May 9, 2012

No, I will not eat your damn cookies!

throw it away.

CXXXIII

squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek

It's been a long time since I updated you on the goings-on of Curryland. Take a journey with me as I visit the spice-rich highlands, lowlands and midlands (but also the semihighlands and the partiallylowlands) of Curryland.

ZOOM

We're here.

This here is my house. It's made out of old-fashioned silicon bricks, like they used in attics in the 1970s in Kenya. The chimney is made of obsidian and rainbows, and the attic is made out of new-fashioned silicon bricks, like they used in attics in the 1990s in Kenya. Come step inside. And now step back outside, because I don't allow guests and we're running out of time.

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This here is my office. As you can see, not much has changed since this video. Except that we have our mouse hole now. And we also have a plot hole. The plot hole is filled with continuity errors. The White Lion has spotted one: post 21 conflicts with post 74. Spot where! I dare you!

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Now we're in the Currytopia city square. Cast your eye upon the broken mango statue in the middle, and to your left and right, the great slabs of concrete that make up our pavement. A thousand dollars of cash and cheques went into those slabs. Seriously. The next person to take to those concrete slabs with a jackhammer is gonna get mighty rich.

Let's take a walk down Sutphin Boulevard. Not in a gay way. Because I am not gay and I probably never will be. As we walk down, feel free to gaze upon the row of trees. They are fruit trees and they grow blood oranges.

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We have been teleported to magic land. My mistake. I set the teleporter's tralking calibrators a fraction high and completely forgot to change the frelaptic levers with the "hezmanic" setting. Let me reset the sekarmivonks and we'll be on our way.

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We're back in Curryland. This is my NERF arsenal. Meet my four guns: Sascha, Natascha, Tasha and Bill. Tasha is my pride. Natascha is my joy. Sascha is my pride and joy. Bill is compensation for my penis. Let's move swiftly along, because I appear to have crossed a line. The borderline into our neighbouring continent, Cow Country. They appear to have some sort of beef with me.

*cocks NERF gun* Let's war.

BLAM BLAM BLAM

We interrput this war with a breaking news story: peace has broken out! We now return you to your regularly scheduled teleporting.

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Last stop: the bus stop. Thanks for coming. Now, go away.

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