HAT.

(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.
HAT.

(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.
HAT.

(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
dis_of_durin
entwife
rankin_bass
ringwraith_ii
shelob_of_ungol
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.
HAT.

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.