The GB Holiday Christmas Special

 

Merry Christmas!

 

 

  So this is it, I'm moving on to a new site for my work, and therefore will no longer be subjected to the likes of GB.  A pity, really, because his existence has given me years of material; but like so many humans on this blue Earth, I have found in my worldwide travels that characters repeat.  Have you ever met a guy, only to be reminded of him in the face and demeanor of someone else?  Stranger still, a physical representation but not a personality mirror?  That example is the most disturbing.  I knew a kid who reminded me a bit of myself, a bit younger, but was decidedly far more evil, like some Star Trek Mirror-Universe version of myself; some "anti" me.  Fun to think about, and writers have played on that for centuries.

 

Mirror-Universe Star Trek original series girls are decidedly "naughty".

 

 

  Back in the 1970's we had to endure "variety shows", especially one-off ones during the holday season that usually included a few singing routines such as "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" by Dorris Day or Jim Neighbors or Carol Burnett.  There'd be some comedy routines and some dance numbers and it'd take up a good few hours of prime-time TV. 

 

This happened.

 

Yep.  Blackface...  blackface... that's enterTAINment, kids!  See the blacks?!

Because America loves this shit, "Madame!"

  Sometimes a Muppet would show up, or more likely an "off-Muppet" such as "Madame" or Rod Hull and his emu.  Sometimes there'd be some ice-skating or John Denver on piano, or perhaps Harvey Corman and Tim Conway in some skit.  Honestly, it was all pretty vile as some clever Jewish Hollywood exec thought the dumb middle-class Americans would probably eat this stuff up (and we did, because we only had 3 channels, and PBS was showing the MacNeil Lehrer News Hour that was painful with turtlenecks and coffee). 

 

Even Bea Arthur can't believe she's talking to a puppet named, "Madame" as "entertainment" on a variety-show.

 

 

John Denver thinking, "America, f*ck, yeah!"

Rod Hull's attacking emu would bite the necks of most guests violently.

  We were stuck with no internet, a few AM radio-dramas, about 3 FM channels, and the 3 TV channels with one exception of a UFH showing, perhaps, the Creature Double Feature staring Godzilla and Gamera on our 19" "console" TVs.  Merv Griffin in his gold Sears polyester suit or Charles Nelson Riley trying for one more laugh, "Gnan GHNAN!" as a leftover from the earlier Laugh-In set.  Aside from these "CBS Specials" and those sponsored by Peter-Paul candies (such as Rudolph or Charlie Brown) that was about it.

 

 

Miss Piggy took a lot of Oxycodone sedatives back then, mostly to calm her pre-show hypertensions.

 

 

You know, I used to work at the 1st Space Control Squadron that fielded the NORAD "Santa Trakcer" as a side-duty on Christmas Eve.  The job sucked during that day, because we'd be trying to solve for collision avoidance with the Space Shuttle and International Space Station while kids would call up and ask if Santa was white or black.  I mean, really, kids, I ain't got time for THAT!  Ain't nobody got time for DAT!  I responded (wrongly, and regrettably) that the origin of Saint Klause was likely of Dutch "Sinterklasse" and therefore probably not African, being all technical and what-not.  I should have said, "any color you are is what he is.." but whatever, kid.  I just saved the lives of 5 astronauts and ruined the life of 1 kid's false-god.  At least I didn't bring up Krampus.

 

Love that Joker!

  

Krampus, the character that shows-up to bad boys and girls in Europe for Christmas.  Yep.  This is also a thing.

 

Yep, this is how it usually went, though the Lt.Colonel here would go home
by 6pm and we'd work all night with this script we'd read.  Oh such fun't.  N't!

It's fielded now by a team, thankfully, possibly because of my logical banter, but whatever.  We had coordinates and read various scripts based on time where Santa was.  Kids would ask if Florida was near Georgia in their home town and I'd explain that it was, that Santa was really nearby and they should go to bed right away!  Cute but dorky. 

 

Actual real-life modern-day Sinterklasse and.. two Dutch in blackface again.. yep.  That's a thing.

 

 

 

Oh, look!  GB's typing our doom!

I can't imagine a world without the blinding and astounding ineptitude that GB has provided, the harassment as a work partner akin to a base-ketball-sized wasp-nest in a pup-tent, zipped tight with me and a pug on acid and cocaine.  Such delights that create doom for operations while frantically trying to thwart Putin's chess-game with America has caused serious alarm and having ground-down my teeth the loss of one in the front and no small amount of gray hair (GB would invariably spell it in the UK "grey" because, well, that's how he is, except adding a lower-case 8 perhaps, or a green, anomalous silent "square" in there.)

 

 

 

 

  I'd like to point-out that I haven't mentioned enough how bad his log-entries were, or that what a pathological liar he is to the point of extreme comedy.  In this "Holiday Christmas Special" I'd like to point out a few that I missed, and, heck, why not(?) make up a few on my own that are "in the spirit" of the like because the Lord knows he's lied to me on so many occasions for no benefit, just out of stupid, cruel malice, often burning himself in the process.  I can only hope to God above that when his clearance paperwork comes around I can honestly say to the investigator he is in no way trustworthy and shouldn't work at a McDonald's lest he nuke Washington DC in the process of creating a Big Mac sandwich using the colored chart.  I'm not being mean.  He lies.  Often.  Either to save his skin or not.  He's untrustworthy and a bad worker, given too many breaks.  That's it.  Sorry, but it's the honest truth.  It turns out he's a good woodworker though, so there's that.  Maybe he should go build an ark for all the sh*tstorm he's going to cause?  Sad but true, friends.  Sad but true.

 

 

  One special log entry involved, "By the Grace of the Great Burrito".  These log entries go up to the Wing Command Post or higher echelons of governmental agencies, some clandestine, that he is well known for being what's known as a "re'tard."  He'll even go as far as to change your log entries to fit his style, which often include several amounts of random punctuation, upper and lower case characters, and some you have to download special ones from foreign character sets. 

 

 

 

 

 

For a few months I decided to add a special one I found that was a squirrel-shape to end his log entry for the day, as, indeed, he'd make squirrel sounds at random when it was really quiet, or smash-down a Gutenberg-Bible-sized tome on a desk to break the silence for no reason.  Annoyance pleased him.  He will not be missed.  I would, perhaps like it if he accidentally burned his hand in a tragic hot-fudge accident, perhaps at a Golden Corral, diving for his lost pork-chop with his fist in the chocolate fountain, then pulling the whole fountain on himself, though badly burned, satisfied with himself with a "heh heh heh" because he got to eat a lot of it during the crash like he one-upped the company somehow.

 

 

 

 

Lets begin some of the special Christmas "tails" GB spun as truth (and a few I'll make up.. you decide..)  If you guess which ones he actually told and which I made up, you win a cool $10 via PayPal.  Just answer your replies below along with your PayPal address..

 

 

 

1.  One time, long ago, GB spotted animal tracks in the snow in Alabama (because the snow is quite deep there, year-round of course).  Having superior, Aragorn-like Ranger skills, he knew immediately that these tracks were those lain by a Mountain Lion!  He hunted down the tracks at dusk and they led him into a cave opening.  He took out his toenail-cleaning, cheese-halving, everyday-duty, every-meal-cutting knife and went on in.  There, in the back of the cave was a She-Lioness!  To save the community, he went in, shaved the lioness with his knife and killed it right there.  The town heralded him as a hero to the county and he got a key to the city.

 

GB found the culprit!

 

 

 

 

2.  In a distant past, GB decided to buy a Honda CB 350 motorcycle.  Riding in the middle of the night down a deserted town square, he lost control, the motorcycle slid away and on his hind quarters scraped a mile and a half down the street where he came to rest just fine.  At that point he swore-off motorcycles and never looked back.

 

 

 

 

 

3.  GB picked up the fine daily sport of bicycling.  On his vegan bicycle he pedaled through the county park, enjoying the sights and sounds of delights in the trees and stayed on the path.  He enjoyed ringing the bicycle bell and his newly found selection of prize rocks he had found by the lakeside front in his basket, though he was always confused why the center truss-bar on the bike was so low compared to other guy's bikes, or why his was pink, but no matter.  The scent of the outside air filled his always-stuffed and snotty nostrils, perfuming them with the magic of nature when suddenly God decided to curse this abomination by giving a squirrel in a tree the power of The Secret of NIMH golden, holy fire like Mrs. Bigsby near the lee of the stone and jumped out of a tree like a John Woo film, complete with doves in slow-motion and jumped down GB's shirt and continuously bit him with the ferocity of only a God-empowered rodent might, causing GB to crash into everything at-once, peeing himself a little in the process.  GB then gave up all forms of exercise from that day on, and the Lord did grin (in thy mercy, amen.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

..still of the night still of the night still of the night...

4.  In the still of the night GB was working in a USAF installation when the ground antenna caused a fault, no longer tracking the satellite it was supposed to.  GB surrendered all responsibility as usual and had hardware reboot the computers that control the antenna but that didn't work.  He then did that 11 more times and it still didn't work.  The Director of Operations came in and demanded what he was going to do about it since he had his feet up on the desk at this point and decided a nice nap, snoring like Curly from The Three Stooges was delightfully appropriate.  GB's response was to probably give it another REEEEE-BOOT!  This didn't fix the problem, so instead he went right on having Hardware reboot the computer at the antenna until it finally didn't work still.  The Director of Operations explained that a ground-system engineer should only rely on hardware to reboot a computer if the engineer has given-up on all possible solutions, else what's the point in having an engineer "middle-man" when hardware could just do everything?  The engineer position therefore is invalid and a waste of money.  GB responded by attempting to REEEE-BOOT the director, but that didn't work.  He finally ran home and hid under his bed for 3 days.  This seemed to work, because when he came back, the antenna was working again somehow.  He chalked that one up to expertise!

 

"I is many brilliants!" - GB (2013)

 

 

 

 

5.  One late evening, in the hallway at work, GB shit his pants hard trying to let-out a massive fart.  During this he also snotted over his whole shirt.  He just sighed and rubbed the snot in.

 

I poop cupcakes!

 

 

 

 

 

6.  A co-worker was working with him  complaining GB didn't know what he was doing, rebooting everything, workstations, servers, pencils, lunch, etc.  GB got cross and went home in the middle of the day.  This is a violation of contractual obligation and he hid under his bed and slept for a while.  Later that day, he got a call from the site manager and recommended he not do that, so he came back and tried to reboot his co-worker but instead fell asleep, but not after destroying a work toilet stall by grabbing a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup package he put between his heels, ass-blasting the wall behind him, the bending-over causing exlosive gut-out-pressure!

 

I pooped and I don't know anything..

 

 

 

 

 

7.  A rowdy game of Nerf football began one evening when GB was pegged upside the head while unaware.  GB then took the Nerf mini-football and in-fist punched an airman in the nose with it, causing a bloody mess.  He then whipped an apple 50 feet across the room and it exploded.  Ah, all in good fun I guess.

 

 

 

 

 

 

8.  One time a neighbor's small dog had wandered into GB's yard of pure dirt and had relieved himself.  Feeling violated and outraged, GB caught the dog in broad daylight and whisked him away into his living room, where he got the clippers and went to work.  GB shaved the dog entirely, making a mighty mess everywhere, getting bit often (both parties) and accidentally shaving himself a bit in the process.  This, effectively, "reboot" the dog to teach it a lesson and let it go.  So wise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

9.  One fine Christmas Eve, GB was ordered to lay-out the Christmas lights for the house.  Since he's only 2 feet tall (and 5 feet wide) he could only reach to the lowest bushes and decorated those willy-nilly.  Later that evening, one of his several pugs peed on the wires and electrocuted its "cash and prizes", causing a short.  GB had to find a veterinarian on Christmas Eve night but instead went to a "Veteran" Hospital because close-enough!  Doctor indicated the dog would live.  There is legend that GB has no actual dogs and that he was the one who got electrocuted because he isn't allowed to pee in the house.

 

 

 

 

 

 

10.  One Halloween GB dressed up and wanted to get "the good candy".  It was raining but he felt there was better candy up I-25 in Denver so, taking his kid in-tow, walked towards traffic in the rain at night in-costume towards Denver, trucks blaring horns in warning, getting splashed and having a lot of near-misses until finally he made it to Denver, but it was the next day and no one gave him any candy because he had got there too late and adults were on their way to work.  GB then went to the nearest 7-11 and said "Trick or Treat" and bought all their candy and got a bus ride home where his kid was smart enough to have bailed early-on.  GB then made a fort out of the candy in his back yard and lived there for a week in the cold wet mud.  GB was in hog heaven, where he could scoot, toot, and not forget to poot.  When he was done, gave it all a RE-BOOT!

 

 

 

 

  Well, there you have it.  10 Stories about GB, and no more, I fear.  That's all of it.  Can you guess which ones were true?  If you want to play and take a guess, post below with your PayPal email address and if you're right, you get $10.

 

 

 

Merry Christmas, everyone!.. and remember what Charles Shultz said in It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown:  Just because you believe in it with all your heart doesn't make it real.  Sorry, Linus!  And that's a Christmas message!   Okay, not really.  Maybe a little bit.  Merry Christmas!

 

 

 

 

GB's real name?  I'll never tell!

 

Here's your chippy cheesecake...

 

Yes, it's Barbarianna from Kung Fury.

 

 

 

 

And one for the ladies...

 

 

Well hello there!

 

 

 

 

 

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And one for the undecided.. or very much decided, you decide..

 

Just a couple of guys, getting the job done!

I mean, yeah, sure there's doin'-it but that's not all of it!

 

 

Hahahaha!

 

 

 

OUT!

 

 

 

Everything Wrong with Star Wars VII : The Force Awakens

 

Everything wrong with Star Wars VII : The Force Awakens:

 

 

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That's it.  Here's your cheesecake..

 

 

 

Merry Christmas, everyone!

 

OUT.

Fear of the Dark

 

 

Don't fear, Michael..

Fear is a controlling force and for most makes people act unusually..

 

 

 

 

 

 

If I might quote from "Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy",

 

 

  Fear can sometimes be a useful emotion. For instance, let's say you're and astronaut on the Moon and you fear that your partner has been turned into Count Dracula. The next time he goes out for the moon pieces, wham!, you just slam the door behind him and blast-off. He might call you on the radio and say he's not Dracula, but you just say, "Think again, bat man."

 

 

  What's interesting here is that the fellow astronaut (or cosmonaut, no, wait, sorry!  Russia has never made it to the Moon; never sent a cosmo-fail there.  My bad!  Guess they're not up to 1969 technology yet!  Ha-ha!  RuSpace, do you even Moon?)  Where was I?  Oh yeah.  So the main character is afraid that his fellow astronaut has become Count Dracula.  This is a valid concern, and it probably has happened a lot, though undocumented.  Just look at Buzz Aldrin!  I mean, seriously!  Sheesh!  Jesus, people! 

 

 

 

  So anyway, the astronaut leaves a space-suited vampire on the Moon, which is pretty cool if you think about it, though the next explorers will have to contend with a lunar-vampire who will likely be quite cross (oops, pun).  How astronauts are turned into Count Dracula is uncertain, but that's the key here.  No one knows.  Fear is not really a thing, it's in our minds.

 

 

Thirsty, Casey?

  We can be stressed-out over various things, like going to the dentist.  Unless you're a clean-tooth fetishist (such as most dental hygienists) you're probably going to have a bit of plaque of some kind, or perhaps a filling is needed.  We fuss over the potential likelihood for pain for the scraping and some of the X-Rays, "Hey, is that 16 or 17 you just took?"  (Note*  The actual amount per X-Ray at a dentist is about 0.02 mSv and you really don't have to worry about anything under 20 mSv at an extended amount of time (like a few hours) vs. 0.02.  

 

One of America's last Rated-X films, Robocop.  "Help me!"  "Get away from me man!"  "Help.. me...!"

 

 

  

The slogan tune, "Duck and Cover" is a delight to save countless children
from radioactive doom!  "Is this how we die, daddy?"

A half-second  at 0.02 mSv is non-dangerous as background radiation varies at about that level anyway, and as all space kids know, it's the exposure time more-so than the level.)  The bleeding, the Bill Cosby concern of "Smoke-buh.. I-buh smell-buh SMOKE-buh!" (or if you're a Buh-buh Kinsella, a lippy grade-school fellow-student from 1979).  We fear the potential for pain and suffering and we work ourselves up about it.  Sometimes we're right, sometimes not, but we actually add suffering to ourselves by worrying and fearing about it.

 

 

 

Someone's gonna have a case of the "hotpants"!

People have sleepless nights.  I've had a few.  Sometimes it's rational, like worrying that if you fail at your job, countless lives will be lost because of you.  In my line of work, an indirect cause-and-effect can be seen, and sometimes you've passed that ball over and someone else dropped it and you're powerless to watch the aftermath.  This kind of thing is frustrating and adds tension and drama. 

 

Me-owww!  Kitty kitty!

 

 

  Some worry about why Miss Kitka is not eating her new kitty-food you got her and if she's going to be alright, until you realize that Julie Newmar is not a kitty-cat but a real person and you should probably untie her before the police arrive. 

 

Miss Kitka is ready for you, Mister Wayne.

 

 

  Some worry about burglars (ham or otherwise, and yes, the Hamburglar is real and there's no way to stop him because he's immune to lasers and nukes and acid splash through Bangladeshian vitriolage as the Hamburglar has fought the Acid Creature and is the only living being that has won against it [documented in Project Bluebook and MK-Ultra]).  Sometimes sleeplessness is irrational, like concern for if you left the sink on when you just checked it, or what socks to wear tomorrow.

 

Fear me when you look into the night sky!  I am immortality!  Bwahahaha!  Hamburglar, do you even burger?

 

 

Some people deal with fear by taking a massive DUMP.

People respond to fear in different ways, but usually it's an activator for motive on a physical level, even though the concept of fear itself is not.  We fear a potentiality, a non-reality (as of yet).  Sometimes it's good such that we can pre-react to it but most of the time this is not the case.

 

HappybirthdayPaulie!

 

  If you fear your neighborhood's crime-rate is going up, would buying firearms be a good choice?  Well, you'll work yourself up into a froth thinking about that all day, especially if you have a family.  You'll worry a worst-case scenario and buy a revolver to even the odds but one could argue you're just "upping the ante".  If you brandish a firearm at a crook who's intention was to make-off with some silverware, well, now you've given him not choice but to defend his own life in-kind.  Usually crooks want a quick grab-and-go and are not the Buffalo Bills of the Silence of the Lambs variety (sadly).

Got lotion?

 

  Some people just simply take-off when a cop asks them for their ID card.  Some of those are riddled with guilt from crimes undetected previously, though often from the fear that there's no true justice and they're just victims and try to escape to "even the odds" so they at least have some kind of chance instead of a probable beat-down and arrest.  This is probably what a lot of runners think in these instances I warrant.

 

You'll find the children on the Moon with my People, copper!

 

  People vote in fear as well, and that's a delicious subject I'll let the reader ponder for a while.  The non-scientific respond by way of potential fear of climate change through mankind's efforts though haven't worked-out the science behind it, taking word from paid-off fear-mongering scientists who grudgingly admit that there could be a very small percentage that mankind has any global impact on the stratosphere (other than space-lift and nukes).  Tropospheric?  Sure.  Global (stratospheric) almost none.  Look to the Sun for that issue, and the Milankovitch Cycle and non-even orbital patterns.

 

 

 

Fear is based on lack of knowledge.  Certainly it's an eventuality, never an actual thing. You're never afraid of something happening right now.  You're afraid of what might be.  If someone is drilling-out your tooth, you're not afraid of that, though you might be in pain, and that's a different thing.  You might be afraid that during the drilling the dentist (or psychopath) will screw-up and then you'll have issues.  You really don't have time to worry about the car-accident that's happening right now, you're experiencing it, though if you have time in that accident you might worry again about the future of your insurance railroading you or if you or your passenger might survive.  Again, eventualities.  Possible situations.  Fear is not real, it's the concern of the future, immediate or otherwise.

 

Okay, the clown here is a concern, I agree.

 

  Ultimately, fear is in our minds.  It only exists there, and we make it the monster that it is.  Sometimes it's good, as in the case of astronaut Dracula, though being immortal has its perks I'm sure.  We can shoot a kid in a neighborhood-watch volunteer job because of a fear of something (though in a fairly recent case because his head was being bashed-in when approached, though that bashing was possibly a fear-based response as well).  We can buy an armory of guns in fear of the surrounding community perceived as a threat.  We can amass nuclear armaments as a nation for the same reasons.  Fear can prepare us for an inevitability, but we also are affected negatively towards that inevitability in various ways.  We don't handle it like Spock might, logically, or a computer that accepts its fate, we deny it, we fight it.  Animals can't.  They panic, and bite out of fear.

Kitten uses "mew-mew-bite".  Roll a 1d6 for damage, roll for saving-throw and initiative.

 

  I used to take some small pleasure in trapping a computer in a corner of some Commodore 64 game back in the early 1980's to see how it would respond.  I found over time it would make logical choices and eventually lose.  This became less fun, torturing my opponent with a chaotic overpowering of some-sort, giving fewer and fewer options until it was trapped or doomed, teasing the enemy like a cat maliciously might out of fun.  That's pretty chaotic-evil, even though it was only a computer opponent!  One could argue no harm, no foul, I mean, it's only bits, right?  Well.. the intent is there, and that's the scary part, no?  The malice?  I look at that youth with some scrutiny, myself, as if I was an alien to my own being. 

 

 

 

  I think I may have terrorized a few kitty cats a bit too, chased a few, set alarm-traps for a few, just some un-nerving stuff, really, no real harm, just psychological.  I'm sure Karma's got her revenge by now in some form, my life not a bed of thornless roses.  The point here is the computer didn't panic (though there is a thing called "Kernel Panic" but that's something else).  The computer made its best choices and pressed on like a German girlfriend might.  Cold and calculating and clear-headed.  I sometimes wonder why we can't be that way, but that abstinence from fear.. does it make us less human?

 

Gonna get me dat pussay!

 

 

  People have phobias, natural-ish fears of things, like spiders or snakes, heights or robots that come and take your medicine away from you.  These may be genetic-memory fears, but some are more abstract and the phobia-list goes on, such as clowns, balloons, public spaces, undead, Space-Draculas, your significant other leaving you, someone you care about dying.. it goes on. 

 

 

Erin Gray as Buck Rogers' Col. Wilma Deering loves her some of dat space vampire goodness, yeah... yeah..

 

 

  Parents have a natural genetic makeup to chemically want to make sure their kids are safe to fault.  Parents can almost never avoid this feeling; it's ingrained naturally and is how the species continues lest we leave baby at the market and go home forgetting all about that or caring whatsoever.  Some people voted Obama, dooming their kids to a poor economy and cruel heath care system and praise Satan I guess, or Santana, I forget which.

 

 

Help us, we're slave-horses to these power-demons!  I'm so happy I have no life now!  Kill me!  Kill me now!

That.. that boy just had me murdered three school teachers!  He wants me to kill again!  We have no choice!

I love my kids!  I have no choice!  My kids are the best!  I love them.. love them.. love them.. I can't feel my hands!

 

   Some people flirt with fear, such as motorcyclist racers (such as myself), trying to conquer it, overcome it, though the chemicals rush-in to try to argue with you and you try to fight fear itself, created by your own mind!  Sure, the danger is real, but we have that fight-or-flight response, or a third of being paralyzed temporarily, slack-jawed.  It takes effort to respond coolly. 

 

Are you afraid you're gonna like riding bikes with Horatio Fluffy McFagg'n'stuff the Third?

 

 

  Regardless of our own enemy within, fear can affect us and not let us think straight.  Such things of the threat of pain, doom, suffering, etc., make us knee-jerk respond and worry ourselves sick or worse on a psychosomatic level, and we can lose sleep, and ultimately suffer for something that doesn't even exist yet.  Funny thing, fear, and people's heads can get stepped-on in the process.  Parents over-react to child-preservation.  Haves load-up weaponry against have-nots, buy security systems, guards, ninjas, Hamburglar-thwarting devices, etc.

 

When Gandalf was talking about the "Secret Fire" in Khazad-dûm against the Balrog, he was talking about the Hamburglar.

 

 

  So.. what's the point of all this?  Well, try to realize if you're reacting to an internal fear.  Even if it's an inevitability, as the Hitchhiker's Guide suggests, Don't Panic!  Look at your options and choose a good one as best you can like a good old Commodore 64, all CLEAR HEADED-LIKE! 

 

Here, Bob Serochin made a tactical error with his Ford Aerostar's windows as a defense against cheetahs.

 

  As for the astronaut?  He made the right choice.  I looked into it.  His partner did get turned into Count Dracula, and that's why we've never been back on the Moon, because Count Dracula's waiting there, and he's hungry.  Look out!

 

 

Dracula 3000: The Motion Picutre ME-OWWW!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Now you get your cheesecake for being good and reading the whole thing...

 

Amy!  You can't eat candy in BED!  Sheesh!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

..since it's Star Wars time.. and one for the ladies...

 

 

Hellooooo nurse!

 

 

 

 

and one for the undecided..

 

 

 

 

 

 

I'd do me..