Saturday, October 17, 2009

The Interview (or, "fiodjfkaljdfiodjfk!!!!!")

Well, well, well.


Readers! We (dis & dat, duh) have not forsaken thou'sies! DDB jus 'bin bizzy is all, spinnin dat (NOT YOU, DAT) proverbial wunderweb clear 'cross dis (NOT ME, EVERYONE) fyne roun ting kids'uh 'bin callin EARTH fur at least a Benj(/ifipsydipsy, who--you asked!--b worth the fynest WOODEN NICKEL dis [no!] side o Greenlan')amin's nummer o dollahs in yearsie-form! That's 100, 'case yer brain haz(enough, please)n' caught up w/ thu lofty bran'uh speakins dat (see above) b sum D, summore o it, and a pinch o delicious B for gud maize(mmm--NOT! LOL, corn)ure.

Srsly, dough, DDB 'bin gettin arown, and not *like that,* either, you gutterkin'. Like in thu "hop onboard dis whirlyflyin mache(DDB's nabbed awards for such, b knowin)een cuz it b tr'nsport'n u straight onta Finfifthbestofive and even ICY (fkjaodfdlafkj!! whoa der ICY!! u dun straight knocked 'dese t[h]ree [no trees in ICY! jus sum dum ol lichens, a.k.a. ROCK FUR!!!] ltrs--D,D,B--clear in'tuh dat ewrecksuxosphere [that's far, ill-advised, and smelly, and we deplore you not to send us there], son[s & dottirs!!]).

Inyways, readers, u bes b 'lievin dis & dat b spreadin the lip-smackin gud word roun'uh wurl' like tube food on cardboa--CRACKER. (LOL, same diff.) Ur, well, not zackly like dat, as (we) won (THE BLOG OFF; bfips, you sorest of losers!!) halv uv DDB b singin dat non-messy Virgo song high/loud/proud, and les face it, readers, Skinkost is a turr'ble mess jus waitin'uh happen.

So. We're back, fisties cocked n ready fur w'ev 'dose adorin wingnutz over at Sucked in Park Slope cur'tuh toss our gold-paved way. Cuz dey b carin (DDB's childhood bestie was named Carin, LOL) alright. Hellz, dey b carin such'at dey hadda up n hitch on down'uh VEGAS tuh tell a hooker bout it!! Aw, ewree--u truly do take the cake. No, really. (LOL!!!)

Always somethin, readers, always somethin.


Sorry, had to get that out. (LOL.)

Now, where were we...

Oh, yes. Friday. Friday fast-breakin.

Picture it readers: DDB--primed, pumped, shiny w/ reputation--perched conspicuously at a small rustic table, finest of laminate, forking tasty morsels of American-slathered (LOL--the cheese not the people!!) frittata and thick-cut bacon in between slurpsips of rich Colombian roast, when who should enter their (our!) costly line of vision (special one-time offer for all DDB readers: appear before our eyes at the bargain rate of one thousand dollars per minute!! LOL; really, though) but the oft-ribbed and deservedly so BFIPS AND EWRECK THEMSELVES.

Check it:

Spot em? Wussat--you don't? Ahh, we think we get why that may be. Could it be that months of hatin on Park Slope babies, mamas, strollers, and life other/generalwise has aged The Dynamic Duo(denum: look it up, learn a thing) beyond all reco'nition?? It is so, readers! Bes' trust us, dis b dem!!*

And this guy is none too happy for it!!! WATCH YO BACK, BDIPS--he's with us. LOL.

At any rate, DDB, prone to dishin ("dish"--LOL) pleasantries and altogether inquizitive of/towards any-n-alls, pulled up a seat (not pictured) and made nice (not pictured). Thus was spawned an impromptu Q&A session, and you 'kin no doubt guess, loyalest readers (flattery will git us somewhere??? LOL), who was on which end.

Aaaaand, I quote:

DDB: Don’t mind if we do.
Bfips: [visibly flustered] Ur, uh, I…
DDB: Yes, Sir Benjidips?
Ewrecka: [nervous look around; slightly more ‘together’ than her flummoxed companion] What he means to say is that he is pleased to at last have the pleasure of meeting you, oh holiest of holy blogs, in person(s).
DDB: Ah.
Bfips: [facial muscles a’twitch] So, uh, wha, I mean…
DDB: Bfips, what seems to be the problem here? Hemorrhoids? A goiter? LOL. Wurl-famous as we may be, DDB always makes thyme--and rhyme if ya jus throw us some lic’rish!!--for the little guys. The underlingers. The hopefuls. The shameless gawkers. For YOU, bfipsy!! Don’t be nervous--we like ya! You have a place! So wut it it’s beneath the lid of a garbage can!?! Shirley (who??) sum delicious scrapsies await you and dat der ewree!! Let’s hope dey from here, son!!
Bfips: [appalled] How did you… how…
Ewrecka: "How did you know of our precise whereabouts," he means to say.
DDB: Ah. Well, guys, stompers of baby hearts the wurlwide, suffice it to say we got our ways. One of them has to do wit ‘dese tings called EYES. Eyes ‘at be scopin a B an’ a E peerin out cu’spic’usly from dat grubby home turf ala Oscar the Grouch!! Fourth and Degraw, baby! Whoops. Sorry to have revealed your address to our TEN MILLION READERS. (Readers: bfips wants your moldy olives. And expired salad dressing. LOL!!!!)
Ewrecka: Hey now, let’s play fair. We know DDB has an infinitely larger readership than our lowly, piss-poor hate-geyser does, but isn’t that all the more reason to go easy on us? To shower us with pity and lovingkindness and tips for (your) unheralded success?? I mean, sure, we may eat discarded cheese shreds for dinner, but we’re people too, DDB!
DDB: [laughing maniacally] Right.
Bfips: We, we, we...
Ewrecka: “We are,” he means there.
DDB: Pssh! You’re as much ‘people’ as this guy is. Oh, wait, you can’t see that--trust us, he’s a real case.
Bfips: Uh, uh, bluh, fjldajfiodfjkdjfladjsfkdjf.
DDB: Really, bfips? Well gosh, if that isn’t the most interesting thing we’ve heard out of your mouth ever. Keep it comin, bdipsy.
Bfips: fjoidajflkdjflakdjflk;djf;lk.
Ewrecka: [sighing] Admittedly, he’s completely overwhelmed in the company of Kings. I suppose we’d best be on our way. It’s dangerously close to naptime, anyway.
DDB: We understand. We can only--ONLY--imagine what that might be like. In a different time, world, galaxy, dimension, et al.
Ewrecka: Oh, DDB. Thank you for even trying. We--I know I speak for the both of us here--recognize the incredible stretch of imagination such a thing would entail. But, say, I have a parting question to ask you.
DDB: [checking watch compulsively, a lunchtime Frank Bruni appointment drawing frighteningly close] Shoot.
Bfips: Ar--dkfjakdlfjkljvljf.
Ewrecka: Hey btrip--let dis do duh talkins, eh?
DDB:: Ewreck! You’re making progress!! It appears you are inching nearer embodiment of bona fide DDB-speak!!!
Ewrecka: Oh! Oh my! Oh oh oh!!!
DDB: Yes, you heard right. Keep up the coppin, kiddo. Now if you’d only stop punching toddlers and ovaries, maybe you’d have yourself a fraction of the legacy that is D-D-B. Quick--your question?
Ewrecka: [straight GLOWING] Okay. It’s just… well… Do you like Burkee C. better than us??
DDB: Yes. Yes we do. (Heeeey, Burk!! Lunch next week? LOL!!!!)

*Scroll tuh top image for a glimpse o'dat customary bfips' surl n snarl n general grim count'nance. Owie!