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..so it's a journey...with "friends only" welcome to most of it

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Keybd Gnome

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thanks to clemidia

If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we don't speak often) please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE. When you're finished, post this little paragraph on your LJ and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON'T ACTUALLY remember about you.

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So this one time you helped me work on some art projects, as sort of mentor, and everything turned out wonderfully. We decided that you would take me out for beers and you told me stories of your youth. You bought me all my drinks and I got smashed. Then we got into a bar fight with some frat boys and we kicked all their asses with broken beer bottles stabbed into their chests. Yea, that was great.

..hah! they must've been all fake 'cause I know I've forgotten the real ones

Sitting in your living room making necklaces for that Planned Parenthood fundraiser. As the day went on and we talked--because we hadn't known each other for long--I came to find out you are actually pro-life and were an infiltrator planning to disrupt the operations of a local clinic!



an infiltrator . . . an infiltrator planning even -- nah, couldn't be :)

Instead of losing my job last February, I actually went to work as your personal assistant, helping you and your lovely lady stay organized on your trips. You've been my mentor and I've learned all kinds of wonderful art skills. We've had a blast!

heh! Wendy's the organized one, me? I can't even remember where I leave my reading glasses! speaking of which . . .

Yeah, remember how we met? It was in college, and I was interviewing to live in a house that needed a roommate. You were in the kitchen cooking for the household and we talked about the how the housemates took turns cooking. You called the napkins serviettes.

ahh, the good ol' days of communal living, making a meal from whatever was on hand and calling it 'grin delight' ;)

Ah... I remember the night a few years back when you and I had a little night cap and ended up getting plastered and then decided it might be fun to look for gnomes. So wandered about the forest looking for gnomes and it got to be a little too warm and we were all hot and sweaty and drunk so we decided to strip down to our bathing suits (which we had purposely worn underneath our street clothes for just such an occasion HEE HEE *wink*) and we gleefully jumped into the nearby lake and splashed around like children. When we were all nice an cooled off we came back out of the water and found that all of our clothes and shoes were gone (damn stinking gnomes took them for sure, those rascally lil bastards!) And so we ended up barefoot in the forest and drunk to boot and it started to get chilly and you cut your foot on something sharp on the ground and you ended up having to lean on me most of the way back to the highway and to pass the time we sang "how dry we are" when we were quickly apprehended by a patrolman who booked us for drunkeness and for running around nearly buck nekkid in the forest and so we spent that night in jail with with a short fat little man with a long white beared who was wearing your shirt and my skirt who called himself "Emong the Little". THE END

clever of us to have worn bathing suits underneath, huh? ;)
those gnomes can be pesky lil devils -- they're mostly harmless (but I'm not too sure about that cross-dressing Emong :)

Remember that trip to Irleand where we walked along the rocky shores, holding hands and dressed in genuine Irish-knit sweaters until sunset, then joined the locals at a pub of raucus dancers and singers and held each other close, dancing.

The picture-taking was amazing, and each time we glanced at them, we recalled the lonely wail of the lutes, the emerald lawns and jangling, spirited spoons--held by ruddy-faced men whowere hugged by lively, brogued women.

Then we found a beautiful Irish setter, and had him shipped home and we got TO KEEP HIM!!

Hey--we COULD make this come true!

ah Ireland, fair Ireland, your shores are a-callin'

Tell ya what: Let's explore what months are best to go--and start making some plans?

I was busily repelling down the face of a garden gnome... his nose hairs desperately needed trimming. I heard 'scribble, scribble" and looked behind me. There you were, sketching the gnome.

ME: Do you mind if I continue working? I need to get 5 gnomes done before lunch.

YOU: Well, I'd prefer to get the gnome with the nose hairs. It looks more natural.

ME: OK, I'll hit the other 4 and come back round to this one just before lunch.

YOU: Thank you so much. By the way, what are you having for lunch?

ME: Why, gnome nose hair sammiches, of course!

strange, very strange, Mary, now how could I have blocked that out?
nose hair sammiches, huh? do you grill 'em? or just slap 'em between 2 slices of tree fungus and munch 'em cold?

either would work. I generally grill them if there are no burn restrictions for the day

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