Send Bob To Mars!!!

It's that time of the month when I step away from my counseling sessions with Tim and give a THANKS to the people who are supporting me on my mission.

• Nick B! Thanks for the $.10, and yes, I will do what I can to find some interstellar 'escorts' to stop by your pad when I get acquainted with some.
• Don W, your $.01 is much appreciated.
  
• Ben L, Joe R, ditto.
• Robert C, what can I say, the sudden $2.00 you sent my way was a surprise, and much appreciated. I nearly spent it on whiskey to placate Snooky and her hellish drinking binges, but I thought NO, no more giving in. This time I have to stand firm if I'm ever going to leave.

Thanks all. I will now sing a song in thanks:

I believe the sheep are our are future
Teach them well and let them lead the way
Show them all the beauty they possess inside
Give them a sense of pride to make it easier
Let the sheep's laughter remind us how we used to be
Everybody searching for a hero
People need someone to look up to
I never found anyone to fulfill my needs
A lonely place to be (like Mars)
So I learned to depend on me.

Peace out.

Ah, my new friend Julie has a wondrous cookbook completely devoted to cooking Tim! Well, not exactly, but it might be a good read on the trip. Also, I need all the creative ways possible to cook sheep chow. Tim can be a real bastard when it comes to dinner.

the Good news is: I've decided to ramp up my efforts in getting this damnable rocketship finally built so I can get going. Between Al Qaeda and the "Joey" spinoff and the next Star Wars movie ever looming, I need to get going quick-like.

the Bad news is: I still only have $2.02 collected so far, which is not exactly on schedule. According to my original timeline, I should have a quarter of the funding so far, and I'm not real good at math but I think it's well over $140.

Ah well.

That yummy Youssouf was kind enough to mention me here so I must do the same. I feel I must bring Youssouf with me; he is light, doesn't eat much, and is surely more pleasant than Tim. Don't worry, Tim. I'll keep you around for awhile. I have...plans...for you.

What better way to display my love of sheep, mars and slyders than with ahaiku?


To dream, to find Mars,
What more could a sheep boy want?
Kill Tim! And Slyders!

I was just reading a really good article on ADD and

I've just had a brilliant idea.  BRILLIANT!
 
I'll offer my wares, so to speak, on Ebay.
 
I may have to open a second bank account to hold all of the money.
 
At least I'm not selling rubbish.

Spanky threw-up on my blog, so instead of re-writing my ideas for a manure-powered rocketship, I’ll review a movie I saw in a local cheap theater that plays older flicks.

There comes a time in one’s life in which one goes through a movie-going experience so incredible, so utterly fantastic, so completely earth-shattering that s/he is changed forever.  I’m still waiting for that moment, but in the meantime, here is my experience whilst sneaking into, “Mission to Mars.”

The highpoint of the movie occurred when I was lounging about near the concession counter waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting bag of someone else’s popcorn so that I might ‘sample’ a bit.  I do have standards, after all, and there ain’t no way I’m paying four bucks for some damnably stale popcorn slathered with some motor oil or whatever the hell that stuff is.

I was growing short of patience when I noticed…her.  An attractive lass across the lobby.  I gathered up my courage, sucked in my gut, walked up to her and introduced myself.  “Greetings!” I shouted in a loud and confident voice.  “I hate to name drop, but I’m Bob.  You know…like in Mars and sheep and whatnot?”

Before she had a chance to praise me, I found myself inexplicably drawn to heave my heart onto my sleeve.

“Oh, sure, I may not look like much,” I said, tears welling in my bloodshot eyes, “A few scars from an unfortunate accident with an off-brand industrial chemical set my parents bought for me when I was two years old.  A bit of a large gut, uncontrollable sweating, perhaps a few ‘alleged’ incidents involving running naked through McDonald’s, eating food randomly from other people’s trays while distracting them by singing the theme from, “The Love Boat” at the top of my lungs, and other disease-related things.  I suppose things like this make me unappealing to some.”

“What?  You were expecting maybe Leonardo DiCaprio?”

I jumped up and down and began to dance around her, screaming, “Oh, oh oh!  Look at me!  I’m Leonardo!  I’m the hero in some stupid-ass boat movie!  OOOH OOOH!  Look!  I’m Leonardo and I weight 80 pounds soaking wet, yet I play the lead man and I save some chubby girl even though I can’t wipe my own ass without special help!”

I carried on emotionally as tears gushed down my face in a river of righteous indignation.  “I’ve had my share of hurt!  I may have my problems, but I’m a human being!  I’ve got dreams and hopes and aspirations like anyone!  Do you not realize it was President Gerald Ford himself who once said, ‘Even we chubby bastards need love as well and hamburgers now and then?’  DON’T YOU?!?

There I was, on my knees, screaming and weeping, when suddenly the girl’s parents came by, gave me a nasty look, grabbed her and took her into “Toy Story 2.”

I gathered myself up, grabbed a bag of popcorn that someone had foolishly left on the counter while tying their shoes, and went in to see, “Mission to Mars.”

It was okay, I guess.  Some morons go up in a rocket, drink a lot of Tang, use those little toilets with that crazy blue water in it, and they go to Mars.  I think everybody dies, but I don’t remember.

I Stole another movie from the loser video rental place in town. Snooky is on another bourbon bender, thus I’ve found ‘tis better to leave her until she sleeps it off. More of Snooky’s embarrassing antics can be found at http://www.sendbobtomars.com. Anyway, I got that movie “Magnolias.”

The hype alone made me want to see “Magnolias”. I, as part of the elite movie-viewing public, have finally accepted the fact that if a movie is promoted enough on TV, radio, newspapers, web, graffiti, blogs and shaved in sheep (my personal favorite), we have no choice but to fork over our hard-earned allowance money and see the film. Magnolias is such a movie. Oh, I’ve seen the hype…and all I can say is: FRAUDULENT!

The trailer features such prominent actors as Tom Cruise and some guy in a hospital, and…er, that guy with the big nose. But when I finally inserted the movie into my Betamax, it was nothing but chicks! Julia Roberts, Dolly Parton, Darryl Hannah, Shirley MacClaine, and that chick with the huge nose. Oh…and that tiny, whiny brunette from “Smokey and the Bandit.”

I forced myself to watch it, and the sheer boredom made me want to gouge out my eyes with sheep hoofs. The plot consists of a bunch of women sitting around some hair salon talking about picnics and rotten husbands until finally Julia Roberts gets so frustrated with it all that she has a seizure and dies, and then everybody laughs and has a picnic and an Easter bunny drives up on a motorcycle and drives somebody somewhere.

But…you know, “chick flicks” aren’t all bad, if you sit and think about it, which I do frequently. Julia Roberts, for instance. Oh, sure she may have a mouth like a horse and a laugh like a hyena on crack, but she’s rich and female, which pretty much satisfies all three of my requirements for eternal love and happiness.

Then I got to thinking…I’ve never had much luck with girls. No, they don’t seem to have much time for a simple, sensitive, intelligent, sheep-loving guy with a bit of a gut, a few oozing, open sores, a penchant for booze and scratching and perhaps collecting the occasional roadkill carcass for his kick-ass “Dead Zoo” in his parent’s basement where he still lives.

But Julia, I think, would be different. We would traipse about the daisies, singing little happy-like songs and running naked into each other’s arms. I can already hear her singing, “Beer Barrel Polka” whilst I am tickled under the chin by a brutish German midget. Sure, some might call that some silly pipe-dream, but we have to reach for the stars, damn it! As President Eisenhower once said, “If you don’t reach for the stars, don’t drag your welfare-soaking ass to Illinois or I’ll put the smackdown on yo ass.”

Oh, and another thing, these idiot producers need to finalize a name. “OOOOooh, oh, I like “Magnolia!” “No, no, no, I like Steel Magnolias!” How is a young Jewish sheep friend who has a thing for Gary Coleman supposed to keep his Magnolia movies straight? At least I didn’t pay for it. Anyway, 2 out of a lot of stars for “Magnolia.”