I’m so glad you could make it to my celebration, it wouldn’t have been the same without you.

I remember all of our memories like they were extremely memorable, and believe me, that’s extremely rare for someone who can’t even remember her roommate’s name half the time. (She also happens to be my sister, but that’s a whole other story-again, one that I don’t remember)

My goal is now to help you accomplish your goal, because like I always say, there’s no “i” in Team. (I’ve been working with Mirriam Webster to get that changed, but so far no luck)

Anyway, thanks for being here all the week FS, I always feel better knowing you’re around in case of emergency.

Flourishing at an almost unheard of pace,

Bschooled

Your dashing success at such a young blog-age reminds of me of a good old pedophile joke (yes, I have them in my arsenal, too), which will quite possibly be the greatest gift I can offer in your day of celebration and memorabilia:

One pedo meets his friend, another pedo.
Pedo 1 says: “So, can I see pictures of your girlfriend?”
Pedo dos replies: “abso-fucking-lutely. There you go.” and shows him a small photo from his ever popular wallet-nude-polaroids collection.
Pedo 1, baffeled from pedo dos’ significant other’s appearacne says: “what is this?!? how old is she? 12? she’s an old bird!”
Pedo dos maintains his composure and calmly answers: “She’s 14. But she fucks like she’s 8.”

May you continue flourishing always, regardless of how old / young this blog is.

Thank you, I will be here all the week,
Frankelstache

P.S. This is now an offecial goal of mine to have one of my comments published in your 10 month anniversary list. This doubles my list of goals in life, but that’s a different story altogether.

Bschooled- DAD! It’s Capitalist Lion Tamer! Let him in! No, wait…you go put on some pants, I’ll let him in. Seriously, Dad, you need to stop walking around the house in your underwear…

I’m glad you made it, CLT. Like I always say, “Better late than never!” (ok well maybe not always, but once a month guaranteed).

And thank-you for taking the time to share your deepest thoughts in my guest book, along with your hemoglobins, leukocytes and platelets (trust me, those will come in handy). I means a lot to me, especially when you consider that most of my friends wrote pithy comments like “Happy Birthday!” or “We’ll Miss You!”.

I swear, it’s like they didn’t understand what the party was really for.

Anyway, help yourself to a crab cake and make yourself at home…I’m off to buy some new clothes for my first day at CLTU.

Bschooled is goin’ back to school! (real school this time, Mom).

Congratulations, bschooled.

I sign this belatedly in the guest book, under Yuri’s adorable grouping of fucked-upness that he calls a native language.

Best of luck on the next percentage of a year.

I add this in an attempt to stand out from the rest of the guest book. I write it in flourescent ink and tears of blood. That should do it. If nothing else, the book will be disposed of immediately, using some sort of tongs.

I had some Alan spam this morning. I’m not sure what he’s doing differently, but he’s getting stuck everywhere.

I continue writing in the guest book, unaware of everything but my own shallow breathing, the scratching of the pen and the constant dripping of my eye-blood.

I really wish I had arrived earlier, back when I was being name-checked left and right. Those were the days. Possibly yesterday.

I am now writing on the inside of the back cover, as all the pages are now full of other people’s writing and about a pint of blood. From my eyes.

Alan was a star pupil at CLTU. We all had our eye on him, having lost the other eye to a tragic and sudden loss of blood. He was on the Dean’s List and had several competing offers for his thing he does with your eyes. But he could never stop the leg-humping. And this… this was what unmade him, from a proud blogger and screenwriter into normal, dismal spam.

I have continued across the mostly white table cloth (damn eyes). “Bschooled,” I say to myself, “the doors at CLTU are always open. They will remain that way until we find a maintenance crew that is willing to work for insincere compliments and the occasional smack on the ass.”

I’ve been waiting, but so far all they’ve offered me is a lifetime free of erectile dysfunction.

I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I already had that.

Always good to see you,
Bschooled:)

Thanks for the compliment, DF, although I think Alan and Scott deserve the credit for most of that… they’re responsible for the wtf/wit/sentimentality trifecta, I usually only bring the “wtf?” to the table.

And yes, if only they were deeranged commenters.

In fact, sometimes I actually reply to them anyway, even though I know it’s no use…it just keeps my life interesting.

“Why oh why must you be so gifted at everything, Alan Truitt???

Emoticoning was all I had…