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Pwnage, Pwndness, and Pain

Three points:
  1. I apologize in advance for my remarks to the other teams in our division at the recent Reach Tournament, but there was much righteous pwnage happening at that event.
  2. I also apologize to my fellow attendees at the OCESS Astros' after-party for my evinced lack of skills at DDR, Halo 2, and Ghost Recon. I plead inability to play any game that doesn't involve any two of a keyboard, a mouse, and turns.
  3. I don't know why I mentioned pain in the title for this post. I needed a third noun that starts with P. Sue me.
Maybe my third word should have been Plaintiff. But that wouldn't have made any sense at the time.

It doesn't make any sense now, either, as a matter of fact.

I still haven't received any comments in response to my offer of three cwt of dung, a dead Indian, and the M4 Motorway. I would like to get these goods off of my hands, as the dung already smells bad, the Indian is putrefying and will soon smell worse than the dung (in addition to breeding parasitic insects), and I really have no use for a highway on another continent. The preceding sentence probably torpedoed any chance I might have had of convincing someone to take up my offer, but I really don't care. I'm too tired to care. I'm too tired to type the rest of this sentennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnblagh.


Anonymous said...

Bah...during YOUR afterparty, I beat up a week's worth of discrete homework. Isn't mission control glorious?

Единый, могучий Советский Союз! said...

Excellent, Brian! You posted a comment! Could you provide me with a shipping address for the dung, Indian, and highway?