There are many things I am obsesses about. My novel that I'm writing, certain video games, my hatred for specific random things like Gravity and Penguins, Pie, my bardic skills, my lack of soccer skills, and my own irresistible self.
One of the strangest things I'm obsessed about it this video.
I don't even deal with too many of these things, and yet, I feel it fits my life SO WELL.
I wonder why?
ON a side note, my greatest obsession is this blog. But I've been finding it increasingly hard to come up with new topics to rant about. So, If I just leave each day with a somewhat humorous side-note, then don't feel too offended. Most posts will now be formatted in this way: Short, sweet.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Gravity
I really hate Gravity. You know why? CAUSE IT KEEPS ME FROM FLYING!
The way I see it, if Gravity didn't exist, I could fly. And if I could fly, I could become a much better fighter by 100%. Where's my logic in that, you ask? Well, I'll use my all-purpose 'Flying is Better Than Walking" explanation: The first Kingdom Hearts.
When Sora gets magic pixie dust sprinkled on him, he starts flyin' around like he's some magic pixie dust freak! He can attack his enemies from the air and ground! He levels up like forty times! It's insanity!
This is why I want to fly. Oh, I've tried more conventional methods, like catching fairies and shaking them all over me, but in reality, pixie dust is a laxative, not a magical flying apparatus. I've tried creating personal hover/rocket machines, but they just explode. And people always wonder why I'm complaining about my back...
It's obvious to me that the easiest way to be able to fly is to destroy Gravity. That's why I hate it.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
The way I see it, if Gravity didn't exist, I could fly. And if I could fly, I could become a much better fighter by 100%. Where's my logic in that, you ask? Well, I'll use my all-purpose 'Flying is Better Than Walking" explanation: The first Kingdom Hearts.
When Sora gets magic pixie dust sprinkled on him, he starts flyin' around like he's some magic pixie dust freak! He can attack his enemies from the air and ground! He levels up like forty times! It's insanity!
This is why I want to fly. Oh, I've tried more conventional methods, like catching fairies and shaking them all over me, but in reality, pixie dust is a laxative, not a magical flying apparatus. I've tried creating personal hover/rocket machines, but they just explode. And people always wonder why I'm complaining about my back...
It's obvious to me that the easiest way to be able to fly is to destroy Gravity. That's why I hate it.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Hilarity
Yesterday, I was walking along the main street of Urbia when I saw a Cow. I was hungry, and I have quite a few ranks in cooking, so I took my Nun-Chucks out and started to beat the cow.
The Cow just stared at me.
"Hmmmm," I said aloud. I said it aloud mainly because I didn't want to bother moving my hand up to the mouse and moving it to hit the Italics button. But I digress.
I took my Machete out and began to chop at it.
The Cow just stared at me.
"Hmmmm," I said thoughtfully. "Though this next scene would be much more effective in a Looney Toons Montage, let's do it!"
I then attempted to blast, scare, smack, poke, milk, explode, steamroll, and declare war the cow.
The Cow just stared at me.
That was when I noticed that it was a statue. It was also then that George the Yellow walked up and stuttered, "That's a Statue, dude."
The bacon was god that night. George was nowhere to be found.*
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
*HA! gotcha! We didn't turn George into Bacon! That's sick! SOrry for missing a post yesterday!
The Cow just stared at me.
"Hmmmm," I said aloud. I said it aloud mainly because I didn't want to bother moving my hand up to the mouse and moving it to hit the Italics button. But I digress.
I took my Machete out and began to chop at it.
The Cow just stared at me.
"Hmmmm," I said thoughtfully. "Though this next scene would be much more effective in a Looney Toons Montage, let's do it!"
I then attempted to blast, scare, smack, poke, milk, explode, steamroll, and declare war the cow.
The Cow just stared at me.
That was when I noticed that it was a statue. It was also then that George the Yellow walked up and stuttered, "That's a Statue, dude."
The bacon was god that night. George was nowhere to be found.*
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
*HA! gotcha! We didn't turn George into Bacon! That's sick! SOrry for missing a post yesterday!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Awesome Viking Life
"A Viking Life"
an incomplete parody of "Semi-Charmed Life" by Third Eye Blind.
(Schwa)
Doo-doo-doo, Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-doo-doo, Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-doo-doo, Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-doo-doo
I'm fighting and I'm killing, I'm smiling,
They're living, they're dying, by my Nun-Chucks
watchin' my Nun-Chucks, Ovation, my own motivation
I come down hard, they run away from me
always makes me smile like a hug from you
slew ever what we want to slew, then got on a loo
Keep on killing what we cut through,
One kick to the head that attacks you
And I steer the ship like a chieftain with a pur-
pose, duck under a vine when you are in the mursh,
Here comes a Ninja, club him down,
We shout our cheer in rage, I sing
(Chorus)
Don't need nothin' else
Olaf has got this,
A Viking Kinda Life, Baby, baby,
Don't need nothin' else,
I'm not listening when you say,
Give up
(Schwa)
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Sorry bout the crap
I was in a terrible mood yesterday, so that explains the whole, 'That's How I feel' post yesterday, so I apologize for the incident yesterday, and I would have done it yesterday, but I felt too much like crap yesterday.
BING BING BING! I just set a world record for saying the word 'Yesterday' correctly in a sentence more times than ANY ONE ELSE EVER! Five, count 'em, five.
Anyway, Why was I feeling so down in the toilet yesterday? Well I'll tell you.
I have learned during this soccer season so far that I am way better than everyone on the MIS team (Man I Stink Team.) However, I am way worse than everyone on the TAT team (Totally awesome team.) AND, I've also learned that the coach for TAT wants me to play a lot for the MIS team, and that he wants me to attend the TAT games to support the team I merely practice with.
SO, the MIS game started. I was starting on defense, doin' perfect, when BLAMMO! My compatriots let a goal in. "WE CAN KICK IT TO EM STILL!" I yelled. The Ninjas on the other team laughed. My Viking teammates crumbled.
We lost 9 to Negative one. How did we achieve such a dismal score, you ask? Well, my glorious teammate Ivan the Infuriated punched one of the Ninjas in the mouth, giving himself a red card for sixteen games and giving an automatic point to Team Ninja. It was terrible.
For the next two hours, I sat on the bench with the TAT team, watching all the non-benchers kick butt. We... I mean They, won 14-1. And though I can go around telling you and everyone else how I won, I didn't. I watched them win.
If I don't contribute in any way, shape, or form, I don't feel like I should call it a win.
It's been so long since I have.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
BING BING BING! I just set a world record for saying the word 'Yesterday' correctly in a sentence more times than ANY ONE ELSE EVER! Five, count 'em, five.
Anyway, Why was I feeling so down in the toilet yesterday? Well I'll tell you.
I have learned during this soccer season so far that I am way better than everyone on the MIS team (Man I Stink Team.) However, I am way worse than everyone on the TAT team (Totally awesome team.) AND, I've also learned that the coach for TAT wants me to play a lot for the MIS team, and that he wants me to attend the TAT games to support the team I merely practice with.
SO, the MIS game started. I was starting on defense, doin' perfect, when BLAMMO! My compatriots let a goal in. "WE CAN KICK IT TO EM STILL!" I yelled. The Ninjas on the other team laughed. My Viking teammates crumbled.
We lost 9 to Negative one. How did we achieve such a dismal score, you ask? Well, my glorious teammate Ivan the Infuriated punched one of the Ninjas in the mouth, giving himself a red card for sixteen games and giving an automatic point to Team Ninja. It was terrible.
For the next two hours, I sat on the bench with the TAT team, watching all the non-benchers kick butt. We... I mean They, won 14-1. And though I can go around telling you and everyone else how I won, I didn't. I watched them win.
If I don't contribute in any way, shape, or form, I don't feel like I should call it a win.
It's been so long since I have.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
All posts, GATHER!
Noobs of Double-Fisted Flowerbutt wear hammers. Edition Profuse: Carrots, headrests, destroyed workers barf bane. Metal Penguins kill Joe.
Explorering rum girls fable potential. Cancer dates upperclassmen leeches FOREVER!
eBay spitting. Stoppit! Urban GPSs stab fish money with feminizer supervillians. Almost, stapler, anti-viking Cosgrove bored of Ninjas.
Cockroach Slyleaf Chompsky BBQing sweat clock for pickets. Miserably out-classed, demon levels crack-headed Urgur when Hagar circles NIGHTMARES!
Unicorn Salemen cried down Laotogo right.
No raft, JOY Dwarves master hunting action. Awkward...
Doge revolution happened somwhere, Brootar. Hatred loved flaming skirts after fart Eighth tears.
Stungun pipes turn magic ribbit ships from Urbia, Unsophisticated hundred bulls got no style.
Barney Hearts Beauty!
File stopped exciting Monkey rock.
Pie dating contestant Knight now; Blood alive! Awesome fish-sticks failed yet something rescheduled braces. We needed Ninjas today. Again, I is keeping comedy impossibly Trilby.
Man, Snickers lied, obviously. Stupid Amazons copied my non-prejudiced Waiters. Why?
aYUP. Writing both song ex
Olaf.
The.
BAAAAALD!
Explorering rum girls fable potential. Cancer dates upperclassmen leeches FOREVER!
eBay spitting. Stoppit! Urban GPSs stab fish money with feminizer supervillians. Almost, stapler, anti-viking Cosgrove bored of Ninjas.
Cockroach Slyleaf Chompsky BBQing sweat clock for pickets. Miserably out-classed, demon levels crack-headed Urgur when Hagar circles NIGHTMARES!
Unicorn Salemen cried down Laotogo right.
No raft, JOY Dwarves master hunting action. Awkward...
Doge revolution happened somwhere, Brootar. Hatred loved flaming skirts after fart Eighth tears.
Stungun pipes turn magic ribbit ships from Urbia, Unsophisticated hundred bulls got no style.
Barney Hearts Beauty!
File stopped exciting Monkey rock.
Pie dating contestant Knight now; Blood alive! Awesome fish-sticks failed yet something rescheduled braces. We needed Ninjas today. Again, I is keeping comedy impossibly Trilby.
Man, Snickers lied, obviously. Stupid Amazons copied my non-prejudiced Waiters. Why?
aYUP. Writing both song ex
Olaf.
The.
BAAAAALD!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
The Quest
Gregory the Hairy called my Posse and I to his captain's room yesterday and informed us that the Bloodhound II hasn't been keeping up with its Questing Quota. Therefore, we needed to go on a quest.
"What is the nature of this Quest?" Soren the Hard-of-Hearing Scribe intoned.
"I don't know!" Gregory snapped. "Just go on on already!"
Like all good quests, we needed a purpose, despite the strange misgivings of our chieftain. Not entirely sure why we embarked on this particular quest, but we decided to go and destroy a huge Goblin family, one that had been giving us some trouble recently.
We then needed to classify what classes we were, since, for all questers, there needs to be obvious class differences for some, none for others. After much arguing, it was decided:
Erik the Noisy: Fighter
Omar the Bold: Fighter
Lulu the Loud: Fighter
George the Yellow: Fighter
Phil the Conceited: Fighter
Soren: Mage
Me: Bard
With our classes evenly distributed, with many different ones to complement any task we might need to do, we set out.
We first went throught the Mines of Airom to meet with a wizened old Uncle Sam, who had the key to what we needed to do to destroy the Goblin Family.
"Their Ruler is connected by an object of magical prowess; if it is cast into the Waters of Lake Fun-Fun, it will be destroyed, and the entire goblin family will fall."
"What is the object?" Soren inquired.
"A magic saltine cracker," Uncle Sam replied.
It was then that we were attacked by a massive black creature, made entirely out of water. It was a Gefsot, and it chased us across a rickety chained bridge that led to the outside world. Soren sacrificed himself to give us enough time to escape, and we did, to his death. Uncle Sam then summoned a large group of feathers, which nearly killed us, and when we got out of the feathery mess, Uncle Sam was gone.
Our trip took us into the heart of Hobbit lands, where we consulted with their wise, feminine leader, whose name was Penelope. After we discussed with Penelope on where the Head Goblin's Saltine cracker was, which, we learned, was located in the highest points of heck, Erik the Noisy became captivated by her charms, and much making out commenced. Lulu the Loud, enraged by the site, killed the Hobbit Ruler dead, and we had to escape in order to keep our hides from being killed by the angry Hobbit masses. Sadly, Erik died protecting us from the Hobbits.
It was then that Soren caught up with us, claiming that he had defeated the Gefsot without any sort of trouble. He also wanted us to start calling him Soren the White from then on, but we refrained, instead continuing to call him Soren the Hard-of-Hearing Scribe. I especially refused; I hate the color white.
Customary to most quests, it was decided that one of us must be a traitor. After much deliberation and back-stabbing, the lot feull upon Omar, who claimed his innocence. After we killed him anyway, it was discovered that the traitor was Uncle Sam, who had been the one telling the hobbits of our location the whole time. We were captured, and dragged all the way back to Hobbit lands. It was then that Uncle Sam freed us, and using some fancy manuvering, got us free. He then gave Phil an Ancient sword, telling him that its name was Sadboom, and that its name really didn't matter to the plot, anyhow. Uncle Sam disappeared once more.
We received a report shortly thereafter that the Saltine Crakcer had been spotted at a local port, in the hands of an unsuspecting Drow. Having pursued and found the Drow, he gave battle with us. We were soon shortly beaten, with one of our number dying. It was discovered that Uncle Sam had caught up with us again, and had taken the blow. After we exchanged goods for the saltine cracker, the Drow disappeared.
All that remained was the taking of the Saltine Cracker to Lake Fun-Fun. Thousands of miles of desert faced us, however. The desert was full of dangers, the most common of which being gigantic worms that would swallow anyone or thing alive, should they hear anything move on the surface. There was only one thing to do.
We turned around and walked the other way.
After walking a thousand miles to the edge of Lake Fun-Fun, we discovered that an evil human king was waging war on the peoples of the south, who were all gathered together in the stronghold of the Cow-People. We decided to give them what for, and were soundly trounced. We were seperated, with Me, and Lulu hangin' with the Cow People, and George, Phil, and Soren hangin' with the everyone else. Soren was in posession of the Saltine Cracker, and he and his forces of Monkey, Rat, and Pig people were being pushed away from the lake. It became too much for George, however, and he was left in a major city, never to be heard of again. As I led the Cow-People through enemy lines to reunite with the rest of the South, Soren discussed a magic force capability with the leader of the Monkey people. Apparently, if you could gather all seven of the Brownie Ball Zs and gather them together in one place, your wish woud be granted.
Soren contacted the three of us at the other end by means of Pigeon, telling us to go and gather the Brownie Ball Zs. We left the Cow-People in charge of Uncle Sam, who, as it turned out, had never died, and had been following us in the garb of a very attractive Female Panda. When I discovered that the female Panda did not exist, I set out on a side quest to discover my true love, while Lulu forged on with her searching of the Brownie Ball Zs on her own. Soren and Phil soon had alll of the peoples of the South reunited, but Phil didn't care, which had split the peoples of the south into four factions, which all soon killed each other off. The evil King turned out to be named Tryanicus, who had, in turn, turned out to be the one who REALLY cuased the four peoples of the south to kill each other. Soren and Phil tried to engage the evil King in a duel, but the King killed Phil, as he was too powerful to beat. Soren discovered, in the battle, that Tyranicus' power came from stolen Dragon's Hearts, and was sucking the energy out of them in order to give himself unstoppable power. Soren escaped, and tried to contact me or Lulu.
I had found my real love, whose name was Rynalredtywreckagal, (Who I called R2-D2 for short) and was now having great make-out sessions with her while trying to find Lulu. Lulu had found six of the seven Brownie Ball Zs, and was now tracking down Uncle Sam, who was rumored to have fled with one during the insurrection of the fours peoples of the south. R2 and I caught up with Uncle Sam, who, in turn, gave battle with us. After we were all sorely defeated, and R2 was killed, he revealed himself to be none other than Thor!
Gladly giving us the last Brownie Ball Z, we reunited with Soren. Thor told us that we needed to pick one person so that the great Chef of the Sky would know which of us's wish to grant. After much deliberation, in which I clonked both of my comrades out, I summoned the Chef.
The Chef read my thoughts and summoned my ultimate wish: a life-size, reincarnated R2, whose body had been turned into Pie! COnfused by this transformation, however, R2 left me for a cake, and, heartbroken, I took the Saltine Cracker and threw myself into Lake Fun-FUn. The Goblin armies died, but I didn't, considering how the waters of Lake Fun-Fun weren't that deep. As the Goblin armies exploded and died, I, Lulu, and Soren were carried off to Rodnog by Eagles, where we discovered that the people had discovered Seven more Brownie Ball Zs. I quickly gave them to Lulu, summoning the Great Chef, who read her thoughts and gave her he wish:
That the whole thing had simply been a daydream, in my mind.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
"What is the nature of this Quest?" Soren the Hard-of-Hearing Scribe intoned.
"I don't know!" Gregory snapped. "Just go on on already!"
Like all good quests, we needed a purpose, despite the strange misgivings of our chieftain. Not entirely sure why we embarked on this particular quest, but we decided to go and destroy a huge Goblin family, one that had been giving us some trouble recently.
We then needed to classify what classes we were, since, for all questers, there needs to be obvious class differences for some, none for others. After much arguing, it was decided:
Erik the Noisy: Fighter
Omar the Bold: Fighter
Lulu the Loud: Fighter
George the Yellow: Fighter
Phil the Conceited: Fighter
Soren: Mage
Me: Bard
With our classes evenly distributed, with many different ones to complement any task we might need to do, we set out.
We first went throught the Mines of Airom to meet with a wizened old Uncle Sam, who had the key to what we needed to do to destroy the Goblin Family.
"Their Ruler is connected by an object of magical prowess; if it is cast into the Waters of Lake Fun-Fun, it will be destroyed, and the entire goblin family will fall."
"What is the object?" Soren inquired.
"A magic saltine cracker," Uncle Sam replied.
It was then that we were attacked by a massive black creature, made entirely out of water. It was a Gefsot, and it chased us across a rickety chained bridge that led to the outside world. Soren sacrificed himself to give us enough time to escape, and we did, to his death. Uncle Sam then summoned a large group of feathers, which nearly killed us, and when we got out of the feathery mess, Uncle Sam was gone.
Our trip took us into the heart of Hobbit lands, where we consulted with their wise, feminine leader, whose name was Penelope. After we discussed with Penelope on where the Head Goblin's Saltine cracker was, which, we learned, was located in the highest points of heck, Erik the Noisy became captivated by her charms, and much making out commenced. Lulu the Loud, enraged by the site, killed the Hobbit Ruler dead, and we had to escape in order to keep our hides from being killed by the angry Hobbit masses. Sadly, Erik died protecting us from the Hobbits.
It was then that Soren caught up with us, claiming that he had defeated the Gefsot without any sort of trouble. He also wanted us to start calling him Soren the White from then on, but we refrained, instead continuing to call him Soren the Hard-of-Hearing Scribe. I especially refused; I hate the color white.
Customary to most quests, it was decided that one of us must be a traitor. After much deliberation and back-stabbing, the lot feull upon Omar, who claimed his innocence. After we killed him anyway, it was discovered that the traitor was Uncle Sam, who had been the one telling the hobbits of our location the whole time. We were captured, and dragged all the way back to Hobbit lands. It was then that Uncle Sam freed us, and using some fancy manuvering, got us free. He then gave Phil an Ancient sword, telling him that its name was Sadboom, and that its name really didn't matter to the plot, anyhow. Uncle Sam disappeared once more.
We received a report shortly thereafter that the Saltine Crakcer had been spotted at a local port, in the hands of an unsuspecting Drow. Having pursued and found the Drow, he gave battle with us. We were soon shortly beaten, with one of our number dying. It was discovered that Uncle Sam had caught up with us again, and had taken the blow. After we exchanged goods for the saltine cracker, the Drow disappeared.
All that remained was the taking of the Saltine Cracker to Lake Fun-Fun. Thousands of miles of desert faced us, however. The desert was full of dangers, the most common of which being gigantic worms that would swallow anyone or thing alive, should they hear anything move on the surface. There was only one thing to do.
We turned around and walked the other way.
After walking a thousand miles to the edge of Lake Fun-Fun, we discovered that an evil human king was waging war on the peoples of the south, who were all gathered together in the stronghold of the Cow-People. We decided to give them what for, and were soundly trounced. We were seperated, with Me, and Lulu hangin' with the Cow People, and George, Phil, and Soren hangin' with the everyone else. Soren was in posession of the Saltine Cracker, and he and his forces of Monkey, Rat, and Pig people were being pushed away from the lake. It became too much for George, however, and he was left in a major city, never to be heard of again. As I led the Cow-People through enemy lines to reunite with the rest of the South, Soren discussed a magic force capability with the leader of the Monkey people. Apparently, if you could gather all seven of the Brownie Ball Zs and gather them together in one place, your wish woud be granted.
Soren contacted the three of us at the other end by means of Pigeon, telling us to go and gather the Brownie Ball Zs. We left the Cow-People in charge of Uncle Sam, who, as it turned out, had never died, and had been following us in the garb of a very attractive Female Panda. When I discovered that the female Panda did not exist, I set out on a side quest to discover my true love, while Lulu forged on with her searching of the Brownie Ball Zs on her own. Soren and Phil soon had alll of the peoples of the South reunited, but Phil didn't care, which had split the peoples of the south into four factions, which all soon killed each other off. The evil King turned out to be named Tryanicus, who had, in turn, turned out to be the one who REALLY cuased the four peoples of the south to kill each other. Soren and Phil tried to engage the evil King in a duel, but the King killed Phil, as he was too powerful to beat. Soren discovered, in the battle, that Tyranicus' power came from stolen Dragon's Hearts, and was sucking the energy out of them in order to give himself unstoppable power. Soren escaped, and tried to contact me or Lulu.
I had found my real love, whose name was Rynalredtywreckagal, (Who I called R2-D2 for short) and was now having great make-out sessions with her while trying to find Lulu. Lulu had found six of the seven Brownie Ball Zs, and was now tracking down Uncle Sam, who was rumored to have fled with one during the insurrection of the fours peoples of the south. R2 and I caught up with Uncle Sam, who, in turn, gave battle with us. After we were all sorely defeated, and R2 was killed, he revealed himself to be none other than Thor!
Gladly giving us the last Brownie Ball Z, we reunited with Soren. Thor told us that we needed to pick one person so that the great Chef of the Sky would know which of us's wish to grant. After much deliberation, in which I clonked both of my comrades out, I summoned the Chef.
The Chef read my thoughts and summoned my ultimate wish: a life-size, reincarnated R2, whose body had been turned into Pie! COnfused by this transformation, however, R2 left me for a cake, and, heartbroken, I took the Saltine Cracker and threw myself into Lake Fun-FUn. The Goblin armies died, but I didn't, considering how the waters of Lake Fun-Fun weren't that deep. As the Goblin armies exploded and died, I, Lulu, and Soren were carried off to Rodnog by Eagles, where we discovered that the people had discovered Seven more Brownie Ball Zs. I quickly gave them to Lulu, summoning the Great Chef, who read her thoughts and gave her he wish:
That the whole thing had simply been a daydream, in my mind.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Battle Cries
Sometimes, when you leap into battle, you just gotta scream a battle cry. You all know my customary one, which is what I always scream at the end of my posts. But, sometimes, just screaming your name doesn't cut it. You gotta scream something else.
Here are some effective battle cries you should learn, memorize, and use:
CHIIIIIIIICKEN TEEEEEEEEENDEEEEEEEERS!
Wait, before I go on, why? Why would you shout chicken tenders? Its simple; if your fighting someone, and they shout, "I like puppies," It's going to make you stop and think, Why does he like puppies? And then, you have your face fulla fist.
IIIIIIIIIIIII LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE PUPPIES!
BILL COSBY IS FUNNYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!
CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIG CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN"T BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITE!
You know, random stuff, something like that. I think this describes it best, though.
But the best Battle Cry of all time is one word, not drawn out, yelled, or screamed. It my Chieftain, Gregory the Hairy's battle cry. I know it works, too.
The best example I can think of is when his crew, me included, drove his ship, the Bloodhound II, right into the middle of a ferocious battle between a buncha Ninjas, Dentists, Waiters, and Leprechauns. They were blocking our passage, so Gregory shouted, "EVERYONE BELOW DECK, NOW!" Everyone ignored him. Gregory strode to the front of the boat and roared, "ALL RIGHT, YOU WILLY-WIVERED BUNCHA CONRN-COBBED PANSIES!" Gregory is VERY good at insults, by the way. "IF YOU DO NOT GET OUT OF MY WAY, I WILL KILL YOU ALL SINGLE-HANDEDLY!"
The Ninjas, Dentists, Waiters, and Leprechauns all looked at each other and grinned. A common, egotistical enemy! What fun! they all thought. WIth a savage roar, they stormed the boat. Before they could touch it, however, Gregory opened his mouth and uttered his battlecry.
"Chitlins," he said.
All the attacking attackers stopped.
"Chitlins?" a Ninja said.
"That's what he said," a Leprechaun said.
"How odd," a Dentists said.
"Indubitably so," a Waiter intoned. "Let us contemplate this quandry for a few seconds more."
Meanwhile, Gregory was bashing the heads in of every single one of them. Soon, his hammer was bloody, and the stack o' bodies piled around him was high.
"Let's go," he sighed.
We left.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Here are some effective battle cries you should learn, memorize, and use:
CHIIIIIIIICKEN TEEEEEEEEENDEEEEEEEERS!
Wait, before I go on, why? Why would you shout chicken tenders? Its simple; if your fighting someone, and they shout, "I like puppies," It's going to make you stop and think, Why does he like puppies? And then, you have your face fulla fist.
IIIIIIIIIIIII LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE PUPPIES!
BILL COSBY IS FUNNYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!
CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIG CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN"T BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITE!
You know, random stuff, something like that. I think this describes it best, though.
But the best Battle Cry of all time is one word, not drawn out, yelled, or screamed. It my Chieftain, Gregory the Hairy's battle cry. I know it works, too.
The best example I can think of is when his crew, me included, drove his ship, the Bloodhound II, right into the middle of a ferocious battle between a buncha Ninjas, Dentists, Waiters, and Leprechauns. They were blocking our passage, so Gregory shouted, "EVERYONE BELOW DECK, NOW!" Everyone ignored him. Gregory strode to the front of the boat and roared, "ALL RIGHT, YOU WILLY-WIVERED BUNCHA CONRN-COBBED PANSIES!" Gregory is VERY good at insults, by the way. "IF YOU DO NOT GET OUT OF MY WAY, I WILL KILL YOU ALL SINGLE-HANDEDLY!"
The Ninjas, Dentists, Waiters, and Leprechauns all looked at each other and grinned. A common, egotistical enemy! What fun! they all thought. WIth a savage roar, they stormed the boat. Before they could touch it, however, Gregory opened his mouth and uttered his battlecry.
"Chitlins," he said.
All the attacking attackers stopped.
"Chitlins?" a Ninja said.
"That's what he said," a Leprechaun said.
"How odd," a Dentists said.
"Indubitably so," a Waiter intoned. "Let us contemplate this quandry for a few seconds more."
Meanwhile, Gregory was bashing the heads in of every single one of them. Soon, his hammer was bloody, and the stack o' bodies piled around him was high.
"Let's go," he sighed.
We left.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Friday, August 21, 2009
Burritos in the Nose
It was Viking Volleyball on the Bloodhound II yesterday. Everyone gathered together on the poop deck* and began to play. Since there is SO many people on the crew, most everyone was just taking turns.
I had just come back from soccer practice, so I was beat. I came on the boat a good twenty minutes after everyone else had started playing, (Its essential to know that I had had time to take a quick shower and freshen up, so I was wearing my trilby and shades), and flopped onto a bench next to Lulu the Loud.
I have this BIG nose, and Lulu has this teeny nose. Remember that now.
Anyway, since I starving because I hadn't eaten since a few hours before practice, I whipped out one of my burritos that I always carry around with me and began to chew. Lulu turned to me and seemed to notice that I was there for the first time.
"Hey, Olaf!" she said. "Can I where your shades?"
"No," I said.
"Can I wear your shades?" she asked.
"Sure!" I said, handing them over to her. She excitedly put them on. They excitedly fell down her too-small nose.
""DANG""!! she ingrammatically cried. "Your nose is HUGE!"
"Hey!" I said. Then I remembered she was right. "Right, right," I said.
While the V-game raged on, Lulu continually tried to keep them on her nose. Her attempts became too much for me, though, and I started to laugh. Uncontrollably.
POP! went the burrito that WAS in my mouth.
ZIP! went the burrito that was now somewhere in my nostril.
"ARGH!" I screamed in pain.
I quickly ran to the bathrom, grabbed the thickest paper towels I could find, and began to frantically try and blow the chunk out. But it was to no avail. I then tried to force the burrito back into my mouth by breathing in. Nope. I then poured an entire bottle of water down my nose. Still nothing. With one last desperate attempt, I blew out. Hard.
POP! the burrito bit that was the size of Rhode Island popped out, in all of its chewed glory. The best part was, I felt much better than I had been feeling. There was only one thing to do.
I told Lulu every single last stinking thing that I had done, in a somewhat mocking, angry manner. She burst into tears.
"WHY DO YOU ALWAYS ACCUSE ME OF STUFF?" she screamed.
"BECAUSE YOU'RE ALWAYS DOING STUFF!" I screamed back.
"WHY CAN'T YOU JUST ACCEPT ME FOR WHO I AM?" she screamed.
"BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT A WATER BUFFALO!" I screamed back.
We shared a high five because we had started cracking up again. It was then that we noticed the volleyball game had stopped playing. and all were staring at us with strange looks on their faces.
I decided to cut my losses the only way I knew how. I KOed her with my Nunchucks and ran overboard.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
*That makes playing volleyball even more challenging, since we take the term 'poop deck' seriously.
I had just come back from soccer practice, so I was beat. I came on the boat a good twenty minutes after everyone else had started playing, (Its essential to know that I had had time to take a quick shower and freshen up, so I was wearing my trilby and shades), and flopped onto a bench next to Lulu the Loud.
I have this BIG nose, and Lulu has this teeny nose. Remember that now.
Anyway, since I starving because I hadn't eaten since a few hours before practice, I whipped out one of my burritos that I always carry around with me and began to chew. Lulu turned to me and seemed to notice that I was there for the first time.
"Hey, Olaf!" she said. "Can I where your shades?"
"No," I said.
"Can I wear your shades?" she asked.
"Sure!" I said, handing them over to her. She excitedly put them on. They excitedly fell down her too-small nose.
""DANG""!! she ingrammatically cried. "Your nose is HUGE!"
"Hey!" I said. Then I remembered she was right. "Right, right," I said.
While the V-game raged on, Lulu continually tried to keep them on her nose. Her attempts became too much for me, though, and I started to laugh. Uncontrollably.
POP! went the burrito that WAS in my mouth.
ZIP! went the burrito that was now somewhere in my nostril.
"ARGH!" I screamed in pain.
I quickly ran to the bathrom, grabbed the thickest paper towels I could find, and began to frantically try and blow the chunk out. But it was to no avail. I then tried to force the burrito back into my mouth by breathing in. Nope. I then poured an entire bottle of water down my nose. Still nothing. With one last desperate attempt, I blew out. Hard.
POP! the burrito bit that was the size of Rhode Island popped out, in all of its chewed glory. The best part was, I felt much better than I had been feeling. There was only one thing to do.
I told Lulu every single last stinking thing that I had done, in a somewhat mocking, angry manner. She burst into tears.
"WHY DO YOU ALWAYS ACCUSE ME OF STUFF?" she screamed.
"BECAUSE YOU'RE ALWAYS DOING STUFF!" I screamed back.
"WHY CAN'T YOU JUST ACCEPT ME FOR WHO I AM?" she screamed.
"BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT A WATER BUFFALO!" I screamed back.
We shared a high five because we had started cracking up again. It was then that we noticed the volleyball game had stopped playing. and all were staring at us with strange looks on their faces.
I decided to cut my losses the only way I knew how. I KOed her with my Nunchucks and ran overboard.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
*That makes playing volleyball even more challenging, since we take the term 'poop deck' seriously.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Invisible Ink
Let's see, I think we'll start today's post with an ex
Now you'll never know what was REALLY in this post.
And it will haunt you for the rest of your life.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Now you'll never know what was REALLY in this post.
And it will haunt you for the rest of your life.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
I hate this post
Sung to the tune of 'I hate this song' by Secondhand Serenade.
Type with your hands tied, I'm know I'm tired
But I just want to know what you want to know
I'm readerless, but I'm not weak, blog's future's bleak
And my baggy eyes never lie, this blog come from inside
(CHORUS)
Until sunday I'll be writing posts once more
I guess that the others weren't good enough for you
You know that I hate this post
You know that I hate this post because it was written for you
Sometimes I need hugs, but I still feel bugged,
My glossy eyes stare at the computer's screen
I'm in too deep to come back up again
But somehow I can't find the moment you stopped reading.
(CHORUS)
this is becoming a painful experience, it's unfair
But your lack of words, the way that i heard you're not reading
you've locked me in, inside my skin
And the tasteless jokes that filled your yolks are starting to fall in
you've locked me in, inside my skin,
And if sunday's what it takes i have nothing left to give
(CHORUS)
~Olaf the Bald.
Type with your hands tied, I'm know I'm tired
But I just want to know what you want to know
I'm readerless, but I'm not weak, blog's future's bleak
And my baggy eyes never lie, this blog come from inside
(CHORUS)
Until sunday I'll be writing posts once more
I guess that the others weren't good enough for you
You know that I hate this post
You know that I hate this post because it was written for you
Sometimes I need hugs, but I still feel bugged,
My glossy eyes stare at the computer's screen
I'm in too deep to come back up again
But somehow I can't find the moment you stopped reading.
(CHORUS)
this is becoming a painful experience, it's unfair
But your lack of words, the way that i heard you're not reading
you've locked me in, inside my skin
And the tasteless jokes that filled your yolks are starting to fall in
you've locked me in, inside my skin,
And if sunday's what it takes i have nothing left to give
(CHORUS)
~Olaf the Bald.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Dodging
You know what I hate? Dodging things. No, not ME dodging things, Dodging things that dodge ME.
There is nothing more annoying than swinging your nun-chucks at something, and watching it miss. Ninjas are the masters at that. I'll be like, SWING! and they'll be like, WHOOSH! and I'll be like I BETTER BLOCK MY BACKSIDE WITH MY MACHETE! Tis crazy.
But no, the worst part is when you fight the Dire Monkeys of Trall. These guys know how to dodge so well, that its almost an art style. Its been said by audiences that, when watching someone fight a D-MOT, its like watching Dancing with the Stars, only there's one person winning and one person losing, not both people winning/losing together.
For example, I had the privelage of fighting one of these D-MOTs yesterday. It went something like this:
1.) I swing.
2.) They jump back.
3.) I step forward and swing while they jump up into the air and scrabble-scrabble with their little claws on the way down.
4.) I get hit and fall back.
5.) They slide tackle in the shins.
6.)It reminds me of my glory days in soccer.
7.)They turn around as I'm jumping up and punch me in the back.
8.)I fall down again.
9.) They do a victory dance on my spine.
I hate things that dodge. But, not as much as Gravity and Penguins; you don't have to worry about that.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
There is nothing more annoying than swinging your nun-chucks at something, and watching it miss. Ninjas are the masters at that. I'll be like, SWING! and they'll be like, WHOOSH! and I'll be like I BETTER BLOCK MY BACKSIDE WITH MY MACHETE! Tis crazy.
But no, the worst part is when you fight the Dire Monkeys of Trall. These guys know how to dodge so well, that its almost an art style. Its been said by audiences that, when watching someone fight a D-MOT, its like watching Dancing with the Stars, only there's one person winning and one person losing, not both people winning/losing together.
For example, I had the privelage of fighting one of these D-MOTs yesterday. It went something like this:
1.) I swing.
2.) They jump back.
3.) I step forward and swing while they jump up into the air and scrabble-scrabble with their little claws on the way down.
4.) I get hit and fall back.
5.) They slide tackle in the shins.
6.)It reminds me of my glory days in soccer.
7.)They turn around as I'm jumping up and punch me in the back.
8.)I fall down again.
9.) They do a victory dance on my spine.
I hate things that dodge. But, not as much as Gravity and Penguins; you don't have to worry about that.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Monday, August 17, 2009
Special One Hundred and Fiftieth Post!!!!!!
All right! One hundred and Fifty Blog Posts! For this special occasion, I'm going to show you a song I wrote!
'S.E.'
There once was a guy namd Special,
and He had a friend namd Ed,
And their last names were 'Ucation,"
And so they formed...
Special Education!
Special and Ed!
Special Eudcation!
Special Ed!
What amazing song writing talents I have! Right? I got the idea after talking to Omar the Bold for a while! Ciao!
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Novel Update
Y'all know the novel I is woiking on? Well, I've hit a good level of writerin' here.
I have typed up around 38,000 words, written about 50,000, and am aiming for over 100,000 thousand, which is actually longer than teh Foist Harry Potter book.
aYUP.
That's all I can think of saying fo' today. And thank you, FIrey, for posting a comment yesterday. Those comments are the only way I ever know if someone is reading my posts.
SO, have a heart.
Post a comment,
Olaf the BAAAAAALD!
I have typed up around 38,000 words, written about 50,000, and am aiming for over 100,000 thousand, which is actually longer than teh Foist Harry Potter book.
aYUP.
That's all I can think of saying fo' today. And thank you, FIrey, for posting a comment yesterday. Those comments are the only way I ever know if someone is reading my posts.
SO, have a heart.
Post a comment,
Olaf the BAAAAAALD!
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Why? The Pecan Pie?
You know, despite my ever-lovin' love of Pie, there's one bane in the Pie Factor than ruins all.
PECAN. PIES.
I've never really liked nuts of any sort, and the braces I had for a few years really helped resist the temptation, but the worst nut of all time is the Pecan. I swear, the DEVIL eats those things for his breakfast cereal. The DEVIL!
And you know what else? Cheesecake IS a pie. It's in crust, so its a Pie. Same as Pizza.
So its time. I'm going to take out the entire Pecan Industry. Its been my bane for TOO long!
I'm just going to leave this post up until I get down taking it out.
Ok, the deed is done. Its been about five hours since I typed that last sentence. Needless to say, taking out the entire Pecan Industry was wierd.
"I like your dress," I said to it as I escorted it to its seat.
"Why, thank you," The entire Pecan industry said as it sat down. I ran around to the other side of the table and sat down as well.
"Ok, listen, we need to talk," I said. "I hate pecans. Stop putting them in pies. You're giving the rest of the pies a bad name."
"This is why I'm always mad at you!" The entire Pecan Industry cried. "You're always accusing me of things! Like that one time, when I was talking to that dude, and you said I was cheating on you ... Why can't you just accept me for who I am without accusing me all the time?"
"Listen!" I said. "Stop putting Pecans in pies. That's all I ask."
"You selfish pig!" The entire Pecan Industry cried. "Accept me!"
"Stop putting Pecans in pies!" I repeated.
Needless to say, the rest of the date didn't go well. I think that next time, I'm just going to have to blow it up or something.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
PECAN. PIES.
I've never really liked nuts of any sort, and the braces I had for a few years really helped resist the temptation, but the worst nut of all time is the Pecan. I swear, the DEVIL eats those things for his breakfast cereal. The DEVIL!
And you know what else? Cheesecake IS a pie. It's in crust, so its a Pie. Same as Pizza.
So its time. I'm going to take out the entire Pecan Industry. Its been my bane for TOO long!
I'm just going to leave this post up until I get down taking it out.
Ok, the deed is done. Its been about five hours since I typed that last sentence. Needless to say, taking out the entire Pecan Industry was wierd.
"I like your dress," I said to it as I escorted it to its seat.
"Why, thank you," The entire Pecan industry said as it sat down. I ran around to the other side of the table and sat down as well.
"Ok, listen, we need to talk," I said. "I hate pecans. Stop putting them in pies. You're giving the rest of the pies a bad name."
"This is why I'm always mad at you!" The entire Pecan Industry cried. "You're always accusing me of things! Like that one time, when I was talking to that dude, and you said I was cheating on you ... Why can't you just accept me for who I am without accusing me all the time?"
"Listen!" I said. "Stop putting Pecans in pies. That's all I ask."
"You selfish pig!" The entire Pecan Industry cried. "Accept me!"
"Stop putting Pecans in pies!" I repeated.
Needless to say, the rest of the date didn't go well. I think that next time, I'm just going to have to blow it up or something.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Friday, August 14, 2009
Waiters
Man, I love messin' with waiters.
I walked into a fancy restaurant yesterday and sat down. A few minutes later, a waiter walked up.
"May I get you a menu, sir?" The waiter stiffly asked.
"Nope," I said.
"Then do you already know what to order, sir?" The waiter asked.
"Nope," I said. "I can't read, so I'm going to have to ask you to give me what I want."
"But, sir," the Waiter asked. "How will I know what you want?"
"Easy," I said. "You've been trained in this department of waitering for a long time. Just guess. But remember: I am a VERY picky eater."
The waiter nodded, his face still emotionless. "And what would you like to drink?"
"The most alcohol-induced drink you can find," I said. "But please remove the Alcohol- I'm an abstainer."
"How do you suggest I remove the alcohol, sir?" The waiter asked.
"Just suck it out with your teeth." I said. Then, as an afterthought, I said, "Last time I came to a restaurant, I could taste saliva that wasn't mine in my drink. Make sure none of that nasty stuff gets in there, will you?"
The waiter stiffly bowed, and then ran off toward the kitchen.
I chuckled to myself, enjoying my own obnoxiousness.
A few minutes passed, and the waiter came back with a reddish drink. "Here is your Alcoholless Achohol-induced drink, sir," he said. "I strained it with my teeth myself."
"Aw, thanks!" I said. "But I can see your saliva swimming at the top, and since its impossible to completely remove alcohol from a drink, I'm gonna have to ask that it be taken away."
"But sir!" the waiter cried. "This was a 1912 vintage! I can't just... throw it away!"
"Here, I'll do it for you," I said, grabbing the fancy glass and dropping it onto the floor. It shattered into a million pieces. The waiter stood completely still, his jaw tensing ever so slightly.
"There is now wine in my shoes, sir," He grimly said. "There are also glass shards puncturing the skin upon my feet."
"See?" I said. "Alcohol IS bad for you! Same as Caffeine!"
"But Caffeinated Drinks do not come in glasses, sir, they come in cans," the waiter stoically said.
"Have you ever ripped one of those cans up? SHOE-Wee! Those things could stop a zombie army single-handedly! You know what, don't worry about getting me a drink, just bring me the vittles."
"Vittles, sir?" The waiter said weakly.
"Food! Sustenance!" I cried. "I HUNGRY!"
The waiter's eyes widened in fear, and he turned and sprinted back toward the kitchen. As he ran, I noticed a red liquid squirting out of his fancy shoes. I wasn't sure if it was the wine, his blood, or both.
About fifteen minutes passed. The waiter soon came back. His fancy shoes were wrapped with toilet paper, and he was holding a silver platter with one of those domey-thingy things on top.
"Here is your food, sir," He said, taking the domey thingy off of the top of the platter. I beheld a food. I don't even remember what it was, since I wasn't done having my fun.
"WHAT IS THIS?" I screamed, smacking the platter out of the waiter's hands and into his face. "This is not what I ordered!"
"But you didn't order anything, sir," The waiter weakly mumbled. "YOu said you wanted me to guess what you wanted, and bring it out to you.
"LIES!" I shrieked. "I ordered the Lobster! Bring me one! NOW!"
The waiter turned and dejectedly walked back toward the kitchen. I heard him mutter, 'the customer is always right...."
"Wait!" I cried. "I owe you an apology."
The waiter turned, eyes full of hope.
"I am SO sorry that I haven't been helping you complete your job right!" I said. "Here, let me remind you of what you forgot: A drink."
"But I DID bring you a drink, sir," The waiter spluttered. "Its still on the floor."
I looked down, and sure enough, there was the drink.
"LIES!" I shrieked. "That was from some OTHER customer! Retrieve my sparkling water! Make sure there are many Ice cubes within!"
The waiter curtly nodded, then slumped his way back to the kitchen.
A few minutes passed, and the waiter came sadly walking back, holding aloft another sliver platter and a glass. "Here is your sparkling water and lobster, sir," he grumpily said.
"Isn't a waiter creed, "Greet your customers with a smile!"?" I asked.
He grimaced, then placed the stuff on the table. I looked at the glass.
"This is not what I ordered!" I cried.
"You ordered sparkling water, sir," the waiter exasperatedly said, a grimace still being held upon his face. "This is sparklig water."
"I ordered Sparkling water with ICE CUBES," I said. "These are blocks of ice that resemble frozen half-circles. I want cubes."
"AND what would you suggest I do, sir?" The waiter asked.
"Take a knife, and carve them into cubes!" I cried. "Take some initiative, man!"
The waiter groaned, grabbed the glass, and dragged his feet all the way back to the kitchen.
When he came back, each block perfectly carved into a cube, I was vigorously licking the lobster.
"Well, that was good," I said as he placed the glass on the table. "Check please."
"Excuse me?" The waiter asked.
"I'm done," I said. "I want the check."
"But your water! Your lobster!" The waiter shrieked.
"Yeah, I'm good." I said. "Just reuse the lobster."
"But you LICKED it!" The waiter shriked once again.
"So? Dog's tongues are cleaner than humans' tongues, anyway." I said. The waiter gaped.
"Get the flippin' check already!" I cried.
"The waiter turned and fled for the kitchen. I counted for five minutes, and he soon came back, his pallor transformed into a very smug expression.
"Your check, sir," He said, handing me the check. I opened it.
"WHOA!" I cried. "Three hundred smackaroos? What for?"
"Personal charges," The waiter said, a gleam in his eyes. "Among those include ice cube cutting, shoe replacement, and the improper use of toilet paper."
"Wow," I said. "Ok, just give me a minute."
"With pleasure," The waiter said, smugly limping away. I tell exactly what he was thinking: Though this stupid customer has given me H--- since he arrived, I shall be redeemed with the ridiculously large amount of money I am charging him! Ha!
I waited until the waiter had his head turned, then stood up and walked out of the restaurant.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
I walked into a fancy restaurant yesterday and sat down. A few minutes later, a waiter walked up.
"May I get you a menu, sir?" The waiter stiffly asked.
"Nope," I said.
"Then do you already know what to order, sir?" The waiter asked.
"Nope," I said. "I can't read, so I'm going to have to ask you to give me what I want."
"But, sir," the Waiter asked. "How will I know what you want?"
"Easy," I said. "You've been trained in this department of waitering for a long time. Just guess. But remember: I am a VERY picky eater."
The waiter nodded, his face still emotionless. "And what would you like to drink?"
"The most alcohol-induced drink you can find," I said. "But please remove the Alcohol- I'm an abstainer."
"How do you suggest I remove the alcohol, sir?" The waiter asked.
"Just suck it out with your teeth." I said. Then, as an afterthought, I said, "Last time I came to a restaurant, I could taste saliva that wasn't mine in my drink. Make sure none of that nasty stuff gets in there, will you?"
The waiter stiffly bowed, and then ran off toward the kitchen.
I chuckled to myself, enjoying my own obnoxiousness.
A few minutes passed, and the waiter came back with a reddish drink. "Here is your Alcoholless Achohol-induced drink, sir," he said. "I strained it with my teeth myself."
"Aw, thanks!" I said. "But I can see your saliva swimming at the top, and since its impossible to completely remove alcohol from a drink, I'm gonna have to ask that it be taken away."
"But sir!" the waiter cried. "This was a 1912 vintage! I can't just... throw it away!"
"Here, I'll do it for you," I said, grabbing the fancy glass and dropping it onto the floor. It shattered into a million pieces. The waiter stood completely still, his jaw tensing ever so slightly.
"There is now wine in my shoes, sir," He grimly said. "There are also glass shards puncturing the skin upon my feet."
"See?" I said. "Alcohol IS bad for you! Same as Caffeine!"
"But Caffeinated Drinks do not come in glasses, sir, they come in cans," the waiter stoically said.
"Have you ever ripped one of those cans up? SHOE-Wee! Those things could stop a zombie army single-handedly! You know what, don't worry about getting me a drink, just bring me the vittles."
"Vittles, sir?" The waiter said weakly.
"Food! Sustenance!" I cried. "I HUNGRY!"
The waiter's eyes widened in fear, and he turned and sprinted back toward the kitchen. As he ran, I noticed a red liquid squirting out of his fancy shoes. I wasn't sure if it was the wine, his blood, or both.
About fifteen minutes passed. The waiter soon came back. His fancy shoes were wrapped with toilet paper, and he was holding a silver platter with one of those domey-thingy things on top.
"Here is your food, sir," He said, taking the domey thingy off of the top of the platter. I beheld a food. I don't even remember what it was, since I wasn't done having my fun.
"WHAT IS THIS?" I screamed, smacking the platter out of the waiter's hands and into his face. "This is not what I ordered!"
"But you didn't order anything, sir," The waiter weakly mumbled. "YOu said you wanted me to guess what you wanted, and bring it out to you.
"LIES!" I shrieked. "I ordered the Lobster! Bring me one! NOW!"
The waiter turned and dejectedly walked back toward the kitchen. I heard him mutter, 'the customer is always right...."
"Wait!" I cried. "I owe you an apology."
The waiter turned, eyes full of hope.
"I am SO sorry that I haven't been helping you complete your job right!" I said. "Here, let me remind you of what you forgot: A drink."
"But I DID bring you a drink, sir," The waiter spluttered. "Its still on the floor."
I looked down, and sure enough, there was the drink.
"LIES!" I shrieked. "That was from some OTHER customer! Retrieve my sparkling water! Make sure there are many Ice cubes within!"
The waiter curtly nodded, then slumped his way back to the kitchen.
A few minutes passed, and the waiter came sadly walking back, holding aloft another sliver platter and a glass. "Here is your sparkling water and lobster, sir," he grumpily said.
"Isn't a waiter creed, "Greet your customers with a smile!"?" I asked.
He grimaced, then placed the stuff on the table. I looked at the glass.
"This is not what I ordered!" I cried.
"You ordered sparkling water, sir," the waiter exasperatedly said, a grimace still being held upon his face. "This is sparklig water."
"I ordered Sparkling water with ICE CUBES," I said. "These are blocks of ice that resemble frozen half-circles. I want cubes."
"AND what would you suggest I do, sir?" The waiter asked.
"Take a knife, and carve them into cubes!" I cried. "Take some initiative, man!"
The waiter groaned, grabbed the glass, and dragged his feet all the way back to the kitchen.
When he came back, each block perfectly carved into a cube, I was vigorously licking the lobster.
"Well, that was good," I said as he placed the glass on the table. "Check please."
"Excuse me?" The waiter asked.
"I'm done," I said. "I want the check."
"But your water! Your lobster!" The waiter shrieked.
"Yeah, I'm good." I said. "Just reuse the lobster."
"But you LICKED it!" The waiter shriked once again.
"So? Dog's tongues are cleaner than humans' tongues, anyway." I said. The waiter gaped.
"Get the flippin' check already!" I cried.
"The waiter turned and fled for the kitchen. I counted for five minutes, and he soon came back, his pallor transformed into a very smug expression.
"Your check, sir," He said, handing me the check. I opened it.
"WHOA!" I cried. "Three hundred smackaroos? What for?"
"Personal charges," The waiter said, a gleam in his eyes. "Among those include ice cube cutting, shoe replacement, and the improper use of toilet paper."
"Wow," I said. "Ok, just give me a minute."
"With pleasure," The waiter said, smugly limping away. I tell exactly what he was thinking: Though this stupid customer has given me H--- since he arrived, I shall be redeemed with the ridiculously large amount of money I am charging him! Ha!
I waited until the waiter had his head turned, then stood up and walked out of the restaurant.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Class Cops
Not every single class member has problems with the other classes. These non-prejudiced class members are then entitled to join the Class Cops, an elite force that deals with law-breaking class members.
Of course, when they join the Class Cops, there's always a problem: What possible law can we make up so that we can claim that class members broke them? Aftr all, non of the classes are bound by the laws of mere mortals ... though, Barrack Obama is nearing passing that threshold, which might mean we'll have to start following US laws. That guy's got POWER, man!
Anyway, some of the laws enforced by the Class Cops are these:
-You cannot drive your boat over one million miles per hour, since that breaks all natural laws of how earth works.
-You cannot disguise yourself as a fly and annoy mortals by buzzing around them for more than seventy-two hours.
-You cannot pass a bus that has its' stop sign out.
Those are some harsh laws, man! And the Class Cops ALWAYS know when a law is being broken. Its eerie. I mean, I'm typing this from a Class Jail cell, since I just got arrested for violently helping an old lady across the street! I mean, come on! I think, if you walk up next to an old lady, and she says, "Will you help me across the street, young man?" you have every right to help in any way you think is good: My favorite method is kicking her across the street. SHe'll be fine then.
I gotta go make my escape. That Ninja and Dentist standing outside the door don't look too tough.*
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
*As I typed that, the Dentist looked into my cell and said, "I'm adding 'Plan of escape from Class Jail' to your charges." I told you these guys knew everything!
Of course, when they join the Class Cops, there's always a problem: What possible law can we make up so that we can claim that class members broke them? Aftr all, non of the classes are bound by the laws of mere mortals ... though, Barrack Obama is nearing passing that threshold, which might mean we'll have to start following US laws. That guy's got POWER, man!
Anyway, some of the laws enforced by the Class Cops are these:
-You cannot drive your boat over one million miles per hour, since that breaks all natural laws of how earth works.
-You cannot disguise yourself as a fly and annoy mortals by buzzing around them for more than seventy-two hours.
-You cannot pass a bus that has its' stop sign out.
Those are some harsh laws, man! And the Class Cops ALWAYS know when a law is being broken. Its eerie. I mean, I'm typing this from a Class Jail cell, since I just got arrested for violently helping an old lady across the street! I mean, come on! I think, if you walk up next to an old lady, and she says, "Will you help me across the street, young man?" you have every right to help in any way you think is good: My favorite method is kicking her across the street. SHe'll be fine then.
I gotta go make my escape. That Ninja and Dentist standing outside the door don't look too tough.*
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
*As I typed that, the Dentist looked into my cell and said, "I'm adding 'Plan of escape from Class Jail' to your charges." I told you these guys knew everything!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Cliffhanger
A few days ago, I was hanging out with my posse.
"So, whaddya wanna do?" I asked.
"Dunno," Omar the Bold said.
"Dunno," George the Yellow said.
"Dunno," Erik the Noisy said.
"Dunno," Lulu the Loud said.
"Dunno," Soren the Hard-of-Hearing Scribe said.
"Talk about me," Phil the Conceited said. Everyone ignored him.
At that exact moment, Chieftain Gregory the Hairy walked in.
"Guys," he said. "There's a problem."
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
"So, whaddya wanna do?" I asked.
"Dunno," Omar the Bold said.
"Dunno," George the Yellow said.
"Dunno," Erik the Noisy said.
"Dunno," Lulu the Loud said.
"Dunno," Soren the Hard-of-Hearing Scribe said.
"Talk about me," Phil the Conceited said. Everyone ignored him.
At that exact moment, Chieftain Gregory the Hairy walked in.
"Guys," he said. "There's a problem."
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Cannons
There's a common misconception that Pirates and not Vikings use cannons on their ships.
Well, its true, Pirates DO use Cannons, but that's because they totally copied us.
See, what happened is, when Pirates were their own little class doing their own little classy thing, and Vikings were rampaging up and down the seas of the world, PIrates watched us and thought, "Gee, our awesomeness could be so much more improved if we copied one of those Viking ideas!"
Another common misconception is that Pirates copied the ship idea first. Nope, it was the cannon idea.
It was actually pretty funny, at first; we Vikings would sit on the decks of our ships and laugh as the land-based Pirates would be desperately trying to drag cannons after their enemies. Trust me, though, chase scenes with Cannon-Lugging Pirates get boring FAST.
It was then that Pirates decided to copy another idea of ours, and mount the cannons on ships. We Vikings ditched the cannons like it was Grandma's house on sunday, because its a major rule in life: If someone is copying the crap out of you, try to be as unlike that person as you can be.
Well, the copycatting Pirates just wouldn't stop. It was then that we decided to strike a deal up with some Ninjas. Sneaking into their main base, our leader made a pact with their leader, hiring them to destroy ALL of the Pirates, just as they had done the Urgur. It explains the constant emnity between them, doesn't it?
Some Viking ships today still use cannons, but once Pirates began wielding guns and crap, we respectfully ditched the idea of ranged weapons. Them Pirate can HAVE 'em.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Well, its true, Pirates DO use Cannons, but that's because they totally copied us.
See, what happened is, when Pirates were their own little class doing their own little classy thing, and Vikings were rampaging up and down the seas of the world, PIrates watched us and thought, "Gee, our awesomeness could be so much more improved if we copied one of those Viking ideas!"
Another common misconception is that Pirates copied the ship idea first. Nope, it was the cannon idea.
It was actually pretty funny, at first; we Vikings would sit on the decks of our ships and laugh as the land-based Pirates would be desperately trying to drag cannons after their enemies. Trust me, though, chase scenes with Cannon-Lugging Pirates get boring FAST.
It was then that Pirates decided to copy another idea of ours, and mount the cannons on ships. We Vikings ditched the cannons like it was Grandma's house on sunday, because its a major rule in life: If someone is copying the crap out of you, try to be as unlike that person as you can be.
Well, the copycatting Pirates just wouldn't stop. It was then that we decided to strike a deal up with some Ninjas. Sneaking into their main base, our leader made a pact with their leader, hiring them to destroy ALL of the Pirates, just as they had done the Urgur. It explains the constant emnity between them, doesn't it?
Some Viking ships today still use cannons, but once Pirates began wielding guns and crap, we respectfully ditched the idea of ranged weapons. Them Pirate can HAVE 'em.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Monday, August 10, 2009
Poll Results: Month 4
Which Minor Class to ascend to be a Major Class?
Amazons: 3
Little Kids: 0.
This poll was sad. Almost NO ONE voted, and only two fans voted, since I voted once.
Polls are off the site until further notice.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Amazons: 3
Little Kids: 0.
This poll was sad. Almost NO ONE voted, and only two fans voted, since I voted once.
Polls are off the site until further notice.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Why I'm Stupid
I was licking the inside of my shoes today when Omar the Bold came in and screamed, "WHY THE HECK ARE YOU SO FREAKING STUPID?"
"What?" I asked. My tongue was still on the shoe when I asked that, so it came out as "Glu?"
"Look at you! You're licking the inside of that shoe!" Omar yelled. "How on earth did you get to be so stupid?"
I drew back my tongue with a sickeningly sqlerpltch and replied, "Well, I'll tell you."
"NO NOSTALGIA! NO NOSTALGIA!" Omar cried, hiding his obvious interest. Luckily for him, he was too late.
When I was in my last few weeks of CVU, I decided, as a Graduation gift to me, to buy me a phone. This purchase was much to Nicholas the Sharkbait's Chagrine, as as you know, Vikings don't use cell phones.
"You need to take that horrid thing back," Nick cried, taking a few steps back. "Its complete pandemonium!"
"What a horrid use of that word," I said. "Anyway, I don't use it for texting calling paging or farting, I use it for a better reason." I lied.
"What reason?" Nick asked suspiciously.
"Um ..." I said the first thing that popped into my head. "It's a great hacky-sack."
"Hacky-Sack?" Nick asked.
"Yes, Hacky-Sack," I replied. Nick wasn't convinced.
"Ok, that makes sense," He said.
"No, really! I'll show you!" I cried.
"I said I believed you!" He cried back.
"SOME FRIEND YOU ARE NOT TO BELIEVE ME!" I yelled. "Ok, here, I'll show you." I tossed the cell phone down on the ground, and began to Hacky-Sack it up and down, down and up.
"Wow, I didn't know cell phones could be used in such a manner!" Nick said.
"'Course it can!" I cried. "Try it!"
Nick took the cell phone, dropped it, and kicked it into a sewer.
"Oops... guess I'm not good at Hacky-Sack," he mumbled.
"HOLY HECK!" I screamed.
"Um, I'm pretty sure that Heck can't be holy at any lev..."
"HOLY HECK!" I screamed.
"Look, you should be saying 'Holy Heav..."
"GET IT!" I screamed.
About thirty minutes later, Nick was despearately trying to left the grate to the sewer without any assistance.
"Darn it," He muttered. "I'm never going to be able to get this off. I think your cellular is done for."
I walked over to the grate and popped it off without any effort.
"Shut up," Nick muttered.
"All right, all you have to do is jump down there and grab it," I said, backing up several hundred feet.
"Why are you backing up?" Nick asked as he jumped in.
"Because everyone knows ...." I said as Nick was thrust out of the open grate by an avalanche of Zombies, alligators, and dead fish pouring out of it. "... those things live in sewers."
As Nick was carried away by the sewer dwellers, I jumped into it, grabbed the cellular, and jumped back out.
"Sweet!" I said.
AT that point, Selena the Foreign and her friends walked by and laughed, saying, "That phone is SO five minutes ago!"
I tossed the phone back into a sewer, where a gnome picked it up and began racking up charges. How I dealt with that problem is another story.
I eventually found Nick five miles away from the grate, being helped along by one of our Fraternity Brothers. Nick had been bitten, and he was now a Zombie.
"Braaaaaaaaiins...." He moaned as he was dragged along by our bro.
"What do we do with him now?" the bro asked. I reached up, opened my skull, pulled out my brain, and handed it to the zombie Nick the Sharkbait.
"I'm a decent person," I said as Nick began to devour it.
As I finished my story, Omar looked at me with a look of utter disgust.
"I hate you SO MUCH." He growled.
"Thanks for the sarcasm, buddy!" I cried.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
"What?" I asked. My tongue was still on the shoe when I asked that, so it came out as "Glu?"
"Look at you! You're licking the inside of that shoe!" Omar yelled. "How on earth did you get to be so stupid?"
I drew back my tongue with a sickeningly sqlerpltch and replied, "Well, I'll tell you."
"NO NOSTALGIA! NO NOSTALGIA!" Omar cried, hiding his obvious interest. Luckily for him, he was too late.
When I was in my last few weeks of CVU, I decided, as a Graduation gift to me, to buy me a phone. This purchase was much to Nicholas the Sharkbait's Chagrine, as as you know, Vikings don't use cell phones.
"You need to take that horrid thing back," Nick cried, taking a few steps back. "Its complete pandemonium!"
"What a horrid use of that word," I said. "Anyway, I don't use it for texting calling paging or farting, I use it for a better reason." I lied.
"What reason?" Nick asked suspiciously.
"Um ..." I said the first thing that popped into my head. "It's a great hacky-sack."
"Hacky-Sack?" Nick asked.
"Yes, Hacky-Sack," I replied. Nick wasn't convinced.
"Ok, that makes sense," He said.
"No, really! I'll show you!" I cried.
"I said I believed you!" He cried back.
"SOME FRIEND YOU ARE NOT TO BELIEVE ME!" I yelled. "Ok, here, I'll show you." I tossed the cell phone down on the ground, and began to Hacky-Sack it up and down, down and up.
"Wow, I didn't know cell phones could be used in such a manner!" Nick said.
"'Course it can!" I cried. "Try it!"
Nick took the cell phone, dropped it, and kicked it into a sewer.
"Oops... guess I'm not good at Hacky-Sack," he mumbled.
"HOLY HECK!" I screamed.
"Um, I'm pretty sure that Heck can't be holy at any lev..."
"HOLY HECK!" I screamed.
"Look, you should be saying 'Holy Heav..."
"GET IT!" I screamed.
About thirty minutes later, Nick was despearately trying to left the grate to the sewer without any assistance.
"Darn it," He muttered. "I'm never going to be able to get this off. I think your cellular is done for."
I walked over to the grate and popped it off without any effort.
"Shut up," Nick muttered.
"All right, all you have to do is jump down there and grab it," I said, backing up several hundred feet.
"Why are you backing up?" Nick asked as he jumped in.
"Because everyone knows ...." I said as Nick was thrust out of the open grate by an avalanche of Zombies, alligators, and dead fish pouring out of it. "... those things live in sewers."
As Nick was carried away by the sewer dwellers, I jumped into it, grabbed the cellular, and jumped back out.
"Sweet!" I said.
AT that point, Selena the Foreign and her friends walked by and laughed, saying, "That phone is SO five minutes ago!"
I tossed the phone back into a sewer, where a gnome picked it up and began racking up charges. How I dealt with that problem is another story.
I eventually found Nick five miles away from the grate, being helped along by one of our Fraternity Brothers. Nick had been bitten, and he was now a Zombie.
"Braaaaaaaaiins...." He moaned as he was dragged along by our bro.
"What do we do with him now?" the bro asked. I reached up, opened my skull, pulled out my brain, and handed it to the zombie Nick the Sharkbait.
"I'm a decent person," I said as Nick began to devour it.
As I finished my story, Omar looked at me with a look of utter disgust.
"I hate you SO MUCH." He growled.
"Thanks for the sarcasm, buddy!" I cried.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Vikinged Movies
So, I heard that the official term for blatantly stealing media from chaps online is called 'Pirating.' And I say: WT&, mate?
It's obviously supposed to be called Vikinged movieing, since Pirates steal all their ways from us. But, the thing is, Pirating or Vikinging shouldn't EVEN exist, because its a cruel and twisted way of stealing from innocent people.
You see, Bards of all sorts are honored by the Vikings, since without them, killing, mauling, stabbing, destroying, and stealing just WOULDN'T BE FUN! And when you Vikinging any Bard's intellectual property, you slowly STEAL THEIR SOUL.
That's bad, by the way.
Welp, that's all I'm gonna preach. I'm kinda busy right now, since I'm trying to figure out how to get some songs of my favorite band off the internet without paying for it.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
It's obviously supposed to be called Vikinged movieing, since Pirates steal all their ways from us. But, the thing is, Pirating or Vikinging shouldn't EVEN exist, because its a cruel and twisted way of stealing from innocent people.
You see, Bards of all sorts are honored by the Vikings, since without them, killing, mauling, stabbing, destroying, and stealing just WOULDN'T BE FUN! And when you Vikinging any Bard's intellectual property, you slowly STEAL THEIR SOUL.
That's bad, by the way.
Welp, that's all I'm gonna preach. I'm kinda busy right now, since I'm trying to figure out how to get some songs of my favorite band off the internet without paying for it.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Friday, August 7, 2009
Viking Soccer Team Update
Well, I made a team.
The reason why I'm not hoopin' and hollering like a banshee is because... I lied to you.
There's TWO teams.
One team is called TAT, Totally Awesome Team. This is where the best Viking soccer players go to play. Only the best can get in, as only the best can play the other class's teams. This is the team I tried out for.
Sadly, the other team is known as MIS, Man I Stink. This is where the Viking players go who aren't that good. They, to put it lightly, aren't that good. Most of the time, when you start playing soccer, you are put on that team, and then work your way up to the next.
I have been on the MIS for the last two years, and I was really hoping to get on TAT. But no, here's what my coaches said:
"Ok, you're too good for MIS, but you're too terrible for TAT, so we're gonna call you a Tweener and you'll jump around like friday's sunday, shish kabob*?"
SO I'm a Tweener. Not good enough to be good, but not bad enough to be bad.
That's bad.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
*Shish Kabob is the equivalent to Capisce.
The reason why I'm not hoopin' and hollering like a banshee is because... I lied to you.
There's TWO teams.
One team is called TAT, Totally Awesome Team. This is where the best Viking soccer players go to play. Only the best can get in, as only the best can play the other class's teams. This is the team I tried out for.
Sadly, the other team is known as MIS, Man I Stink. This is where the Viking players go who aren't that good. They, to put it lightly, aren't that good. Most of the time, when you start playing soccer, you are put on that team, and then work your way up to the next.
I have been on the MIS for the last two years, and I was really hoping to get on TAT. But no, here's what my coaches said:
"Ok, you're too good for MIS, but you're too terrible for TAT, so we're gonna call you a Tweener and you'll jump around like friday's sunday, shish kabob*?"
SO I'm a Tweener. Not good enough to be good, but not bad enough to be bad.
That's bad.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
*Shish Kabob is the equivalent to Capisce.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Candy
Today, my very best friends who I think are totally awesome and I were all discussing the best types of candy.
"Snickers bars are the best!" Omar the Bold cried.
"No way! Sugar Daddies are!" Soren the Hard-of-Hearing Scribe yelled, erupting inot a coughing fit right after.
"Lemon Heads," George the Yellow stuttered.
"Nuh-Nuh! Circus Peanuts are!" Erik the Noisy spluttered.
"Um, I like skittles, dear," Lulu the Loud cooed to Erik.
"Oh, I mean, Skittles are." Erik muttered.
"I like me," Phil the Conceited grinned.
"You're all wrong." I said smugly. "Coconut Flavored Gumdrops."
"You like Coconut Flavored Gumdrops?" Lulu the Loud inquired.
"What? No! I hate Coconut with a passion that burns hotter than the sun!" I cried. "I like Candy Corn."
"Then why didn't you say so?" Erik grumpily asked.
"Say what?" I asked.
"Say that you liked Candy Corn!" Omar screamed.
"I did," I said.
"No, you said you liked Coconut-Flavored Gumdrops at first," Soren said.
"I hate Coconut!" I cried.
"Then why did you say you like Coconut-Flavored Gumdrops?" George moaned.
"Why would I say that? I hate Coconut!" I said.
"No, I hate Coconut," Phil said.
"I fail to see how any of this applies," Soren muttered.
"A fly? WHERE?" Lulu screamed, swatting her hands through the air.
"You think Flies are the best kind of Candy? SICK!" Omar cried.
You see why I hate these people.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
"Snickers bars are the best!" Omar the Bold cried.
"No way! Sugar Daddies are!" Soren the Hard-of-Hearing Scribe yelled, erupting inot a coughing fit right after.
"Lemon Heads," George the Yellow stuttered.
"Nuh-Nuh! Circus Peanuts are!" Erik the Noisy spluttered.
"Um, I like skittles, dear," Lulu the Loud cooed to Erik.
"Oh, I mean, Skittles are." Erik muttered.
"I like me," Phil the Conceited grinned.
"You're all wrong." I said smugly. "Coconut Flavored Gumdrops."
"You like Coconut Flavored Gumdrops?" Lulu the Loud inquired.
"What? No! I hate Coconut with a passion that burns hotter than the sun!" I cried. "I like Candy Corn."
"Then why didn't you say so?" Erik grumpily asked.
"Say what?" I asked.
"Say that you liked Candy Corn!" Omar screamed.
"I did," I said.
"No, you said you liked Coconut-Flavored Gumdrops at first," Soren said.
"I hate Coconut!" I cried.
"Then why did you say you like Coconut-Flavored Gumdrops?" George moaned.
"Why would I say that? I hate Coconut!" I said.
"No, I hate Coconut," Phil said.
"I fail to see how any of this applies," Soren muttered.
"A fly? WHERE?" Lulu screamed, swatting her hands through the air.
"You think Flies are the best kind of Candy? SICK!" Omar cried.
You see why I hate these people.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Soreness
Oh. Man.
I am so sore.
What with Bard Camp and the Viking Soccer Team try-outs, I feel like a bunch of un-cooked spaghetti being forced to move like cooked spaghetti. It's torture.
So, what do we Vikings do to alleviate soreness? Well, I'll tell you.
There are one of three options you may choose should you want to loosen up. The first is simple: rub a bunch of Granny's Beetroot surprise on the sore parts. Soren the Hard-of-Hearing Scribe uses that one often, though I think its just because he has a thing for our local Granny, Hilda the Granny, to be precise. But don't worry: Any granny can work.
The second option is to set up a course much like the first part in the final level of the first Lego Star Wars. It's where you're running over a pit of lava on panels, and the panels fall away in a timely manner, no matter if you even walked on them or not. Remember, the falling panels must fall slowly enough that you don't have to sprint to avoid falling into the lava, but fast enough that you have to put forth some effort to move.
The third and last option is to have a friend whose WOC (weapon of Choice) is a hammer sneak up behind you, knock you out, and poke your unconscious body's brain. As your limp body flails about like tomorrow's sunday, your muscles will gradually loosen and you'll feel great.
Imma gonna go get some Granny's Beetroot Surprise. SInce I'm so desperate for a girl, I suppose Hilda will have to do.
Geez, you weren't supposed to read that, Soren!
Oops, did I type what I was talking again? My bad.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
I am so sore.
What with Bard Camp and the Viking Soccer Team try-outs, I feel like a bunch of un-cooked spaghetti being forced to move like cooked spaghetti. It's torture.
So, what do we Vikings do to alleviate soreness? Well, I'll tell you.
There are one of three options you may choose should you want to loosen up. The first is simple: rub a bunch of Granny's Beetroot surprise on the sore parts. Soren the Hard-of-Hearing Scribe uses that one often, though I think its just because he has a thing for our local Granny, Hilda the Granny, to be precise. But don't worry: Any granny can work.
The second option is to set up a course much like the first part in the final level of the first Lego Star Wars. It's where you're running over a pit of lava on panels, and the panels fall away in a timely manner, no matter if you even walked on them or not. Remember, the falling panels must fall slowly enough that you don't have to sprint to avoid falling into the lava, but fast enough that you have to put forth some effort to move.
The third and last option is to have a friend whose WOC (weapon of Choice) is a hammer sneak up behind you, knock you out, and poke your unconscious body's brain. As your limp body flails about like tomorrow's sunday, your muscles will gradually loosen and you'll feel great.
Imma gonna go get some Granny's Beetroot Surprise. SInce I'm so desperate for a girl, I suppose Hilda will have to do.
Geez, you weren't supposed to read that, Soren!
Oops, did I type what I was talking again? My bad.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Bardic Hats
Well, save for Bard Camp, summer is over. Since I've arrived at Bard camp, representing the Bloodhound II and its crew, I have learned some new propaganda Leif the Armless, the chief Viking leader, has put out. Most are too complex for your little minds, but let me tell you the main one:
VIKING BARDS ARE NO LONGER REQUIRED TO WEAR BATTLE HELMETS.
Shocking, isn't it? Apparently, the helmets interfere with bard's abilities to communicate with their Muses. I suppose that's true, since I've never heard any muses before. However, Viking Bards are still required to wear some sort of hat, though Vikings helmets can still be that choice if needed.
I, for one, have decided to keep the Duct Tape Monstrosity, but only as a back-up I'll-wear-it-occasionally hat. NO, the hat for me is a Trilby. Look it up, You're already on the internet anyway.
Yes, I have gone through another Wardrobe change, haven't I? Better than a Wardrobe Malfunction, I spose.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
PS: Don't forget to check out my good buddie's blog, omarhatesolaf.blogspot.com.
VIKING BARDS ARE NO LONGER REQUIRED TO WEAR BATTLE HELMETS.
Shocking, isn't it? Apparently, the helmets interfere with bard's abilities to communicate with their Muses. I suppose that's true, since I've never heard any muses before. However, Viking Bards are still required to wear some sort of hat, though Vikings helmets can still be that choice if needed.
I, for one, have decided to keep the Duct Tape Monstrosity, but only as a back-up I'll-wear-it-occasionally hat. NO, the hat for me is a Trilby. Look it up, You're already on the internet anyway.
Yes, I have gone through another Wardrobe change, haven't I? Better than a Wardrobe Malfunction, I spose.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
PS: Don't forget to check out my good buddie's blog, omarhatesolaf.blogspot.com.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Summer Files: Post UK
Welp, Omar and I are back. Gregory the Hairy Chieftain* commended me for sticking with the task on hand, and not spending too much time blogging this week. He then pulled Omar aside as yelled at him about something for a good five hours. I bet it was something about how he blogged too much, or something. I'm not going to find out, since I might inadvertantly steal some of the comedy gold Omar has on his site.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
*His name is Gregory the Hairy; and a Chieftain. Just wanted to clear that up.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
*His name is Gregory the Hairy; and a Chieftain. Just wanted to clear that up.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Summer Files: UK 8
I killed one Ninja Archmage today.
Omar killed two of those today.
He's keeping his own talley at omarhateolaf.blogspot.com.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
Omar killed two of those today.
He's keeping his own talley at omarhateolaf.blogspot.com.
Olaf the BAAAAALD!
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