2, 2, 1... Beakoff!

This may be one of those disjointed posts where nothing really connects and I start redundantly.

Sausage is gristly.

In two weeks I'm going to England. Rumor has it (starring Mark Ruffalo) that I'm going to school there; however, the truth is that I'm under contract to investigate a crime most foul. An explanation: I was recently playing Where in Time is Carmen Sandiego? for the Super Nintendo. Of course, and with the help of the game-included encyclopedia, I was breezing through the early cases . When I got to Super Gumshoe level, though, the drama stepped "it" up a notch. Big Ben had been stolen. I was shocked, as I always am when virtual events take place, but I was already on the trail. The criminal liked art by an impressionist who specialized in painting ballerinas. I figured this had to be either Mary Cassatt or Edgar Degas, so I went to check my trusty sidekick when... gasp! The encyclopedia was gone! All that remained was a note reading: "You are hired to solve the mystery of where your encyclopedia is. A little birdie told us you should start in London..."

Was there a signature on the note, you inquire? Yes. It was James Dean's!

"Non sequiturs are so not cool."

In two days I'm going to Chicago. I think I have friends there, so I might hang out with them. They'll probably pressure me into doing things I otherwise wouldn't do, and I'll end up appeasing them by creating the following interactive game. It's called Turncoat Harry, and it features you telling me to do strange things in Europe. Do you want me to have a threesome with a member of the Royal Family and a bowler hat? Do you want me to swim up and down the Thames wearing nothing but a French flag? Do you want me start a sitcom on the BBC called "Running through Threshires"? Then suggest these things! Not only will I read the suggestions, but I may even laugh at them! Everyone has fun playing Turncoat Harry! Everyone, that is, except propriety.

I read the first Paddington Bear story today, seeing as how I'll soon be living next to Paddington station. It was cute. Like a bear from Darkest Peru.

"I'm even cuter when sculpted with eyes."

In one day (meaning Friday) the most important event of my year is occurring: My mom is buying a bird! If bird jokes were hilarious before my family housed a bird, I can't imagine how topically hilarious they'll be when there actually is a bird in the house. I can already picture myself letting you people in at the door, walking you past the cage, and introducing you to my "fine feathered friend." He'll be cleaning himself, and I'll say something like "It's hard out there for a primp!" And because you haven't watched Leno this week, you would've only heard a joke referencing that song twice in the last week and it will still be awesome.

I wonder what my mom will name the bird. I'm guessing the Harry Potter lobby in my family will push for something like Hedwig, but you can count on me to pressure for the only name a bird of comedy should have: Eddie Gizzard.

A crossdressing bird of comedy, I mean.