Courtney's Guide To Humor: Sumo Wrestlers
Hmm, I've recentIy spent some time logging on to Sam Fisher's computer (the Chaos Theory experience), and it proves that a 17-year old fashionista/geek can do some back-slapping the Gripling (read: hip-hop) way. I should have messed up somebody else's blog, but here it goes: You're in Japan, and you watched one of those sumo things on TV. And you may think of sumo as a sport involving two "fat dudes wearing diapers trying to knock each other over". So, Sam, do you think that sumo wrestling is something that guys and girls (like your daughter) alike could laugh at, thinking that they wear diapers worser than Tommy Pickles could imagine? Wake up, folks, no one with the strength to crack my platform shoes (or can even make craters on planet Mars) can do something so humiliating - after all, it's their tradition - fat guys trying to knock each other in front of an audience. Ah, what the heck? Happy Blogging and God Bless! - Courtney = )
Paris In Mars: Emily Kapnek Does It Again
Here's a newsletter entry from Klasky-Csupo that is too good to be true:The Nickelodeon live action feature film based on the cartoon series As Told By Ginger is heating up with star-power as Paris Hilton joins the cast as Ginger's friend Courtney Gripling! The movie, "As Told By Ginger In Outer Space", takes the cartoon cast of middle school girls and puts them in a futuristic high school on Mars (!). It will feature Lindsay Lohan as Ginger, Usher as Darren (hey!), and rock star Bono as Ginger's younger brother Carl.Hmm, I don't think the "ATBG crew in Mars" thing is such a good (albeit astig) story. No one would waste their movie tickets just by watching a movie with a story like this, even if it stars a Courtney Gripling wannabe, unless they would make a better storyline that even real teenagers would appreciate, like what I saw in a typical love story - less the "f-words" and stuff. (unless they made a scene featuring Mr. Sam Fisher from Splinter Cell). And for you Courtney, do a motorcycle burnout, please. - Blake = )
Pirated Entry: Young Sam Fisher
(taken from http://samfisherblog.com/)The other day, Sarah and I were cleaning out the attic, when we stumbled upon one of my old yearbooks. Needless to say, Sarah got a good laugh at my expense -- what is it about yearbook photography that makes everyone look so dorky? Does anyone take good yearbook photos?Anyway, looking at the yearbook got me thinking about my childhood. I'm not the kind of guy to dwell on the past, but I figured I'd share a bit of my wonder years with everyone.I was born in 1957, when Elvis was cool, cars were the size of boats, and everything was in black and white. I grew up in your typical "Leave it to Beaver" suburban setting -- white picket fences, lemonade stands, and a fallout shelter in every basement.I was a pretty quiet kid growing up, and I didn't have many friends in my school days. I wasn't very popular at recess, mainly due to some marathon hide-and-seek games. I would take the hiding part a bit too seriously, and well, let's just say I was no stranger to the back of milk cartons. I was pretty good about staying in line with school authority, but when the teacher wasn't looking, I was always stirring something up. Intercepting passed notes, performing recon missions in the teacher's lounge, and finding alternative uses for common school supplies were all trademarks of the young Sam. I was also a legendary spitball shooter. I perfected a technique for enhancing spit balls with broken pencil leads. These modified spitballs, combined with innate accuracy and range, actually made welts on some of my targets. It's the kind of thing that would get you sued in this day and age, so don't try it at home.During summers, my parents would send me to camp. Of course, camp only means one thing -- covert missions to the neighboring all-girls camp. We didn't have sticky cams back in those days, so we had to settle for poking a hole in a fence -- a delicate operation to say the least. Unfortunately, my stealth skills weren't quite what they are today, and I'm not proud of my success rate as a youngster.My teenage years were spent in the '70s, but while other kids had disco fever, I was a gym rat. I was never any good at team sports -- I can't stand dealing with weak links in the chain -- so I spent most of my gym time lifting weights and doing calisthenics. It was in my high school gym where the seeds of discipline were sown.After high school, I enlisted in the Army for college money, and found my "calling." After that, I joined the Navy Seals, and then went on to a bunch of stuff I'm not authorized to talk about. Anyway, enough with the trip down memory lane. I'm not usually one who thinks about the "good old days," but sometimes it's good to reminisce on where you came from. If it weren't for that dorky yearbook picture, though...To Sam: Do a blog entry about using a toilet, and then try again.
"Hey Mr. Fisher, check this out,"
Hmm, I would definitely ditch the plan for my sister Courtney for takin' over my blog...I dunno. It sucks when it happens, but anyway, I would rather allow Mr. Sam Fisher (the Splinter Cell guy) to check out (or even hack) my blog. Ahh, what the heck? God Bless and peace out. - Blake = )