Thursday, January 31, 2008

iDoodle like iSplotchy

I’m in the Danger Sled and flying to Washington to investigate Zartan’s clue. Since I’ve got a little time on my hands, I want to try something new. Or something borrowed, I guess.

I, Splotchy often draws a doodle for his fans (this one’s my fav!) and he gave me his blessing to try it as well, so today’s the day I’m going to show off my mad MS Paint skillz a little. It’s supposed to be a 60 second doodle, but we’ll see how that goes.

Here are the rules: First person to comment with a doodle idea gets it doodled. That’s it. Keep it reasonably clean, you sick little monkeys.

Update! Novy requested monkeyboys at play. What are they playing with? Bananas, of course.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Hudson: Trapped in the Closet

I was sitting there mindin’ my own B’s
When someone sneaked right up behind me’s
I got clobbered right in the back of my head
And I dropped to the ground like a fish that was dead
I heard a voice in the darkness say
“This will keep you out of the picture, out of the way.”
I mumbled “What picture? You don’t want me in a photo?”
The voice said “No I want you gone, you stupid dodo.”

And he bound and gagged me. He threw me in a closet.
And laughed “In here I’ll just make a little deposit.”
Then I think he left as everything grew silent
After this attack that was so violent.

I couldn’t understand who would do this to me.
And hit me in the head so violently
And throw me in a closet. Seriously
Now I think I’m getting a little hungry.
I hadn’t had dinner, and I know it’s about that time
I wish I had a C-Rat or an MRE or a pie of key lime
A hot dog, a Snickers, a can of sardines
Or a potato or an orange or a couple saltines.

Maybe someone would find me soon
As I am stuck in this mop room

I’m trapped in the closet.

Yeah, trapped in the closet.

Mmm, trapped in the closet.

I figure I’d be here for so long
But I need to focus and stay strong
Someone will get me out I am sure
Damn these ropes are so secure
The guy who tied them is no slouch
Did you know my favorite quarterback is Tim Couch?

Oh no, I was supposed to fly with Jon to Pittsburg at nine
Now I won’t get to use my “Two pickets to Titsburg” superfunny line.
That guy must’ve taken my clothes so he could take my place
Hah, that’ll never work, he can’t copy my handsome face

Another word for handsome is attractive or comely
But I’ll never get out of here, I’m trapped in the closet I thought glumly
To get tied up like this is something I might pay for
But only from the ladies, the H-Man ain’t no manwhore

I’m trapped in the closet

Trapped in the closet

“Hey, is someone in there?” I heard a voice say.
“Yeah, I’m trapped in the closet!” I shout out right away.
“You sure are,” he said. “And someone did a good job
“And I can’t get the door open, that someone broke the doorknob.”

To him I said “Did you notice that we are talking in rhyme?”
“Oh sure,” he said back. “I do it all the time.
“’Cuz I sure love Dr. Suess
“And Mother Goose.”
I answered “I heard they’re making a sequel to Footloose.”
“Just hang on a sec,” he said. “I’ll have you out in a jif.
“I’ve got to take the hinges off, but they seem a little stiff.”

So he’ll soon get me out, I’m sure I’ll soon be free
But until then I have to say that I will just be

Trapped in the closet

Trapped in the closet

Saturday, January 26, 2008

It's not what I remember, it's what I don't not remember...

“Other than a large purple bruise, your chest appears to be OK,” the first paramedic said to me. “We’d like to run you into the hospital to be sure, though.”

“Funny thing is,” the second said. “If you were shot in the chest, why would you have amnesia? Amnesia typically comes from head trauma.”

“Maybe getting shot in a burning building caused the trauma,” the first suggested. “Can you remember anything, sir?”

“Yeah,” I thought and thought. “I can remember…”

“What is it?” the second paramedic said as the two leaned closer.

“I remember… the Alamo,” I answered.

“Funny,” the second paramedic said. “You’re a real comedian.”

“No wait,” I answered. “There was a travel brochure for San Antonio on the counter. It had the Alamo on the cover.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah,” I added glumly as everything else on the counter rushed back into my head. “I also remember the Seattle Space Needle, the Hollywood Sign, and the Sears Tower.”

Wait a minute, the Sears Tower? I see that thing all the time. I’m from Chicago.

“So you saw a lot of travel brochures,” the first paramedic said. “Maybe you were going to take a vacation.”

“No wait,” more information crashed into my head. “My name is Jon.”


“Yes,” I answered. I was starting to remember everything. “Jon… the Intergalactic Gladiator.”

“Interga-what?” the paramedic asked in disbelief. “Maybe we should bring you in to have your head checked out.”

“No no, I’m fine now. It’s all coming back to me,” I assured them. “Plus I have this creepy old guy in my head saying my name over and over again. So I totally remember now. Honest.”

“Oh yeah,” the other paramedic said. “We definitely need to get you to the hospital. Maybe it’s just a concussion.”

I can’t let them take me in. Zartan and Mystique are getting further away and if I don’t get going now, I’ll never catch them.

“No need,” I replied. “I have an appointment elsewhere that I must attend.”

Before they could answer, I aimed my Wristcomm skyward and fired the harpoon. It hit its mark on the top of the building and the monofilament cable reeled back in, hoisting me into the air.

“Whoa, that was a pretty cool exit,” the first paramedic said to the second.

“Yeah, way cooler than Batman,” the second agreed.

“No way,” the first said. “Batman’s exits are always the coolest.”

“Yeah, but he was just a regular Joe doing it,” the second said. “Not some superhero with a black cape and all.”

“That’s what makes Batman’s better,” the first said. “He’s got the cape, man.”

* * *

I dropped right in front of Zartan, who was attempting to make his getaway through an alley a few blocks away.

“Going somewhere?” I asked.

“Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator!” Zartan shouted in surprise. “But I thought you were—”

“Dead?” I answered. “The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

“What rumors?” he asked. “I shot you in the chest.”

“I was going for a literary reference,” I sighed. “You know, Mark Twain.”

“Yeah, I don’t see how that fits here, really,” Zartan shrugged.

“Never mind. This set up to knock me out of the presidential race and put you in,” I growled. “I want to know who hired you.”

“Nobody hired me, fool!” Zartan smiled smugly. “I’m doing this all on my own.”

“I don’t think so,” I answered. “I’ve read up on you and I know this type of an operation isn’t your style. “You’re only in it for the money; therefore, someone must have hired you for this.”

“And you think I’m just going hand you a name?” He drew his pistol. “You are a fool.”

I spun around and kicked the weapon from his hand. I spun again and my second kick sent him flying. He quickly got up and assumed an unusual fighting stance.

“I must warn you,” he smiled. “I am highly trained in the ancient and forbidden Eastern martial arts. Hiiiiii!”

“I doubt it,” I answered as I blocked his kick. “You are a skilled assassin and perhaps the greatest master of disguise on this planet, but I doubt you are anything else.”

“Shows what you know,” he swung at me again. “I am a ninja.”

“Again, I don’t believe you,” I answered as I caught his arm and flipped him over me. “If you were, why would you need to brag about it?”

“Argh!” I he snarled and flung himself at me again.

“For instance, I’m a master of the deadly Kairos Fu,” I said as I spun away from his attack.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” the master of disguise sneered as he threw a fist at me again.

“Nothing,” I answered as I threw him down again. “I just made it up, but it sure sounded cool, didn’t it? And you’re nothing but trash.”

To drive home that point, I hit him with a garbage can. OK, I admit it, when I saw the can there I knew that I had to use it as a weapon along with a witty action hero line.

“Wait, wait,” Zartan pleaded.

“You’re not going to ask for mercy are you?” I asked sourly. I grabbed him by his coat and pulled him up close to me. From out of his coat a folded sheet of paper poked out. “What’s this?”

“Uh, nothing,” the Dreadnok leader answered innocently.

“Yoink!” I pulled it out and took a look at it. “An itinerary for a flight to Washington DC.”

“No kidding,” Zartan replied sarcastically. “Wow, you sure are some master detective, aren’t you?”

“This is for one. What about Mystique? Where’s she, huh?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “We split up after we left her place.”

“Really?” I scoffed. “After you two were getting all hot and heavy in her shop you just decided to part ways?”

“Fine,” he gave in. “We made out behind a van in the alley for 20 minutes or so, then she took off. Happy?”

“Ew, no, too much information,” I winced. “So who are you going to see in Washington? Tell me!”

“Why should I tell you?”

“Oh I don’t know, I guess I could kick you around this alley a little more.”

“All right, all right,” he conceded. “My employer did not give me his name but I was supposed to meet him to receive my payment.”

“Where?” I demanded, pulling him closer by his jacket.

“When it’s time for change in Washington, where would you go?” Zartan asked mysteriously.

“I dunno,” I shrugged.

“That’s the clue,” Zartan said. “When it’s time for change in Washington, where would you go?”

“Time for change, huh? Well it wouldn’t be congress, they don’t like change.”

“No no, you’re not getting the clue right,” Zartan sighed. “When it’s time for change…”

“Time for change,” I repeated. “Oh, that could be a bank. Or maybe a laundromat, you can get change there.”

“Argh, no you’re still not getting the clue, idiot,” Zartan spat. “When it’s time for change! Time! Time is the clue!”

“Oh OK,” I said. “Thanks I guess. Hey!”

I was caught off guard as Zartan disappeared right in front of me. I was so surprised by it that I loosened my grip and he shook himself free. I know it was just some sort of holographic trick that he pulled so I couldn’t see him, but it was a total rookie move of me to let him go like that.

“Ha ha ha ha ha! See you later, Joes!” his laughter echoed off the alley walls.

“That’s Jon!” I shouted.


Sunday, January 20, 2008

Let's see, where am I?

Ah, it sure is nice here. Warm, too.

I must be on vacation in sunny Acapulco. I’ll just sit back here on the beach and relax, get a tan, maybe have a couple cervezas. This is nice, I sure could use this little getaway.

Wait a minute, it feels a little too warm. In fact, it’s hotter than Hell here. Maybe I’ll just open my eyes to figure out where I am.


That looked like a fire right in front of me, that’s not good. Okay, okay, I’ll just open my eyes one more time just to be sure.


Yeah, I’m surrounded by fire alright. I’ll have to get myself out of here and then figure out what I’ll do next. Let’s see, there’s a counter over there and a storefront window over there. Think I’ll go with the window.

The window shattered as I threw a stool through the pane. I dove out through the new exit and made an excellent forward roll just as flames erupted right behind me. I picked myself up and stumbled away from the inferno, brushing off my arms and legs as I moved.

Wow, that was pretty cool of me; I did that just like an action hero or something. I wonder if I am an action hero or something. Wait a minute, I don’t know if I’m an action hero or not. Wait a minute again, I don’t know who I am.

Huh. I seem to have amnesia or something. That’s funny because I thought people only got amnesia to generate cheap drama in lame storylines.

Okay, I’m out of immediate danger so I guess my next task is to figure out who I am. Let’s see, my chest hurts like crazy, let’s see why.

I opened up my shirt and looked at the ballistic vest that I was wearing. Embedded in it was a 9mm slug. I should count my blessings, if the round was any bigger, it probably would have gotten through the vest. I can feel the bruise there from the impact, though. That’s a pain that’s gonna linger. Maybe I’m a cop or government agent or something.

Okay, now what’s this thing that I’m holding? It looks like some sort of futuristic Sci Fi weapon or something. I must have instinctively grabbed it before I jumped through the window. Looks like it’s got some kind of communicator and a weapon or something on it. Huh. If it’s some kind of futuristic weapon, maybe I’m some kind of interstellar combatant or something. Oh come on, that sounds ridiculous.

“Hold on there! Are you OK?”

I looked over at the source of the sound. Two paramedics were running up towards me.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I waved them off. “I think.”

“Holy--! Were you shot in the chest?” One of them asked as I stumbled into their arms.

“I think so,” I answered.

“We’ll take care of you,” the other paramedic said. “Just sit down here and we’ll take a look at you.”

“I’m OK,” I assured them. “Just give me a minute to get my bearings.”

“Is there anyone else in there?” a firefighter ran up and asked.

“I dunno,” I shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” he asked. “Is there or is there not anyone else in there?”

“I don’t know,” I repeated. “I’m not sure what I’m doing here.”

“What, you got amnesia or something?” the firefighter snorted. “What kind of pansy [beep] piece of [beep] is that?”

“Hey cut him a little slack,” a paramedic defended me. “He just dove out of a burning building.”

“Yeah, how do we know he didn’t start it, huh?” the fireman demanded. “How do we know this [beep][beep] jack [beep] didn’t start that fire?”

“Just lay off,” the other paramedic stood up. “We’ll take care of him, you take care of the fire.”

The firefighter stormed off cursing under his breath.

“Wow,” I exhaled. “Are all the firefighter around here like that?”

“Naw, he’s just from New York,” one paramedic answered.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Mystique and Zartan and 10,000 volts, oh my

Professor! I thought to Xavier. Zartan is about to zap you with 10,000 volts of electricity! Your chair is booby trapped!

Don't worry, Jon, the telepath replied. I’ll just take control of Zartan’s mind and . . . oh damn!


He’s got one of Magneto’s psionic blockers. Why is that everyone with a cowl - OW!!

Ow? I repeated. Professor, can you hear me? Are you there?

He didn’t respond. I couldn’t feel his presence in my mind at all. I couldn’t hear him or feel that slight buzzing in my head. Nothing. Not even that slight twinge in the back of my brain telling me how he would make a great vice president.

“Professor!” I yelled out loud.

“Ha ha ha, that’s one out of the way. Now let’s make it two for two.” Zartan leveled his pistol at my chest.

“Screw you, hood head,” I growled back. He had me dead to rights, though. No chance of him missing at that range. Not even the lamest Cobra trooper with the shakiest aim could miss this close.

“Insolent to the end,” the master of disguise gloated. “Fortunately, that will be very soon.”

“Zartan, I still can’t move,” Mystique called out from her position on the floor. “I can’t feel my feet.”

“Shut up,” he shot back. “I’m cleaning up your mess here.”

“My mess? How would I know that you were out to discredit Jon and his campaign as well?”

“For someone who claims to be a master of disguise and a world-class assassin, you sure don’t pay attention very well,” he snorted.

“You arrogant bastard.” She spun around and crawled towards him. “Give me a few minutes to recover and I’ll show you what a world-class assassin can do.”

“I truly am scared,” the leader of the Dreadnoks mocked. “Are you going to assassinate my ankle?”

“Low down, dirty,” she gritted through her teeth.

“Sneaky, manipulative,” he spat back.

“Conniving, criminal.” She crawled up to his legs.

“Revolting, calculating.” He bent down and glared in her face.

They paused a moment and stared into each other’s eyes. They then threw their arms around each other began to kiss passionately.

Seeing my one (albeit disgusting) chance appear right before me, I inched closer to my Wristcomm still sitting on the floor where I dropped it earlier.

“Don’t even think about it.” The mercenary snapped his gun back in my direction.

“What?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I saw you moving towards your weapon.” With his still pointed at me, he slid sideways towards my Wristcomm. “Maybe I’ll shoot you with it instead.”

“That’ll be ironic,” I muttered back.

“Shut up.” He reached down to pick it up but received his own shock for his efforts. “Yeow! That thing’s electrified!”

“My own little security measure to make sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands,” I answered. “Sorry it wasn’t 10,000 volts.”

“Yeah, too bad.” Zartan pulled the trigger on his pistol and shot me right in the chest. I felt the pain of the impact as I lurched back and crumpled to the ground.

“Nice,” Mystique purred. She pulled out her own remote and thumbed the button. “We should get a move on, darling. Things are about to get real hot in here.”

“You’re going to blow up your front?” he asked. I was starting to get dizzy. Black shadows curled around my vision.

“Don’t worry, I’m insured,” she answered. “This will look like a gas leak.”

“Lady, I like your style,” he smiled as he scooped her up into his arms and guided her out the door. “See you later, Jon. Or I suppose not! Ha ha ha!”

Curled up on the ground and clutching my chest, I could hear the door chime as they made their exit. Darkness completely enveloped my vision. I felt the heat rise as my head dropped to the floor.

Monday, January 14, 2008

Disguise her? I hardly know her!

With our covers set, Hudson went into Dis Guy’s Inc. on his cue and I waited for mine to follow him in.

“The name’s Hammer, Rod Hammer,” he leered at the lone woman in the shop (obviously Mystique in her own disguise). “I’m looking for a hot chick.”

“Try Los Angeles,” she shot back. “I’m sure there are plenty of hot chicks there.”

“Naw baby,” Hudson continued to leer. “I’m looking for a hot chick who can look like a different hot chick. Catch my drift?”

“So you’re looking for a costume for a woman or something?” she asked. “Or a woman’s costume for you?”

“No, I don’t want a woman’s costume,” Hudson rolled his eyes. “I want to hire a woman to wear a costume.”

“Keep your creepy fantasies to yourself, pal,” she answered. “I run a legitimate operation here.”

“No no no,” he waved his hands. “I want to hire a woman to go undercover.”


“Yeah, my name’s Hammer, Rod Hammer. I’m a total dick. No wait, I mean I’m a private dick.”

“I think you got it right the first time,” she quipped back.

“I’m looking for a woman to go undercover for me,” he repeated while completely ignoring her comment. “A totally hot chick. A totally hot blue chick.”

“A hot blue chick?” Mystique in disguise asked. “Maybe you should check out Cirque du Soleil. I think they’re playing in Vegas.”

“No no no, wait,” he waved his hands again. “I’m looking for a certain particular master of disguise who also happens to be a hot blue chick. Catch my drift?”

I was starting to lose my patience with Hudson’s buffoonery when Professor Xavier sent me a mental cue to go in. I hitched up my pants and stepped through the door.

“Excuse me one moment, sir,” Mystique held up her finger to me. “I’ll help you right after I—hey, aren’t you Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator? I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

I growled to myself mentally and took off my disguise. “I don’t. How’d you know it was me?”

“Well I recognize you from your campaign commercials,” she replied. “Plus there are those pictures of you all over the Internet with that one woman. What was her name? Emma something.”

“It was Emma Frost,” I growled at her. “Except it wasn’t her, it was you. And we’ve never been together. Not that night when the photos were taken, not any night.”

Jon, calm down, Xavier’s voice buzzed in my head. She’s a master of trickery and deceit and easily saw through your disguise. Do something quickly!

Don’t worry, I thought back to Xavier. I’m moving on to Plan B.

Plan B? What’s Plan B?

I’m not sure, I replied in my mind to his. I’m making it up as I go along.

“Very well, I admit it was me,” she smiled at me like a cobra smiles at its trapped prey. “But, that was a pretty magical night between us. I don’t normally feel that way about my missions, but there was something special about what we had, like we’re kindred spirits or something. If you want another, maybe we can work something out.”

“I’m telling you, that wasn’t me,” I growled again. “I want to know who hired you right now.”

“Or you’ll what?” Mystique dropped her disguise and assumed a fighting stance. “I was hoping our next meeting would be a little more like our last one. Too bad.”

“Arrgh! That wasn’t me!” I yelled as I fired the sonic disrupter at her and she crumpled to the floor from the blast. “Now tell me who hired you!”

“I… I don’t know,” she managed to gasp while sprawled across the hardwood. “I really thought it was you…”

Jon, she really doesn’t know, the Professor telepathically said to me. With her guard down like this, I can clearly read the truth from her mind.

“Then who was it?” I threw my hands up in the air. My frustration was interrupted by a laugh. A laugh that became more tinny as well as gained an echo effect as it grew. A laugh coming from Hudson. “Hudson?”

“Ha ha ha!” The marine peeled a rubber mask off, revealing a different face underneath. The face of Zartan, Master of Disguise! “You have fallen for my plan all along, foolish Joes!”

“Joes?” I asked. “My name’s Jon.”

“Oh sorry, force of habit,” he shrugged. He then pulled an ominous looking pistol out and aimed it square at my chest. “Now if you’ll be so kind as to drop your wrist weapon to the ground and put your hands up.”

Professor, I thought quickly as my Wristcomm clattered to the floor. How could you not tell that he wasn’t Hudson?

This Zartan had Hudson’s speech and mannerisms down absolutely perfectly, the telepath replied. He’s good enough to fool anyone.

Yeah, but why couldn’t you tell it was him from a mental scan?

Jon, the less time I spend in that man’s brain, the more I like it, the telepath replied. Quick! If you’re lucky, he may start rambling about his plan and give you enough time to attack!

“Wait a minute,” I said trying to stall. “So the me in that picture was really you!”

“Of course,” he bowed slightly. “It was easy, all I needed was a little bluster and some lame action hero lines!”

“Hey come on, that hurts,” I replied. “So where’s the real Hudson?”

“Oh, I knocked him out back at your last presidential debate,” he answered with a smug grin. “I took his clothes, tied him up, and threw him in a janitor’s closet.”

“So he’s tied up, in his underwear, and thrown in a locked closet?” I asked. “You know, usually he pays good money for treatment like that.”

“Ha ha ha, no matter,” he laughed. “With you out of the way, I’ll take your place and become the next president of the United States!”

“That’ll never work!” I growled back. “The people of America will never elect an evil president!”

“Oh but they will, and they’ll reelect me in four years as well!” he laughed as he pulled out some sort of remote control. “But first, I have one more loose end to take care of.”

“You’re not going to make me watch reruns of Two and a Half Men are you?” I asked. “You’re more evil than I thought!”

“No, this is for your friend the Professor,” he laughed. “I have a little surprise for him, one that I’m sure he’ll get quite a jolt out of!”

“Jolt? Like that Jolt Cola?” I asked. “Do they still make that stuff?”

“A jolt as in a charge. He’ll get a charge out of this, ha ha!”

“Get a charge?” I asked. “Like a credit card? Are you going to run up his credit bill?”

“No, something more electrifying than that!”

“Electrifying? Like a really exciting movie or something?”

“Argh! No you fool!” Zartan threw his arms up. “I booby trapped his wheelchair, when I press this button, 10,000 volts of electricity to fry that pompous jerk’s body until he’s little more than a pile of ash and a memory.”

“Wait,” I tried to stall him more. “Don’t do it!”

“Too late, Joes! Er, I mean Jon!” Zartan’s thumb meshed down the red button on the remote.

Wednesday, January 09, 2008

Anyone check out WAAE's new album "They Do So" yet? It rawkszsz!!1!

I got this over at I, Splotchy, and it looked like an entertaining way to kill a few minutes, er make an entertaining post.

First, the rules:

Let's Make a Band:
The first article title on the page is the name of your band.

The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.

The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover. You then take the pic and add your band name and the album title to it, then post your pic.

And so I am proud to show you:

My results came from:
WAAE, a religious radio station in North Carolina, though I think it does work as a one word name from some kooky foreign singer ala Bjork.
"Many people would sooner die than think; In fact, they do so." From Bertrand Russell. In theory, the album should be Fact, They Do So, but I think They Do So is a little more concise and crisp.
The picture is Harlequin by Sarah Sitkin. She's got some cool stuff so check it out. Just don't tell her I sent you because I used the pic without her permission, but then again she shouldn't mind because I'm not making any money off this and from one artist to another, it really shows how I appreciate her work, right? Right?

Monday, January 07, 2008

A funny thing happened on the way to the bathroom

So I was going into the bathroom the other morning when I detected a very noticeable lime smell in the air. It took me but a moment to discover that the contents of my can of shaving cream were spewing out like some sort of foamy citrus-scented volcano.

Stay back everybody, I’ll handle this. I’m a trained professional.

Thursday, January 03, 2008

Oh, my belly...

OK, I admit it. I put on a few pounds over the holidays. It happens, I know, but an Intergalactic Gladiator shouldn’t really be showing off a large belly. You know, unless that’s his gimmick or something.

So I made it my resolution to drop 10 pounds and I was fairly certain that I could do it easily, but then I went to a New Year’s Day party at a friends and during the Rose Bowl (Illinois lost, unfortunately), everyone was all like “Hey, let’s have a hot dog eating contest.”

Well who am I to turn down a challenge?

So I participated in the contest and I won naturally, I am after all, an Intergalactic Gladiator and the blood of heroes courses through my veins, the adrenaline of champions wells up within me. You know, that kind of stuff.

So I think enough of that, I really have to go on a diet now, but then everyone was all like “Hey, let’s have a pie eating contest!”

Once again, I am up to the challenge. I love pie as much as the next guy, you know, and none could escape my wrathful bite.

Now I’m starting to feel all full and everything. I think I just want to sit down and take a little break, but guess what happens next? That’s right, everyone declared a corn on the cob eating contest. How could I possibly say no?

So I am absolutely stuffed from my victory there as well. I couldn’t possibly eat another bite when a couple guys started arguing over how many eggs a guy can eat. No way could a man eat one hundred eggs they say.

“I can eat a hundred,” I answer.

“No way,” they say.

“Way,” I reply.

“No way can a man eat a hundred eggs in one sitting,” they say.

“I can,” I reply coolly.

So one more challenge is thrown down and I am ready to go. I was eating pretty well at first, but then around 70 or so, it really started to hit me.

I got up to 96 and I could barely eat another bite, fortunately veteran character actor George Kennedy was there to stuff them in my mouth.

I won.

Man, is my stomach killing me. I think I need to go on a diet.

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

Happy New Year

Wow, I'm tired. Too tired to blog. I think I'll just run a rerun.

Happy New Year

Happy New Year from the Intergalactic Gladiator.

Since personal improvement has always been a hobby of mine, my New Year's resolution is to make this blog as entertaining as I possibly can.

That's right, my promise to all my Junior Intergalactic Gladiators is to make this the funniest, cleverest, most compelling blog about an Intergalactic Gladiator available on the InterNET.

Starting right after this post.


Yeah, that did the trick. Happy New Year