Friday, November 25, 2005

I'm Still in Iowa, and the MAWB Squad's Prospects of World Domination Seem to Be Dwindling By the Day

One of the highlights of my family's Thanksgiving tradition is the Annual Post-Dinner (and nap) Full Contact Risk Game. The competition is always intense, and the smack flies freely. Intentionally bad advice is offered to the greener participants. Alliances are formed. Alliances are broken; usually on the same turn. The winner's prize: an aesthetically pleasing monochome gameboard, and the right to lord your victory over your opponents for an entire year.

Yesterday, employing the North American Gambit, eventually neutralizing one opponent's Afro-Latino Hegemony, all the while maintaining an uneasy Nonagression Pact with BrotherFoot, I realized my dreams of Stylized World Map domination. Thereby answering that age-old question thusly: Why, I am your daddy.

wOOt!

DEMENTEE INTERRUPTS: PLEASE TELL ME YOU NOT JUST SAY "WOOT"!!!!!!! WHAT ARE YOU: SOME KIND OF HIPSTER DOOFUS?????!!!!!!!!! DON'T YOU KNOW THAT 100% OF PEOPLE WHO SAY "WOOT" THINKING IT COOL, ACTUALLY MAKE SELVES SOUND LIKE TEENAGE FILA-SUIT-WEARING DUMBASS!!!!!! TAKE IT BACK OR DEMENTEE WILL EEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAATTTTT YOU LIKE DRUMSTICK!!!!!!!!!!


Sorry dude. Must've been a hallucinogenic mix of tryptophane and beer.

wOOt WoooHoooo!!!

Later today, Turkey Bowl XXVII.

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