defending the castle

Beware my sword.
I wrote a lot this weekend, so I’m gonna do the famous two-day material split and win myself a night off today. Tomorrow it’ll be old to me, but new to you…

A couple weeks ago, when the Frappr! thing was big, I setup an account for sounds familiar. Then I stopped short of posting the link here for y’all to populate because I was a scaredycat when it came to linking myself with my zipcode. I have no idea why I insist on hiding behind some imagined anonymity… this is the internets, for pete’s sake. So, let’s do it. If you don’t know what Frappr! is about, let me tell you: it’s a dead simple way to graphically plot where people are, usually people with some common interest or theme. In this case, readers this here blog. So, fair people, favor me and populate the sounds familiar Frappr! page, OK? Don’t worry, you can do it anonymously, I’m more interested just how far-flung my readership (those that dare own up to it) is. So, without further ado: the sounds familiar Frappr page. If I get a half-decent turnout, I may add a permanent link in the sidebar so all the noobs can join in the fun.

Friday morning I had a really creepy experience. I had just gotten out of the shower and dried off. Realizing that I had no clean boxers in the bedroom, I walked, naked, down the hallway into the laundry room where I knew some fresh, clean boxers lay in wait in the dryer. As I sifted through the laundry and pulled out a clean pair, a voice rang out from the next room. Although I didn’t quite catch what it said, it was a loud, clear, male voice which sounded to be asking a question. And, from the sounds of it, it was in my house. Immediately I knew something was wrong. It’s 7:30am, no one should be here… and definitely not in the house. My first thought was that it could be the landscaping company – they had warned me that they were having some topsoil delivered that day – maybe the door was open and they poked their head in to ask where to dump the load.

My heart racing, I hastily pulled on my boxers, not wanting to be naked and in fear of my life. After covering my shame, I looked around for something to clutch, some makeshift weapon I could rely on should the need arise to batter my intruder; but in the laundry room blunt objects are hard to come by. So, I edged my way around the corner, calling out, “Hello?! Who’s there?” No one. As I came into the living room, my eyes fell on a sheathed leather sword – a left-behind item from a costumed guest at our recent Halloween party. But this is no plastic costume sword, it’s got a real metal blade, albeit not very sharp, that has a good weight to it. Perfect! I unsheathed the sword and held it at the ready as I continued my search. Picture it folks: Here I am; ready to defend my home. I’m walking around in naught but my boxer briefs (with a pink piggie on them, no less), holding a damn sword in a strike position shouting, “Hello?! Hello?!” What home invader wouldn’t just throw down their arms and run?

Anyway, I still have no idea what the voice was, and I swear I heard it. After clearing the house, backyard and garage, I even poked the mouse on our two PCs to see if perhaps one had been left on one of those annoying webpages that talk – but there was nothing. My only explanation is that I heard the carried sound of someone outside, a voice that maybe caught just the right wind and floated right through a vent or something to sound so present. Odd.

Did you guys see the comment by “Bob” on my entry from a couple days ago? I know Shaine did, because he already commented on it – but I feel the need to make sure it gets some wider attention. I read it with disbelief this weekend. It is most certainly a spam comment, but I’m going to leave it up. Know why? Well, #1 because I think it’s hilarious; but #2 because, whoever wrote it, they actually read my post. Amazing. So, check out Bob’s hair-site if you wanna… and if you see me in two weeks with lush flowing locks not unlike Motley Crew, don’t ask.

I’m writing again. Maybe I shouldn’t write about it, I’ll jinx it. K then, ‘nite.


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