Our first Canardie of the week is the Phone it In Canardie, and it goes to Ashley who Phones it In more than anyone else on the Internet. Ladies and Gentlemen, please join me in congratulating ASHLEY AWESOME!
My Grateful Subjects, er, I mean, Minions. Whoops, that was a typo. What is the word I am searching for here? Sycophants? No. Hmm, what about hoards of unwashed hobos? NO. I think the tiny thesaurus in my brain might be broken. Gonna have to look into that. Oh, wait, I've got it: READERS.
Hello, my little liver dumplings, and thank you -- all five of you-- plus The Collective, who have graciously decided to give me this award, for which I did nothing, really, but act like a glorified sycophant myself. PLEASE, my entries were begging to you all, LOVE ME. So does this mean that you do? Love me, I mean. Okay, maybe I should stop being a jerk here. Instead I'm going to tell you a story. Ready?
Once upon a time there was a little girl named Ashley, and she had chicken legs. Not actual chicken legs, mind you, because that would be weird. Just the metaphorical kind. Anyhoodle, sometimes Chicken Legs used to pray for things like how she didn't want the ceiling fan to fall out of the ceiling and chop off her head, to someday own a library like Belle's in Beauty and the Beast, and to have boobs at least as big as Teri Hatcher's. Guess how many of those things came true? Just the one, actually, seeing as how she's not dead, but you never know. Stuff could happen. So years passed and Ashley grew up, passing puberty, but she still had the chicken legs. Nightly prayer wishes now included that, please God, a boy would like her. Any boy would do. Also, she still wanted the library, but had long given up on the boobs. One day, Chicken Legs discovered the internet, and it was a fateful meeting of harmonious beauty. And this other time, on another day, Chicken Legs went to college and met, oh, wait hold on a sec while I
( Intermission )
I forgot where I was going with this story. Do you guys like cheese? What are your favorite kinds of cheese? Does the idea of brie gross you out as much as it does me? Your thoughts are important to me.
In conclusion, who else is with me on wanting to see Joss Whedon make that movie he was talking about, The Cars That Could Turn Into Robots But No, It's Different. No? Crickets.
But seriously, thanks to Heather Anne, Abigail, Kat, and Jennie for presenting me with this fine award. Now me and my little pink duck are going to take a bath. Toodles.
Okay, actually that was a total lie, I don't take baths. But it was a nice image, right? No? You guys are the worst crowd ever. I mean, I LOVE YOU. Bye.