Saturday, January 6, 2007

FOB January 4

FOB Meeting, January 4th 2006


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.


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.


Sir Jupiter said...

Sir Jupiter sat in his room, fretting over how Tolkien Boy took the news that his writing was vaguely reminiscient of Dan Brown. But then Sir Jupiter looked over at his microsuede couch, which took him back to a holiday he once had in Venice. Memories were flooding back...but about what? He wondered. And then it hit him! The fabric was distinctly the same as a swath found in a small boutique found directly across from a fountain found in the town square. The fountain was of the Roman God Jupiter touching Aphrodite inappropriately--but what about right below that? Ah, of course! The secret signs, the all led to one conclusion!

"Tolkien Boy is a member of the Illuminati!" Sir Jupiter brusquely declared!


The coroner stood over Sir Jupiter's lifeless, cold, frigid, body that contained no life. "Looks like a run-of-the-mill homocide to me."

"Not a heterocide?" ASKED the Police Commissioner.

", looks like someone simply wanted his Arrested Development collect-hold on...what's this?" The coroner looked down. "Oh dear GOD, someone tattooed a word that can be read both right-side-up and upside down!"

"So which way is which?" ASKED the Police Commissioner.

"I don't know." The coroner began to read, "Antidisestablishmentarianism. Dear GOD, the longest word in the English Language. The Coroner was dumbfounded, until he remembered a vacation he took to the Louvre...

Weed said...

Okay, here it goes.


Definition: a smell.

Sentence: "You smell acrid... acridic. You smell acridic--ly! You smell acridicly."

Crap. That's an adverb.

...I can't handle this. *attempts suicide*

Th. said...


I can't believe thrusting the Master down to hell took thirteen hours!!!!!