately broke it upon login for 3 hours, resulting in a REEEEEE-boot (which did not work). Eventually, HW used the GSE GIF to adjust the graphics to my delight.
 |
| Inside the mind of GB is.. this.. (above).. all the time. |
Suddenly, behind me (GB loves to go where there’s people with such need and immediacy) his Tupperware’d lunch exploded all over the GSE area, upward and out, on all furniture, walls, chairs, ghosts. I was spared the onslaught through sheer luck. Beans, broccoli, and other unknown gray matter he later indicated was “veal” but I suspect was “possum” splattered everywhere like some Picasso failed cubist project. A good portion got in his hair, behind his ears, and down his shirt and pants. He sat in it and sighed, perhaps not without pleasure? I fetched some paper towels but I think he just gobbled the catastrophe off the floor like a retarded sow. He sighed greatly and with gusto, “Heeehhhhhhh!” My fear is this happened before midnight and the kidney beans and broccoli will produce profound farts within his gizzard on a mystic level like an elephant attacked by DigDug then released, or like the Saturn V project of the 1960’s. I hope it can stay bottled-up by 5:30. I pray. Oh, I pray, Lord Jesus, lest he ass-blast Stall 3 to put Curtis to shame and we know the Book of Revelations and things to come, and a third of the oceans boil away, and a third of the land destroyed.
End of Day 4
The GB Diaries: Tales from the Dip: Day 5
I forgot to add that RS and myself were discussing what would happen if you put a low-quality whiskey in an oak cask and let it sit for 10 years, adding a bit of sugar and yeast to perhaps continue the fermentation process and improve the quality. I had suspected the result would be a more "woody" flavored whiskey that might be a little stronger from the yeast eating the sugar, but GB piped-up, "If you do that you'll just end up with a cask of bread." Rick and I looked at each other, confused for a bit. I asked GB, "Is that how you make bread, GB? Whiskey, sugar and yeast in an oak cask?" He replied, "Yep! In 10 years it turns into bread!" "GB," I cautioned, "there's other ingredients to making bread." He didn't believe me. Apparently bread takes a long time to make I guess, and it's why it's so expensive these days.
The Wisdom of GB: Chapter 2, Verse 4 through 8, in Thy mercy.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment