Artist walks in to Man’s bedroom. Man is standing on a chair, fiddling around with his ceiling fan.
Artist: Man, What are you doing?
Man: Hold on a second Art, I’m busy.
Artist: What do you mean your busy?
Man: Well I was flicking peanuts and trying to catch them in my mouth, and I must have flung one a bit too hard, and I heard it ping on my ceiling fan. And now, I’m just trying to recover it, it’s got to be up here somewhere…
Artist looks around and see’s a packet of peanuts, with a substantial amount left. And also a lone peanut, sitting on the floor beside the bed.
Artist: I am going to refrain from asking the question I should probably ask, and ask one that is probably most important. What university did you go to?
Man: I did university via Cereal Box Tokens.
Artist: I… Excuse me?
Man: Yeah, Art, I just collected up my Coco puff boxes and sent in my cupons and they sent me a university diploma.
Artist: Man, Umm….
Man: Check it out, its hanging behing my door.
Artist makes his way to the bedroom door and see’s the diploma. It is a verified Masters degree in Biophysics from NYU.
Artist: Man, this looks legit.
Man: It is. You can even call the university, they’ve got me on record and everything. Speaking of legit, so is this power ring I got from my Wheat-a-bix box last week. I’m telling you, the cereal monoliths really know how to deliver.
Man vs Artist #97 (Heen Geggs Hand Am) (guest post: Weflo)
Man: Is it too much to ask for some service around here?
[looks around furiously, signals for waiter, fails]
Artist: Im thinking of changing seats with that fellow over there, do you think he’ll mind?
Man: Just a glass of water…
Artist: I’m going to switch with him as soon as he gets up to go to the loo. I don’t think he’ll mind.
[Man begins to wave arms in bird like fashion in an attempt to get service, fails, begins to pick at table items]
Man: This bread tastes like cardboard, its bloody horrible
Artist: That’s a coaster…. you see, the problem with my chair is that its back is too low and its too close to the ground, I can barely see over the top of the table. I can’t eat like this. I don’t think he’ll mind, he might not even notice.
[man butters coaster]
Man: much better.
Artist: what do you think?
Man: Definitely a coaster, albiet a very tasty coaster. Perhaps one of the tastiest.
Artist: No, about the chair, is it too low?
Man: Oh my… the waiter…
[they both look down to see the waiter buckling under the weight of the artist]
Artist: well, i certainly feel a fool… all this time…[ponders to himself]
Man: …unbelievable, just a simple glass of water, is it too much to ask?
[Artist picks up waiter, brushes him off, and promptly replaces him with another gentlemans chair]
Man vs Artist #96 (Redundancy check) (guest post: Weflo)
Man: I’ve always been afraid of going into a male public toilet, but i conquered that fear just 2 nights ago in Paris
Artist: I share the same fear, too many eyes, too much publicity.
Man: Well, I found it very interesting to say the least. Did you know in France all the men share long metal sinks that periodically spray water, and all the soap is bright blue and just floats about in the basin. Truly amazing, although I couldn’t imagine trying to wash my hands while everyone was watching.
Artist: You know, I’ve always thought you were very clumsy.
Man walks out of the bedroom and into the living room where Artist is holding an open book.
Man: What do you mean?
Artist: Well, I can only explain it via allegory. You’re so clumsy Ikea hire you to test how many times you can wrongly put together a piece of furnature before they classify humane ‘breaking point’
Man: Well… I never! You know what you’re so clumsy you…. Wha..
Man takes one step forward, and slips on Bob, who had transfigured into a banana milkshake, he lunges backwards, grabs onto the chord of the drapes, and does a sort of Tarzan swing to the other end of the room, where he rams into the bookshelf, which topples back and forth, knocking over a lamp and a table of tools and paint, and a canvas on an easel in the rocking, before finally jeering slowly backwards and smashing a window, as well as toppling out the very same window. Man is left on the floor with his shoulders to the carpet and his feet in the air. Covered in paint, and a Bananaesque, milky drink.
Artist: I’m … I’m so clumsy that I prove my own clumsiness during a retort of the clumsy argument?
Artist: I didn’t even know we had a bookshelf until it started moving.
Man: You know, the blog we started for your art and my ranting about groceries?
Artist: Oh yeah. Well, really then? How many hits do we have?
Man: Ummm… 7. But to be fair, I did check it 6 times last night.
Artist: Right. That one time was me, but I accidently clicked the wrong bookmark.
Man: right. Well, what should I post? you know, it being monumental and all.
Artist: How is 102 a monumental number? Would 100 have been a bit more… Suitable? More-so, significant? Besides, the numbered posts only go up to 91.
Man: Yeah, but there have been re-blogs and you know, promotion of other artists and grocery enthusiast. and, well, not really. I think that it was significant enough, as it was my post on it being asparagus season and It simply couldn’t wait.
Artist: What about post 101? That’s the number that like… is symbolic for the beginning of knowledge or something, you know?
Man: Yeah but your abstract expressionist portrait of the Kremlin was dry and it was an impulse post.
Artist: Right. Well, how did that one fare?
Man: Well, the blog community is indifferent. But it’s had a few dozen hits by someone with the screenname: @Kremlinking_Vlad.
The first and most vital thing to know about the boarding house is: The kitchen is a death trap. Have at least ten rehearsed excuses under your belt for the purpose of a quick getaway. Boarding houses tend to attract loners and lost souls, so unless you want to hear the…