I'm thinking about going to Mt. Coot-tha with
Dame Coot in my shiny, new Coot Amphibian. We might even go coot hunting. I thought about picking up an Old Coot Ventriloquist Figure for the trip, but they're a little pricey.
My friend Kelly Crumplestiltskin often entertained us in high school by pretending to fall down the stairs. In the between-class rush, he'd all of a sudden stumble down the stairs like he was about to go ass over teakettle, but he was always in total control. And Kelly was this tall, skinny kid with a big mop of curly hair and an ever-present Rigor Mortis shirt, so it was quite hilarious to see him sliding down the steps with limbs flying everywhere as he screamed, "oh FUCK holy SHIT jesus CHRIST!" I'll never know how he managed not to break an ankle or fall on his ass or take out someone else. He was a true master.
Haven't talked to Kelly in years. Last I heard, he was in North Carolina bartending and still doing superhuman quantities of drugs. One time I thought I'd discovered him starring in a flick called Anal Palace, but I've since discovered that the movie actually stars a girl named Kelly Trump, not a guy named Kelly Crump.
Bummer.
It still trips me out every time I answer the phone and get a certain one of our freelancers. In this veddy, veddy gay, British accent, he says, "Chris, HELLO! It's OTTO speaking." Fucking OTTO yo! That kills me. It'd be even cooler if he drove a school bus, but, alas, you take what you can get.
My friend Kelly Crumplestiltskin often entertained us in high school by pretending to fall down the stairs. In the between-class rush, he'd all of a sudden stumble down the stairs like he was about to go ass over teakettle, but he was always in total control. And Kelly was this tall, skinny kid with a big mop of curly hair and an ever-present Rigor Mortis shirt, so it was quite hilarious to see him sliding down the steps with limbs flying everywhere as he screamed, "oh FUCK holy SHIT jesus CHRIST!" I'll never know how he managed not to break an ankle or fall on his ass or take out someone else. He was a true master.
Haven't talked to Kelly in years. Last I heard, he was in North Carolina bartending and still doing superhuman quantities of drugs. One time I thought I'd discovered him starring in a flick called Anal Palace, but I've since discovered that the movie actually stars a girl named Kelly Trump, not a guy named Kelly Crump.
Bummer.
It still trips me out every time I answer the phone and get a certain one of our freelancers. In this veddy, veddy gay, British accent, he says, "Chris, HELLO! It's OTTO speaking." Fucking OTTO yo! That kills me. It'd be even cooler if he drove a school bus, but, alas, you take what you can get.