Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Wednesday Mind Hump

Noted mememeister rfduck was heard to mutter between beakfulls of marsh grass,

“Hi humpers! I'm having trouble thinking of a theme for today, so today will be childhood story day.

“All you have to do is tell me a story from your childhood (up to 18, let's say). It can be short, long, funny, serious. Anything you want.

“I suppose this is me taking a break for this week. I think I've earned it after keeping this place running for months on end. (I'm not complaining, by the way! I love doing this).”

The rules are, there are no rules!!! All you need to do is copy and paste the above questions into your blog and add your responses. After you've finished, return here and leave us a comment so we'll know you've humped. Be sure your hump is linked back to so others can hump too.

Remember, there are no right or wrong answers. If one of the questions doesn't inspire you then simply "pass" it. Just use your imagination!

If you don't have a blog or you're an exhibitionist *woo hoo* feel free to hump right here in our comments section. There's absolutely no pressure ... although it's called the Wednesday Mind Hump you can hump on any day.

Until next time, this is your music-loving mememeister wishing you a happy hump day!

Howdy, humpers. Once upon a time, a long, LONG time ago, long before your average humper was even a twitch in her mommy's belly, back when the dinosaurs roamed the earth and the average caveman used the canine tooth of a saber-toothed tiger to hoe weeds from his garden, I was born. It was a momentous occasion, with fire in the sky and everything. Sadly, the “fire-in-the-sky” was a really big meteor which took a right turn at Uranus and landed in the middle of the inland sea in what is now known as the Southwest USA. The resultant steam bath followed by the thermocline of the northern hemisphere resulted in the destruction of all advanced forms of life upon the planet in a truly horrendous ice age.

Oops. Reboot.

Advance the clock a whole bunch of millions of years and we come to rest outside of the city of brotherly love on a warm spring day. A careful observer will note the waving grasses, the leaves on the trees, the brisk breeze thrashing the boughs of the chestnut and mulberry trees, the abundance of birds and cherry blossoms. That observer will note a small boy, dressed in overalls; attached to a small hand, a kite, it's dancing in the sky pulls the eye away from the tyke. Such an idyllic scene. Don't be fooled, though, for the tyke is me and while I appear to idly be flying a kite, I am actually contemplating how to kill the old man with the long white beard and wild white hair that awakened during the dream I'd had and had threatened the end of all existence.

I thought long and hard. As hard as I'd ever exercised the gray matter between my ears, I did plot. I planned. I executed. And then I put it all into motion.

Much time passed. While I never doubted the outcome, it was a long wait to April 8, 1966. Finally, proof of my successful struggle appeared before me on the cover of Time Magazine, the day after Easter. Behold:

Phew! That was close!

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