I Am Become Death (Medal)

...the Destroyer of Words.
 
I've decided to become a sports announcer.  How hard could it be?  Like many announcers, I'm not going to bother knowing anything about the sport in question.  I'm just going to ramble incoherently at random.  If I feel sufficiently motivated, I may draw something on the board.  It will probably be a stick figure of a horse/tractor/ICBM/snake/President Lincoln.  My stick figures all look alike.
 
In addition, I'll verb nouns for no intelligent reason and, in so doing, stupid myself.  The less I know about the sport, the players, the history, or the philosophical/cultural ethos of the game, the louder I'll get.  If all else fails, I'll yell out, "Ooh!  That's gotta hurt!"  If I get myself backed into a corner, I'll use metaphors that make no sense and trail off as it becomes increasingly obvious that I have no idea what I'm saying.
 
I'm also not going to bother attending any sporting events.  I'll just announce the mundane ebb and flow of everyday life.  Why should all the excitement stay out on the field/court/track/alley/rink/etc.?  Why not bring some of that into the office/Walmart/Guitar Center/Living Room/Control Room/Launch Facility/Missle Silo/etc.? 
 
...walking up behind a groggy coworker pouring their morning coffee in a dazed manner - "GOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAALLLLLLLL!!!!"
...when someone staples a few papers - "From Downtown!!!  She stapled that like an undead rollerblader vanning the kids to Hockey practice in the Hamptons!"
...watching someone drag an unwilling three year old through Walmart - "DID YOU SEE THAT???  UNBELIEVABLE!!!  He Stairway to Heavened that kid through the underwear aisle like the scent of blue across the unshaven face of a number 7 when held underwater too long...Let's go the Board!!!  As you can see, he looped around the horse's head, dipped under President Lincoln's left nose, then slid right between the snake's back tires.  Oooh!  That's gotta Hurt!"
 
Yeah.  This should be fun.

I like words....

UbiquitousBubba


...the Destroyer of Words.
 
I've decided to become a sports announcer.  How hard could it be?  Like many announcers, I'm not going to bother knowing anything about the sport in question.  I'm just going to ramble incoherently at random.  If I feel sufficiently motivated, I may draw something on the board.  It will probably be a stick figure of a horse/tractor/ICBM/snake/President Lincoln.  My stick figures all look alike.
 
In addition, I'll verb nouns for no intelligent reason and, in so doing, stupid myself.  The less I know about the sport, the players, the history, or the philosophical/cultural ethos of the game, the louder I'll get.  If all else fails, I'll yell out, "Ooh!  That's gotta hurt!"  If I get myself backed into a corner, I'll use metaphors that make no sense and trail off as it becomes increasingly obvious that I have no idea what I'm saying.
 
I'm also not going to bother attending any sporting events.  I'll just announce the mundane ebb and flow of everyday life.  Why should all the excitement stay out on the field/court/track/alley/rink/etc.?  Why not bring some of that into the office/Walmart/Guitar Center/Living Room/Control Room/Launch Facility/Missle Silo/etc.? 
 
...walking up behind a groggy coworker pouring their morning coffee in a dazed manner - "GOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAALLLLLLLL!!!!"
...when someone staples a few papers - "From Downtown!!!  She stapled that like an undead rollerblader vanning the kids to Hockey practice in the Hamptons!"
...watching someone drag an unwilling three year old through Walmart - "DID YOU SEE THAT???  UNBELIEVABLE!!!  He Stairway to Heavened that kid through the underwear aisle like the scent of blue across the unshaven face of a number 7 when held underwater too long...Let's go the Board!!!  As you can see, he looped around the horse's head, dipped under President Lincoln's left nose, then slid right between the snake's back tires.  Oooh!  That's gotta Hurt!"
 
Yeah.  This should be fun.

You should be a sports announcer, you know

I have a friend who likes Hello Kitty ©,
Daryl, dew u lik hello kitty®?

[whispering very softly in monotonous, breathy tones]

"We're back live as Skip "Skittles" Bohansen is attempting the Stealth Cat Nap at his desk.  He's using the classic Joan technique with the handset of his phone rubberbanded to his shoulder.  To all casual observers, he's deep in thought and on an important call.  He's been Dreamlanding for the past 11 minutes and 37 seconds.  There was a close call at the 2 minute 19 mark.  Let's see that in Slow Motion.  His manager is calling his line to see if he's really on the phone.  Oh!!!  Straight to voice mail like a pile of Butterfinger crumbs between the moobs!  He handled that like a pro!  Let's rejoin the action live now.  Here comes the next hurdle.  Someone is slowly placing Skip's hand in a mug of warm water.  And, He's Okay!  No leaks here!  Skip is obviously prepared for this eventuality and is wearing Depends!  There's no question, this is not his first Roller-Derby; not his first Rodeo; not his first Shuffleboard, not his first Cricket Match...  Uh oh!  This could be Skip's undoing!  Bubba is tossing Skittles into Skip's hair!  Bubba's aim leaves a little to be desired as a Rainbow of Fruit Flavour just bounced off of Skip's left eye.  OHHH!!! That's a loud snort!  That could give him away!  This could be the ball game!  The manager is walking over here!  This is it!  Wow!!!  Skip Recovers!  Just as she walked up, he said that he would get right on that and hung up.  She bought it!!!  What's the time on that nap?  It's 19 minutes 11 seconds!  It's not a world record, but it is an impressive time!  He just may podium with that score!

Bubba, I would like to employ you to commentate on my life. Every moment. How much?

Classic Bubba!!! I had to show the good lady this stuff as I felt guilty not sharing it!!

More, more, more commentary please!!

Someone should put all these stories into a book!!!

"We'll return you back to the Psychic Waitress competition in a moment.  Right now, we've had a break through in the Misquoted Lyrics semi-finals!  Just a few moments ago, a loud, extremely obnoxious guy in the next booth lyricted a line from ZZ Top's 'Gimme all your lovin' that would have prouded Jon Anderson.  Bubba, we don't know our contestant's name, do we?  No, Bubba, but we're sure his name is Glubner Numpte.  Here's what happened.

"The Psychic Waitress had just delivered the order she thought Glubner might have requested when Glubner asked her if she knew Ed and if she had any idea how one would strike someone with a tunnel.  The part of her brain that gets desert orders wrong exploded and she asked, 'What?'  Oh, No!  She Di'n't!!!  Yes, and we had agreed not to use that phrase anymore.  Let's replay his answer.

"'You know?  That song by ZZ Top?  [sings off-key at 110db]  You gotta whip it up and hit me like a tunnel, Ed...'

"WOW!  That may just move him up in the standings!  He nailed that like a welder hitting a three pointer with a stuffed badger eating a cheese danish which contains the detonator that will bring London Bridge falling down!

"Hold on!  It sounds like he's going to take another run at it!  OOHH!!!  He's going deep on this one, Bubba!  He's pulling out some Devo.  NO!!!  Yes, Devo.  It appears his earlier misquote has prompted his memory. It appears he's attempting to sing Whip It!  This is too awful to keep to ourselves, let's share it with the unsuspecting masses!

"'Now whip it
Into shape
Shape it up
Get straight
Go forward
Move ahead 
Tatoo your Taffee 
It's not too late'

"WOAH!!!  Tatoo your Tafee?  I think he may have impressed the judges with that one.  No matter what the outcome of this competition may be, the name Glubner Numpte is going down in history.  And History's not too happy about it, either.  Now, back to our coverage of the Psychic Waitress competition featuring Griselda Merwit and our breakfast order!"

As I was watching that, I was thinking, "They've given him a long enough lead he could do a couple of headstands, climb out and do a cannonball, and then pretend to have a leg cramp to tease the others before he touched the wall.  It's like a bear eating a disillusionment sandwich filled with a wedge of optimism light and a slab of hyperbole!!!  Hold the mayo! 
"I would say, let's go to the board to map that out, but somebody filled the board with a diagram of Daryl's evening routine.  I think that's what it is.  It looks a little like President Lincoln or a horse."

UbiquitousBubba

  Ooohhh!  That's gotta Hurt!!!" 

New sig

If I could give all my post count to Bubba I wood.

Starise, the UN has classified pictures, video, artistic depictions, and/or stick figures of Bubba to be Crimes Against Humanity.  Sketch artists have a tendancy to spontaenously explode when they meet me.  I consider that a bonus.

Mine isn't gold plated.  It's pie plated.  It may not be as effective, but it's a lot tastier.