Friday, January 17, 2003

I have just spent the last two hours playing Toobin', and I have to tell you I was unaware of the harsh reality that is the Toobin' lifestyle. You wake up in the morning, and you toob. You might not feel like toobin' that day. Maybe you had a hard night. Or maybe you even toobed all night.

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that you keep on toobin'.

I mean, a lot people resent the carefree life of the Toober (not the carefree life of the tuber, which is an altogether different matter). Everyone's trying to bring you down. If its not angry Eskimos on the shoreline, its penguins diving at you, fly fishermen trying to pop your toob, or pink mohawked gentlemen lobbing beer bottles at you.

And for the love of god, do there have to be so many branches in the river?

Thank the lord thoughtful rivergoers have left empty cans floating all along the stream to help the humble toober.

But people just can't handle it. Everywhere you go, from the American River to the River Styx, its all the same.

Can't you just let me toob?


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