Saturday, May 12, 2007

Arrgh

Soooo...I'd kind of like to be a pirate.
Ok, maybe not BE a pirate. Maybe I'd just like to talk like one. And to hell with Speak Like A Pirate Day. That's, like, one day a year. No, I'd like to talk like a pirate EVERY day.
Ok, maybe not EVERY day, but most days.
Maybe some days.
Ok, maybe just today. Unless I can do some kind of, I don't know, Pirate Wednesday. Or something.
Oh, I know. In honor of Mother's day, we'll be talking Pirate. A day early.
Scurvy dog.
So I'm going to relate a not-at-all interesting story in Pirate in the hopes that it will intrinsically become more interesting.
Here goes.
(ahem.)
Aaargh! Aye was lookin' at me local rag and a small ad caught me eye. Arrgh, no, me hearties, it was naught an ad for rum, but for a local boutique. Aaargh. Me seein-eye parrot informed me that there was a URL in the ad so we hauled ourselves out o' the brig to cast our remainin' eye upon't. Aarrgh, but it was a pleasin' website. There was even a link to the starboard side of the page that me seein-eye parrot informed me was maybe worth gawkin' at. 'Twas for a painter's personal webpage me hearties, and what a painter she is. Reminded me straight off of a young lad I knew, aargh, many years ago who was also a painter. Aye, and still is. When I was reminded of the young fellow, I found meself doin' a bit of the Googlin' and lo and behold, maties, but there he was! In all his glory! On a webpage! For his band! On MySpace!
Aaarrrgh, but I thought I'd never see the day, me hearties. After staggerin' back from the galley with me rum I decided to try to send him a note. Aaargh, but I was fit to be keelhauled! In order to send a note to that scurvy dog I had to sign meself up on MySpace, a place I promised me seein-eye parrot I'd never go again after the humiliation of garnerin' only three friends the last time I had an account. Me seein-eye parrot threatened mutiny, but, aaarrgh, I keep his wings clipped, heh heh, scurvy dog that he is.

Phew. That was tiring.
So yes, my best friend from High School and also kindergarten has a really great sounding band and he lives in the city and I fucking signed up to fucking MySpace again just so that I could say hi to him because calling his mom to get his new phone number seemed harder. Even though I still totally know his old phone number by heart, which, aaarrrgh. What kind of useful information has not been able to take root in my brain because I remember his childhood phone number?
Probably not enough to make a reasonable argument for my stupidity.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Shiver me timbers, yar.

11:38 AM  
Blogger Lainey-Paney said...

Hey...my friend Jamie & I talk like Pirates all of the time.
It's fun.
Argh!

9:46 AM  

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