Cnstrn'd Writing

“You can’t prove a negative!”

“Oh, yeah?  Prove it!”

“… I can’t!”

You know you’ve missed the best part of the story if all you hear is this ending:

… At which point I knew I would never remove the stains from my pants, they just looked too good.

… And that is how I was both knighted and exiled in the same day.

… so there I was, beer in one hand, penis in the other, having to confront the reality that neither belonged to me.

… so that’s how I learned to be very careful who you say “I’m going to order chinese” too, and how I got put on the immigration blacklist.

… at which point my socks collapsed, bringing down the entire stack of cheese.

And that’s when I lost my keys.  It was really awkward, I mean, how would I get the dead hooker out of my car?

Since Pixel has failed his goal of “a post a day”, I figured I should at least make an attempt for the SITE to succeed in that goal. As long as there are 30 posts this month, it all averages out, right?

Ladies and gentlemen, some of you know me, some of you don’t. My name is Stephen, and I am a nerd. Our esteemed ‘Pix’, being an academic fellow with glasses, is also a nerd, and as such we got along famously. Really, it was in all the papers. Bumped “What is Princess Di’s body up to!?” off the front cover of numerous magazines, we did.

However, since I find it difficult to fill up my own blog (the Nerdgasm one linked somewhere here) with relevant insights into the potentially meaningless human condition through a case study of the transitional subculture(s) of “Nerd”, I have little chance of using this blog for ‘relevancy’, ‘insights’, ‘conditioner’, or ‘however’.

Something Pix is known for in Australia, is as the ‘Creator of the NSS’ (as well as the hater of those who misuse ‘s). NSS stands for Non-Sequitor Segue. It is when someone new joins a conversation, and you say something that makes them feel like they have walked in halfway through an absolutely amazing story. I have taken the NSS and run with it so far, that it’s tethering cord has snapped with the force of a broken steel cable and decapitated me. Metaphorically, at least. In my blog nearly every post has an NSS of varying degrees of quality. Today, I will share with you my personal favourites.

• … And that’s when I had to admit I didn’t have my pilot’s license.
• … And that is why I don’t have foreskin anymore.
• … So this huge giant robot fell on me. Thankfully I woke up seconds before the impact. My beautiful girlfriend rolled over in the bed and checked I was ok. After I said I was, she fell on me. Unfortunately I woke up seconds before the impact.
• … So… yeah… That thing I just told you I did? Don’t do that mate. It really burns y- Oh hey I didn’t see you there.
• … And so, I now have a pathological fear of geese and foam, but am strangely aroused by foamy geese.
• … So there I was, beer in one hand, penis in the other, having to confront the awful reality that neither of them were mine.
• … And that, dear friends, is why I am legally obliged to wear a belt at all times. The judge was lenient, though, and made that the only condition of my release.
• … So I’m standing there looking the Prince in the eyes with a look of sheer surprise and embarrassment on my face. This only got more awkward when I felt urine seeping down my trouser legs and staining my pants. Although apparently when a Prince pisses on your leg in that culture it’s a sign of respect.
• … So there I was, around the middle of the line of people, starring off at the penguin tank in the distance, with somone else’s pants around my ankles…
• … So there I was, clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, and I was stuck in the middle with this guy.
• … And I look up from pulling up my pants, and there’s this little old asian lady grinning at me. And to this day I don’t know if she was laughing at me, or laughing with me.

There you are, Pix. Once more, I have to save your arse. Although this time it’s actually saving your arse, rather then just deciding not to mess with it.

Pix, if this post is inappropriate for some reason, feel free to do your “grand power of the editor” thing with it. I’ll just send you a nasty email insulting your species later on.