Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.


Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


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Like my brownhouse:
   Mexican comfort food
Sunday, November 11 2001

I don't often remember my dreams these days. But I wouldn't even notice their absence were it not for the fact that Gretchen usually remembers hers and tells me about them in the morning. Last night, for example, she had a dream that featured Merle Streep and Britney Spears as sisters from an "American military base" in Poland. The account of this dream refreshed my memory of all the Britney Spears posters freshly hung in the subways and subway stations of New York City. Her face, framed in its strangely anachronistic 80sesque blond locks, is everywhere. But no matter how much she strives to present the image of a blandly-sexy white-bread-and-mayonaise-fed American adolescent goddess, in New York (at least) this illusion has been uniformly sabotaged. In some places Britney sports a mustache, in others she wears a set of devil's horns and a spiky tail. On many posters her eyes have simply been Xed out and her pleasant lips have been sewn together and bound with the threads of hurried magic marker strokes. There must be an subterranean army of magic marker equipped subversives out to expose Britney for the dark beast she truly is. Beneath the conformity of flag waving and "America, Love It Or Leave It," there still exist a courageous few among us willing to fight for freedom. I have never seen a commercial poster campaign so thoroughy defaced as Britney's. I would like to take this opportunity to express Randomly Ever After's full and unambiguous support for the Britney-sabotaging freedom fighters working secretly beneath the city.

It was a bitter cold windy day, best applied to such activities as eating Mexican comfort food, watching The Incredible Adventures of Wallace and Gromit, and pruning and organizing an MP3 collection. Silly movies like The Wedding Singer also had their place.
We actually started talking about Mexican comfort food even before we got out of bed (circa noon). Gretchen announced her intention of making beans and rice, and this reminded me of that Sir Mixalot song with the line "Red beans and rice did miss her." In my hunger, I verbally obsessed about that line until Gretchen ordered me to shut up, at which point I braved the cold and went down to Seventh Avenue to get Mexican comfort food supplies: taco shells, pesto-flavored soft wheat taco wraps, salsa, and corn chips.

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