Blogging at Sword Point

I've been in the habit of taking a nice little snooze on my sofa after work for the past couple of days. Tonight I was heartily snoozing away, when I felt a little prickle at the end of my nose. I peeled a eyelid open to see Mustard sitting on my chest poking his sword-shaped sandwich toothpick into my nose region.


(He's been hauling this sword around with him everywhere ever since he got it at last week's Peep Show. He pokes anything that comes within a 6 inch radius of him.)

"Quit it." I said. And closed my eyes again.

Poke.

"Go ahead. Keep it up." I threatened sleepily.

POKE.

"Seriously, Mustard. I'm napping here. Don't you know that my naps are nothing to trifle with?"

POKE! POKE! POKE!

"Alright." I said, giving up. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

"You've been promising to post my Peep Show pictures for a week now." He said testily. "And here you are, SLEEPING. Which you know, is exactly the opposite of POSTING."

I groaned. "You're right, you're right. I know you're right. But I don't think you understand how time consuming my hobbies have gotten lately. The online dating, and the real dating, and then having a job that actually requires me to work at it!? And don't even get me started on the gym."

"Blah, blah, blah. So what if you're spending 2 hours at the gym every night? Sure, you need it, but I don't see why your fat ass should have to come between me and my fans." He snorted.

"Fans? What fans? Need I remind you that you, dear Mustard, are a glorified condiment? Don't be giving me a hard time for being dedicated." I snorted right back.

"Pshish." He waved his sword in an irritating la-di-da kind of way, and said, "Honey, I may be a condiment, but without me you'd be one of those run of the mill middle-aged single girl rant blogs. Talk about overdone! AND ... need I remind you how many times people say to you, 'Hey, what's up with Mustard?' So don't go acting like you're ALL THAT. We both know where the talent lies in this operation."

"You," I grumbled, "are such an irritating little .... "

"Yes," he cut in with his winning little smile, "But you know you love me anyway. You are my Number One fan! And of course, I am totally like YOUR Number One fan. So will you pleeeeaaase post my pictures now?" he wheedled.

I sighed and said, "Fine. But only because I do owe it to MY fans. Now get off of my chest. And never stick that sword anywhere near my face again."

He grinned, hopped down, and said, "Okay, Okay. It's a deal. NOW! Less talking! More Typing!"

So now, I present you with some highlights of the Peep Show. Camie does a much better job chronicling the event.

Ok here is Mustard, Rockin the Socks off his "Fans" with an Axel Rose inspired scarf, a princess crown (cuz he's kind of a diva), some metallic pants (which he hated!), and his sandwich sword (which he has not set down once.)



Mustard is backed up by some peep bunny back up dancers ... but really, this is just a place for him to be his regular exhibitionist self.

When he wasn't Rockin the Mic, Mustard was swapping trade secrets with this Viet Cong Chook, in the Peep Ode to Torture and the Vietnam Prison Camp.



While the rest of us were laughing and chatting, I walked over to where Mustard and the Viet Cong Chook were whispering, and I swear to you I heard Mustard say, "Really? So you just drip water on their foreheads for hours and that classifies as torture? Huh. I wouldn't have EVER imagined such a thing." That was when I knew it was time to go before he got any more ideas.

Later in the car, Mustard expressed his disappointment in me that I hadn't chosen this theme to portray him in all of his manly manlitude. I told him I didn't care. I like rock concerts. Deal with it.

And actually, since he's practicing dealing with things, he's going to have to deal with the fact that those are all of the pictures I'm going to post. What can I say? Lazy is the new Pink.