(no subject)

During the relative quietness and obscurity I've fallen into over the past few months I have had an epiphany.

I am madly in love with Will Whitfoot.

This might seem sort of sudden, but my mun is a fuckhead I assure you, it is not.

(no subject)

To: Puppets of Spork
From: Fredegar Bolger; businessman, kidnapper of negligent muns

I am pleased to inform you that you are no longer dormant. I am sure you are all as disappointed as I in our mun's extreme apathy. Well, that's over for now. She has been put to work for me filling those god damn latex balloons I so loathe for shipment to my customers. You all work for me now. And I have Plans. Ha ha.
Further individual instructions to follow shortly.

(no subject)

I have kidnapped the Sporkthing. It has been bound and gagged and locked in my bas- ... deposited in a secret location. I'm fuckin sick of her slacking off. I am now the mun. Neato.

So that would put me in charge of the following puppets
And oooh... press badges... There is potential in this sock drawer. Well, except maybe that enamoured tree and the giggly dwarf chick. Eh, I'll find a use for them.

In other news, I have a new hat. Old hatband, Toffee coughed that up, the fucker. For some reason beyond my comprehension this hat is still alive. Not only that but it has a fucking journal.

If you'll excuse me, I have some Plotting to do.

it has been six months.

I have not died. Though my hat has been to Mandos and back. Yes, my hat being that thing slobbering all over my head, currently.

I have not been promiscuous. Though somehow my hat got me laid once. By Frodo, no less. That wasn't bad.

I was a reindeer. And I got a smaller version of my hat. Aw.

That fucking hat has seen more action than I have. Shithead. I need to get this thing a kennel, it keeps wandering off.