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Sunday, June 2, 2013

The Post Where I Explain My Absence

Lots of bloggers will explain their absence. Many even tell the truth when they do so.

But how many try to explain their absence while capturing as many weird Google search hits as possible?

Only Owen Astrakhan lays that down on you.





This story begins on the sasquatch skin sofa in my living room. There I was in deep conversation with an achondroplastic dwarf French mime. "You can't be totally sure that a carrot juice diet doesn't cause spontaneous eyeball explosions," he noted while puffing on his bonsai kitten corn cob pipe.

"You might be right," I replied while moving my soda can slippers from the coffee table to the floor. "And in addition to that I must ponder if the word 'pepper' might be a stealth racist term."

"That sounds like a question only a lesbian honey bee could answer," said the achondroplastic dwarf French mime dumping the ashes from his pipe into the wastebasket then pulling out a condor feather wallet.

The next day I conveyed myself to the Institute On Amanda Bynes Mass Lawsuits to try and get some answers. I walked in the door while having a brief asprin induced asthma attack. Then, after recovery, I walked over to the receptionist.

"Is this where I can determine if the Helvetica font is superior to a Maserati supercar?" I asked the obviously Khoisian lady serving as the receptionist.

"No, this is where we investigate the religious implications of tomato fetishes."

Damn. I was in the wrong place. I ran back outside to my new Kangaroo Super Scooter to zip down the highway.  I passed the giant statue devoted to Junior Mint related surgical tragedies then found myself where I was pretty sure I wanted to go: The Charles In Charge Memorial Hospital.


In other words I was sick a lot. Also lazy. Then there was that whole misunderstanding with that former spy guy that thought I had abducted his daughter to sell to skeevey billionaires. That was all straightened out once he ran out of bones to break. Actually I just told him to go to an abandoned Dairy Queen right away. I don't hold up well under torture. Mostly on account of me hating pain.


Can-flashlights-cause-you-to-pee-acid?


Sorry, I just had to get in one more.

#GoogleMining

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