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June 8, 2005

Volume 2, Issue 8

GIS for "oogabooga" gives us this gem for today's theme.

(click for larger)

Don't strain yourself, boys and girls.

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The princess was not supposed to be in the city. No royal had been here since the Black Revolt destroyed half the city twenty-seven years ago. She was not even alive at that time but by tradition she needed to visit the cathedral in the center of the city. It was a tradition going back fifteen generations. Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea the royals were desperate.
So how to hide in plain sight? The plan is simple; perform an ancient ceremonial dance in complete costume at the spring festival. Dancing across the city in direct view.

Posted by: Blaine at June 8, 2005 6:11 AM · Permalink

The first clues that not everything was kosher came while she was at JFK.

The reaction she got at the ticket counter fueled her unease.

"oogabooga", she said attempting to be pleasant. The hostile stares she got in return puzzled her.

The airplane ride, if possible, was worse. Why was she the only one in traditional dress?

But it wasn't until the plane landed at the airport in Africa that the full horror of her situation sunk in.

"Oh those bastards", she moaned.

The most elaborate practical joke in the history of the Peace Corps had been a complete success.

Posted by: Gahrie at June 8, 2005 6:40 AM · Permalink

Shuffle, shuffle.

Step, step, step.

Shuffle, shuffle.

Step, step, step.

War cry goes here.

Shuffle, shuffle.

Step, step, step.

I swear, I couldn’t even taste the rum.

After three of those things, entering the contest seemed like a good idea.

Whispering in my ear, “My top salesman… man of many talents… Show them what you can do.”

She set me up, dammit. I’ll never live this down. Even the accountants are laughing. The accountants, for crying out loud.

Shuffle, shuffle.

Step, step, step.

Sales manager or not, I swear to God I’ll kill that bitch.

Shuffle, shuffle.

Step, step, step.

Posted by: ErnieG at June 8, 2005 6:42 AM · Permalink

"How 'bout her?"

"Dude, she's wearing feathers."

"Yeah, but every other girl shot you down."

"Look, man, I could take the da-glo paint. I am that desperate. But the feathers?"

"How many dates have you had this year."

"Zero. Just like the last, oh, 31 years."

"Exactly."

"Ok. Just one more for courage."

"Just stare at her a while. That ought to make you dizzy enough."

(Three minutes later)

"You fucking knew her mike was live, didn't you, fucker?"

"Hey, you said you were the biggest loser in the club. Figured it was time to broadcast the official announcement!"

"Asshole."

Posted by: marc at June 8, 2005 6:46 AM · Permalink

Josh leapt out onto the stage and began to dance, trying to imagine how the Aztec priests might have danced, whooping and stepping across the stage. He imagined himself dancing before a major sacrifice, an enemy warrior laid out on the altar awaiting the knife, his death to appease the ancient gods. He would rip the still beating heart from his chest, and place it into the fire...

There was a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder, then it began to rain, pouring down onto the heads of the crowd in the auditorium.

'Damn!' he thought. 'Wrong dance.'

Posted by: hnumpah at June 8, 2005 7:10 AM · Permalink

The dream was dying and Amy never seemed to realize it. Maybe she didn’t want to. Maybe she couldn’t.

Amy was a backup dancer off Broadway for one show a day, five shows a week when the travel was light. And every week, her childhood dream of acting slipped further away, lost in the steady grind of work to pay the bills.

But every show, when the black lights went off, polite applause rippled across the stage. Every show, Amy knew that a little of the applause was meant for her. And for that brief, blessed moment, the dream lived.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at June 8, 2005 8:22 AM · Permalink

“Who are we?” Kate screamed.

The conference attendees stood and yelled back. “Women!”

“What do we want?”

“Power!”

“How will we take it?”

“By force!”

Kate repeated the chant seven more times. Each repetition was louder and shriller. Then she spun on one heel and hurled the spear. It sliced through the papier-mâché effigy of a man in a business suit.

“Who are we?” she screeched.

“WOMEN!”

Kate raised both clenched fists and looked toward the stage ceiling, feeling the strength of the group flow through her very soul.

“What do we want?”

“POWER!”

God, she loved Mary Kay conventions!

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at June 8, 2005 8:51 AM · Permalink

“Five”

As the director counts down, I stand poised and ready to give the audience a bird dance they will never forget. I had worked hard for this.

“Four”

I glanced at my costume quickly. Damn, do I look good. I will be the talk of town.

“Three”

Wait a second I thought. This costume doesn’t look right. I glance at it again.

“Two”

I think, Holy shit is this thing horrible, as I look for a way out.

“One”

As the curtains open, repeating over and over in my head is: How the hell did I end up here?

Posted by: Nussmier at June 8, 2005 9:06 AM · Permalink

RS: "Well, what did you think?"

PA: "You have a style all your own, and that's wonderful. You've going places, sister."

RJ: "I definately gotta say, you got it going ON!"
(Audience Hooting)
RJ: "Now that song, never really been one of my favorites, but you definately made it happen."

SC: "Are you all blind? After seeing that outfit I think I might be. As for the performance, it was like something I might hear from a table-dancer in some cheap bar after 2 AM."

RS: "It looks like it's 2 to 1, so you're outnumbered. You're going to hollywood!"

Posted by: Jeff R. at June 8, 2005 9:43 AM · Permalink

*Thunk*

Hans looked at the clock. It was 1:00 P.M.

"What the Hell? They took Laurence the tailor to jail yesterday".

He opened his door, and sure enough, there was a spear quivering in it.

He looked out in the street, and there stood Betsy who ran that organic food store across the street and two doors down. She was dressed in a hideous display of feathers and day-glo paint.

"oogabooga!" she yelled.

"Bloody poseurs", he thought.

He shook his head and went back in. He did return the spear at 2:00 P.M. however.

Some traditions have to be maintained.

Posted by: Gahrie at June 8, 2005 10:11 AM · Permalink

I hope I didn't violate any rules with the double entry.

I couldn't help myself.

Posted by: Gahrie at June 8, 2005 10:12 AM · Permalink

They had assured her it was accurate. "Glo-Hawk" was a real character. Belonged to the League of Justified Vigilante Crusaders. Created a da-glo tornado around the bad guys. Taught them tolerance and the appreciation of beauty, they said. Everyone else would be in costume. She didn't want to be one of those snotty people who stand in little pockets trying to pretend they're the cool ones even as the entire cool / not-cool dichotomy is reversed simply because everyone is at a comics convention.

Oh, the perils of playing around in places when you're the only one who doesn't know comics.

Posted by: marc at June 8, 2005 10:36 AM · Permalink

G'day Mates, and welcome to a special edition of The Crocodile Hunter. I'm your host, Steve Irwin, and today we're on the trail of the fearsome Great Neon Oogaboo. From a distance, she doesn't look like much, but this is one dangerous little bird. The Oogaboo has got no natural camouflage whatsoever, and sticks out like a sore thumb in any environment. That should make her an easy meal for some big predator, but no. Most animals go far out of their way to avoid her. That's 'cause the Oogaboo's got some fearsome claws. Look out! She's going to attack!!

Posted by: No One of Consequence at June 8, 2005 11:28 AM · Permalink

Nancy’s seventh birthday party was a lean affair – some cake and juice (generic) and a few party games. Even Nancy’s gift this year was homemade – a sweater to replace the one she had outgrown.

Times were tough. It had been months since Nancy’s mom was laid off. No work was available other than a part-time cashiering job.

But Mom would not let Nancy be too disappointed with the meager party. While there was no money for candy or toys, Mom would be damned if Nancy didn’t at least have a piñata! She braced herself while Nancy took the first swing.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at June 8, 2005 12:04 PM · Permalink

"I'm your perfect woman."

"No, you're not."

"I can prepare succulent meals."

"I don't care."

"I can prepare entertainment for your friends and clients."

"Don't ever go near my clients!"

"I am skilled in all the ways of pleasing you, from drawing your bath to all positions guaranteed to enflame connubial bliss."

"STOP!!"

"You prayed for me!"

He fled his studio, fleeing from the strange vision, a female sprouting a riot of colored feathers, swathed in diaphanous silks.

Pygmalion wanted to shout at the skies but he could not chance it seeing as Aphrodite had turned his PARROT into Galatea.

Posted by: Darleen at June 8, 2005 12:22 PM · Permalink

Her outfit was unconventional for a CEO. Indeed, and today she was before the board of directors as a result of her act of personal expression. "You know Cynthia, that is not considered proper garb. It specifically says in the manager's handbook that the head fan should be black, not white, as you know. And your mic isn't regulation either. I'm afraid you are being dismissed, do you have anything to say for yourself?" Cynthia spit out a feather. "No... I've had enough of this stultifying job and I'm going to go dance for children instead. Besides, I hate you."

Posted by: pyrrho at June 8, 2005 2:14 PM · Permalink

blame hubris, he sent me here.

Posted by: pyrrho at June 8, 2005 2:14 PM · Permalink

Karla thought her new SCA persona was so bitichin'.

Catarina Qexuahatul-Fitzjames.

It would put that white Zulu guy in a complete funk.

Posted by: Eric Blair at June 8, 2005 5:35 PM · Permalink

Liquid neon seeped from under the closet door. I gripped the wooden handle, and with a great shout threw open the door. Inside was a horror from another world: a vaguely human shape bloated with fluorescent ichor. The loathsome thing let out a squeal and jerked forward, and suddenly, I was caught up in a Day-Glo paroxysm! I was falling into a rush of bright orange; I felt thousands of feather tendrils brush my arm and cheek; the human form split at the waist to reveal a pink, frilly maw; and with another wink of the eye, I was inside.

Posted by: G-Do at June 8, 2005 9:54 PM · Permalink