Howdy,
 
Bob C thinks us Seattle people are too weird.  Boy, talk about the pot
calling the kettle black.  After all, he was the one walking around in a
Hawaiian shirt with a huge gold cross hanging from his neck, spouting out
atrocious puns, gleefully exhibiting pictures of bones that were retrieved
from the south end of northbound animals, and playing bizarre music about
fish.  His only saving grace was the fact that he refused to wear the monk's
robe (although that would have been quite a humorous testament to his
"godhood").  I'm referring to the Great Bob Bash in Seattle last weekend.
Yea, I know, that was almost a week ago, but I've been busier than the
proverbial one-armed paper hanger and haven't been able to post (actually
I've just been really lazy and finally got a round tuit).
 
After all the hoopla on the FML about Bob's divinity, I expected to arrive
at Lynn's house and see a brilliantly lit figure casting a gentle glow over
the people and ferrets bowing at his feet in reverence.  Instead I walked
through the door and some guy immediately says "You must be Bob." After
momentary bewilderment on my part (as opposed to the constant state of
confusion I'm usually in), I realized that this some guy was actually the
famous (or infamous) Bob Church.  Talk about a disappointment.  No gentle
glow, no feelings of the divine.  I didn't even feel the need to bow before
him.  And he didn't look anything like the mental picture I had in my mind.
(Although Ed Lipinski sure did, especially when he put on his WWII helmet).
Actually it was a relief finding out Bob was not a deity.  I am not well
versed in interactions with gods and was worried about committing a faux
pas.
 
In all serious though (yeah, right!), it was an excellent little get
together and it was great to finally meet Bob, as well as all the other
ferret people there.  It's always nice to put a face to the names, even when
said faces don't match your mental image.  We had excellent munchies and a
good supply of Fat Weezil Ale.  And of course, ferrets were abound
everywhere.  The only complaint I had was the proliferation of puns.  It was
quite pun-ishing (he he, giggle, giggle, chuckle, snort[<--Lynn:)]).  And
the music wasn't really that bad (You just haven't lived until you've heard
William Shatner sing Beatles hits).
 
Well, I'd better quit now, before I make fun of more people and get disowned
by the Weird Seattle Ferret People.
 
Til next time,
Limejello & The Weezils of Doom(<---If that don't prove Seattle people
are weird, I don't know what will)
 
A peanut sat on a railroad track, his heart was all a-flutter.
Along came the 6:15. Toot. Toot. Peanut butter!
[Posted in FML issue 2281]