Friday, October 26, 2007

October 26th, 2007

I am in love. Yep, you read that right. I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love! I just feel like jumping on the couch and belting to the world like Tom Cruise did on Oprah. And what, pray tell, is the object of my affection? Eggs with peanut butter.

Now, I know at first thought that might sound a little gross but trust me - it's divine. And simple, too. You start off with a hen and squeeze an egg out of its cloaca. Then you crack the egg and scramble it. This is the most important step -- you add a few tablespoons of peanut butter to the egg, mix it all up, then put it in the pan. If you're feeling extra salty you can add a few bacon bits. Or bacon grease. It doesn't matter. Wait till it all cooks up and viola! One scrum-diddly-ocious breakfast! Or in my case, breakfast, lunch and dinner.

For dessert I had a little Mexican flavor: Mexican rice, quesedilla and enchilada all smothered in sour cream. A mi me encanta!

The pre-production meetings for the next episode are going well. Especially the dance scene. Ooops - did I just let that slip? Yes, oh ye rabid fans - run amok with that little tidbit of information and speculate away for there certainly will be a dance scene in the next episode. If all goes well, filming should begin soon.

Does anyone out there miss my drawings? Because I miss drawing but I see no reason to draw unless someone makes a request because then I know that I'm drawing for someone which makes all the difference to me mentally because then I take a lot of time concentrating on all the lines in my stick figures.

And my bit finger is fine, by the way. Thanks for asking. Losers.

The picture is of my fifth second dinner. I mean... "dessert."

Mailbag --

Anonymous # 1 writes: "Hehehehe! Pooh!"

Answer: Please refrain from using profanity on my blog. Thank you.

Joseph Mallozzi writes: "Meh. I've seen eviler."

Answer: Normally I don't respond to comments like this, but I'll take that as a compliment coming from a man who's afraid of his own washing machine. Know how diabolical I am? I just throw all the colors in together and see what happens! (After selecting "delicate," "cold water only" and "gentle cycle," of course.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

October 24th, 2007

To Mr. Joseph Mallozzi who doth challenge me to maintain this blog, I hereby declare that I continue not because of your request, but because of the chivalry with which I live my life – the same code of honor that demands I maintain my public reputation as an amazing Sci Fi writer and as a far more devious villain than the likes of you.

I heard of your show’s renewal and guess what? Mine didn’t get renewed because it never has to get renewed because we have no budget and no one to answer to. Except for me. We answer to me. I mean I. I answer to myself. Because I’m the boss. Because I said so. Why? Because I’m Moe Jacuzzi.

To those of you who have been worried about my safety, I’d like to thank you and let you know that I am willing to brave the egg-wielding fans for the sake of maintaining communication with you all. Life just hasn’t been the same without your groveling.

I went to the doctor today. Little Jonida bit my finger the other day, you see, and I worried I would need stitches. “Though she be but little, she is fierce.” And she hath sharp teeth. The doctor took one look at me and started scribbling down notes.

“Don’t you need to examine my wound?” I asked.

“No,” he replied, itching his nose.

I was at a loss. I mean, seriously. What has this world come to? Was this doctor some sort of psychic who didn’t need to actually examine my injury but could feel my pain through the outer reachings of his effervescent mind? I. Think. Not. “What the hell?” I demanded. “Can’t you tell I’m in dying of agony here?”

He studied me from behind his half-moon spectacles. I briefly wondered if he were undressing me with his eyes. This thought, no doubt, came from my recent realizement that Dumbledore is a purple dumpling. Oh youth! You are but a fleeting thing! But I digress.

Well, it turns out the a-hole thought I was fat. He didn’t even look at my wound but sent me off with a Band-Aid and some Neosporin and a pamphlet about fat-burning exercises. I threw it into the first trash receptacle I came across. That’s right. I didn’t recycle. I’m a diabolic rebel.

Though when I got home Little Jonida gave me a very queer look. It brought me back to the moment that I sustained the injury in the first place. I had been trying to eat out of her food dish. Just a small smackerel. I’m sure you all can relate – that chopped beef and peas was just too enticing.

Though I did find a workout routine that works wonders for me. I thought I’d share it with you.

The picture is of my dinner on my new diet.

Mailbag -- No mailbag today. I’m a feeling a little brisk.