Facility9

It was a typical Saturday afternoon in Blacklick. The day had gone well – I had entertained a number of guests with some of my uproarious tales, a short self-penned one act opera, and a round of polo using burros instead of horses.

The classiest entertainment for the classiest people

After having one of my many servants clean the burro “leavings” from the polo field, we began setting up for the afternoon games – we mainly play lawn darts. The neighbors complained after their poodles went missing, but I informed them that there was no way I could hit a poodle in their lawn from my lawn because I have tried on a number of occasions but we were bear baiting last weekend and the bear got out and I hid under my car for an hour so I’m not really sure what happened to the poodle.

Does this thing play Spellicopter?

Long story short of it, we were rudely interrupted when the neighbor with the missing poodles brought over a misdelivered, but clearly addressed, package. I opened it and, to my surprise I found a strange key sealed in a clear material. With a note from my good friend, Lord Trololo of Ozar. I tried to open it with my hands, but it wouldn’t budge.

This is less than flattering, but I need that key!

I must have the key. It was taunting me, humiliating me in front my guests.

I'm sorry it's had to come to this, key.

When I finally opened the key, I found that it was a device of the USBs. Knowing that Lord Trololo frequently listens to the melodies of Lady Gaga, I attempted to plug my stereophonic headset into the USBs key that he had sent me. ALAS, TWAS NOT MEANT TO BE!

Nary a bad romance to be found

Thank you, BrentO. I wish I could be at TechEd to trololo with you. It was not meant to be… this year.