HEY! It's that Mike guy!

Hi everybody!

It's me, Mike here talking about a dude who fell asleep on me this morning who was on some sort of hard drug while I was on the train. He was 19-20, 160 lbs, bullring nose-piercing, and a weird ear piercing wearing a Tool shirt from a concert so long ago he must have been 13 years old to attend it.
As I sat doing my crosswords and listening to Beck, this young chap stumbled onto the train and sat next to me, on my left. As the train took off he immediately fell asleep and began doing that slowly drifting off thing we all do when we are tired for a day of school. But this young man had a dried scab on his forehead that was drifting precariously close to my shoulder. I cannot have some stranger's blood on my nicely ironed shirt before I go to make comics. NO! So, leaned forward and he fell behind me, jostling himself awake. Close call.
A few moments pass, and it starts happening again. He drifts closer and closer to me. I clear my throat and he straitens up. A few moments pass, then he just slumps over and rests his head on my shoulder. This would've been cute if it were James Holland of Made of Babies, but this man was no sexy looker like The Hollandaise. I don't know if I was empowered by the classic tunes of Odelay or the fact that I was worried about my shirt, but I popped his head off by thrusting my shoulder. I was angry. He looked at me, confused. The way a small child looks at you when you take away his/her toy for no good reason. I looked at him and said, a bit too loudly, "I'm not your fucking pillow, dude." Everyone within earshot tensed up. Was there going to be an altercation? Fisticuffs perhaps? No! My sleepy friend merely said, confused, "No, you're not." and went back to sleep. We agreed upon something.
My outburst did no good, as he fell asleep on me again. So, gave him a nice, chunky, open-mouthed, wet smoker's cough to the side of the head which barely roused him, and in no time I was at Union Square, ready to transfer trains. It was lovely. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

-Mike

punchy

I am accused of being punchy today. By James. This is the exchange. In this transcript, I am me and James is James, obviously. It has been edited for spelling and typos so that we seem smarter than we are.

me: here is my new favorite joke. and it is old.

what do you get for the pedophile who has everything?

James: is that a b.c. quote?

or from another source?

me: a bigger parish.

it is neither.

it is a joke.

James: is there a punch line?

me: what do you get the pedophile who has everything? a bigger parish.

that is the joke.

James: ah haha

that's dark

me: YOU'RE dark.

James: this is also true

me: pfft.

James: someone's punchy today. can you guess who?

me: no.

James: i think you can. so i'm not giving any hints. instead i'll just leave it.

me: where will you leave it?

James: directly below my laptop

so i guess on my lap

me: what is it doing there?

James: waiting until i stand up to fall on the floor

me: ahoy.

The reason why I am posting this exchange instead of something of substance is because I am a heinous blogger and have nothing better to write but we need to get started on this blog for MOB and I guess I'm the one who drew first and gets the blog hymen. Sweet sassy molass-y. I warned my fellow members that I couldn't get my swerve on verbally today. So, if you're reading this, this is their fault that they weren't feeling up to snuff to take this off my hands. And cause they hate me.
And, James, when you read this, I hope you're not hiding the shine. There's no shame.
fighting the seether (yeah, random Veruca Salt reference!),
akw