Synchronized punctuation (dress rehearsal)

.

......................................
??????????????????????????????????????
??????????????...........?????????????
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!----!!!!!!!!!!!!!
{}{}{{][][][}{][}{}[{}}[{}}[}{[]}[{}[]
#@..................!!!!!!!/!/!/!/!/!/
????!!!!????!!!!????!!!!????!!!!????!!
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Alas

.

I have learned nothing.

Foblimericks (now with added FOB)

Sir Jupiter told of a man vying
a beautiful chick to be lying.
But--not even the sages
in US Weekly pages
could know that the man would be dying!

Tolkien Boy slyly derailed us
with superheroes. How they regaled us!
But unless he corrects
this absence of sex,
oh! How the fellow has failed us!

Master Fob--well, what can we say?
He's always been sort of "that way."
It's not so much the bangles,
but, yes, the hard angles
that help us to know that he's gay.

Weed knows that pure elocution
can often be cause for confusion.
Abstinence, that's the thing,
so he neglected to bring
any writing, to gain absolution.

I would just like to point out

that Edgy's most recent post is currently at the top of the "Recent Fobbings" sidebar thingee. Apparently this is important to him.

Fob Minutes 1/18/07

(Just the highlights.)

• Weed forgot his fobbery in a Taco Bell in Tukwila. He spent the evening in shame.
• Sir Jupiter apologized.
• Baby Weed and Baby Fob flirted.
  
• Sir Jupiter apologized.
  
• Mrs. Weed was the only one to laugh at Master Fob's oh-so-clever jokes. Master Fob is considering inviting her to replace her husband in the Fob pantheon.
• Sir Jupiter apologized.
  
• Sir Jupiter suggested that Master Fob sprinkle Foxy J throughout. Master Fob ensured everyone that he had already intended to do so.
• Sir Jupiter apologized.
• Tolkien Boy's story stopped suddenly before the superhero and the superhenchman got to know each other. All were disappointed and look forward to reading the climax next time.
  
• Sir Jupiter ended the night with an apology.
  

Where have all the Fobs gone?

I was blog jumping tonight (this morning) and found myself on the old Foblog, reading "minutes" from the great summer of Fobbing. And then I returned to this so-called "new and improved" Foblog, and while I was happy to read the 12 Fobs of Christmas once again, I wondered what had happened to all my fellow Fobs. Allow me to hypothesize.

Master Fob got lost in the stacks.
Theric decided to take his "Thou Shalt Publish" speech on the road. He's playing Mississippi this week.
Jeph is dead. (That one was easy.)
Tolkien Boy quit grad school and is auditioning to be a munchkin in the stage version of Master Fob's Oz novel.
Queen Zippergut is having sex. Again.
The Marchioness found a time machine and sped off to the 1800s in search of her Mr. Darcy.
Weed got beat up on the playground.
Melyngoch hitched a ride with the Marchioness and is now being courted by Beowulf.
editorgirl. . . oh wait. I'm here.
Sir Jupiter is in orbit.
Straight Happily Married Friend of Gay Ex-Boyfriend Chick is petitioning for a better pseudonym.
Edgy Killer Bunny is buried under the stack of books that got tired of waiting on his nightstand.
And faithful Petra, our mascot? She's become the world's most famous mascot and now considers herself too busy for the likes of us.

That was fun. But I miss you. Come back.

The Illustrated Fobs of Christmas

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
My true fob sent to me

Twelve Santas kissing,


Eleven teachers teaching,


Ten stalkers stalking,


Nine alpha entries,


Eight Mormons cussing,


Seven shoulders winging,


Six maids unmarried,


FIVE GAY SEX SCENES!


Four times a-fobbed,


Three Moral Peeps,


Two Costco cakes,


And a starling in Tehachapi.

FOB January 4

FOB Meeting, January 4th 2006

MEETING MINUTES

In Attendance:
Master Fob, President
Tolkien Boy, Vice-President
Weed, Secretary
Sir Jupiter, Master-At-Arms

8:30 pm Arrival of President, Vice-President, and Master-at-Arms to Secretary's home. Embrassos all around. Master-at-Arms effusively praises Secretary's decor--in response, the Secretary runs to the bathroom for some urgent "business."
8:45 pm Reading of Master-at-Arms's work entitled "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus," followed by rigorous debate over the meaning of the phrase "consenting adults." The proper insertion but improper use of various female hygiene products was reviewed. Vice-President takes exception to the phrase "he brusquely declared" in relation to an apparent game of patty-cake in the text. Master-at Arms promises to revise his story, claiming he will "flesh out the mother to make the climax more satisfying."
9:30 pm Reading of President's first essay chapter, in which the President describes himself in terms of various superheros. Rumination of what the President would look like in spandex followed, with the Secretary excusing himself to the bathroom for some more urgent "business." President takes takes time to tell Master-at-Arms and Vice-President about real-life story involving his manhood--or, rather, his lack thereof. Master-at-Arms didn't hear much of the story, however, as he was still giggling over one of President's supervillians with the cute epithet "The Exhibitionist" who exposed himself to his victims before he killed them--or, as President put it, "He flashes and then slashes!"
10:15 pm Reading of the Secretary's short chapter, which bore the Vice-President-appointed title "Somewhere South of Us, I Think," which speaks of a mother's desire for her young son to see her native land. Vice-President gaffed concerning the sub-equatorial South American nation mentioned in the text and was subjected to geographically-motivated scorn. The issue of children extending from their parents' paternal trunks was raised, but Master-at-Arms ended the debate with the confession that he has done a lot of pulsating in his day.
11:00 pm Vice-President reads story concerning a middle-aged woman and a half-man, half-goat monstrosity. Much speaking of bestiality follows. The Master-at-Arms makes snide comparison of Vice-President's writing to that of Dan Brown. Frank exchange of ideas between
Vice-President and Master-at-Arms. Master-at-Arms is speedily thrust down to Hell, but not before making snide comments about how Anna Karenina's literary success preempts any other story from utilizing a railroad station as a setting.
12:00 pm Break-up of the Fobs, with many promises for future literary exploits. Vice-President excuses himself to the bathroom for some urgent "business." Business completed, embrassos all round.

NOTES FOR NEXT MEETING:

Define "acrid." Use it in a sentence.
If Robin and Batman have something going on--and no one has ever said they don't--then can you use them as an archetype of the perfect mentor/boy relationship? Wouldn't someone like Plato and Socrates be a better choice? Discuss.
What's the first thing you would notice if you walked in on a rape scene? Would it change if one of the parties was Santa Claus? Show your work.
Get naked and jump into a blackberry bramble. Make notes of where you bleed (if at all) and how much you bleed. Write your answers in cubic liters.

The All-New Foblog!

(Until the old one gets fixed.)

Twelfth Fob

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
My true fob sent to me
Twelve Santas kissing*,
Eleven teachers teaching,
Ten stalkers stalking,
Nine alpha entries,
Eight Mormons cussing,
Seven shoulders winging,
Six maids unmarried,
FIVE GAY SEX SCENES!
Four times a-fobbed,
Three Moral Peeps,
Two Costco cakes,
And a starling in Tehachapi.


*No, silly, not each other. They were kissing your mom, inducing a heart attack in your father. Don't you read the news?

Eleventh Fob

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
My true fob sent to me
Eleven teachers teaching*,
Ten stalkers stalking,
Nine alpha entries,
Eight Mormons cussing,
Seven shoulders winging,
Six maids unmarried,
FIVE GAY SEX SCENES!
Four times a-fobbed,
Three Moral Peeps,
Two Costco cakes,
And a starling in Tehachapi.

*In a non-pedophiliac sort of way.

Tenth Fob

On the tenth day of Christmas,
My true fob sent to me
Ten stalkers stalking,
Nine alpha entries,
Eight Mormons cussing,
Seven shoulders winging,
Six maids unmarried,
FIVE GAY SEX SCENES!
Four times a-fobbed,
Three Moral Peeps,
Two Costco cakes,
And a starling in Tehachapi.

Ninth Fob

On the ninth day of Christmas,
My true fob sent to me
Nine alpha entries*,
Eight Mormons cussing,
Seven shoulders winging,
Six maids unmarried,
FIVE GAY SEX SCENES!
Four times a-fobbed,
Three Moral Peeps,
Two Costco cakes,
And a starling in Tehachapi.

*This is giving the Ninth Fob the benefit of the doubt, assuming a ninth one is coming shortly.

Eighth Fob

On the eighth day of Christmas,
My true fob sent to me
Eight Mormons cussing,
Seven shoulders winging,
Six maids unmarried,
FIVE GAY SEX SCENES!
Four times a-fobbed,
Three Moral Peeps,
Two Costco cakes,
And a starling in Tehachapi.