If I don't seem like myself in this post, it's because I'm not. You know how that goes...
I'm looking forward to being myself again soon, because of all the people I've ever been, I was me the best. Not everyone can say that.
For example, let's say that I was Bert Bananas right now... Sure, that's way cool an' all, but what would all that freakin' sun do my my sweet, tender, succulent skin? Did you know that 'skin,' qua skin, is an organ of the body? It's true! Try living without it.
Anyway, if I were Bert Bananas right now I'd for sure have a great time. I'd be up close and socially personable with that adorable T with whom I'd be playing golf. The thought of watching Big-T bending over and picking up his "ball" out of the "hole" and then replacing the "stick" is wildly exciting and I may be stuck to my chair if I don't get those images out of my head!!!
But no life is all skittles and beer. Yes, I know a life can be all beer, and maybe that's enough...
Anyway, as me, myself, I just don't have the time to do any regular posting here. Even those lame videos, which took me all of 11 seconds to prepare and post, were taking up too much time. Hey, 11 seconds is 11 seconds and when you're me! Even for the likes of all of you, I can't spare them right now.
But as Bert Bananas, I have all day and a portion of the night to create posts. And not just ordinary posts! No ma'am! Bert Bananas posts are both unintelligible and tasteless! That's the kind of two-fer that scares the crap out of people who care for you. Don't look away, mon petite shy amis! I know you love and adore me, just as much as I love and adore me! We are match made in Heaven. Can you hear how my French accent has overwhelmed me?
So I'm going to be trying my hand at Bert Banana'ing between now and Sept. 01, 2007. Oh, I may try other "voices" but the one I'll love bestest bestest will be my Bert Bananas voice.
See? I even fooled Blogger into thinking I am he!
4 comments:
Oh, Bert. It's kind of you to cover when Cel's out on tour.
If you are in Kat's skin, does that mean you are playing with her boobies?
And if you are indeed doing that, how could you possibly blog because my son told me if he had boobs he would never leave the bathroom.
I have to wear a blindfold. And big oven mittens. And no flash photography is allowed.
However, I can report that the atmosphere is redolent with... there's this je n'ais se qua...
Okay, I think it's the scent of orgasmic convergence. Or would that be a stench?
Damn, I've never sounded so good! I think I'm stuck to my seat,--nope, that's just sweat.
However, now that you're Bert B., you are much less attractive to you... -trust me.
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