"Sandwich Flats is six, grab your crucifix..."

7,8, better stay up late...

What the what? A Freddy Krueger reference? You got that right, Dillweeds! Pulling out all the stops!!!

  Okay, so those that read this blog regularly(and by my calculations, that means several million people, domestic and international) know that my intention was to have the 6th birthday of Sandwich Flats coincide with the 1500th post. Well, after a valiant effort, that was a miserable failure. I am still about 40 posts short. Pathetic, I know, but what are you gonna do, huh?

  Anyhoo, as I realized that the dream of a 6th birthday/1500 postapalooza was slipping through my fingers, I realized that I needed to come up with something different to do for the 6th Birthday, and I knew that simply a clever Nightmare on Elm Street reference would not be enough(though it was a fantastic start, don't you think?). No, I needed to do something else. But what? I wracked my feeble brain. And it finally came to me: LSD!!
  Yes, I would set up the webcam, drop some acid, and let the magic happen!

Well, as one might guess, 12 hours of a fat, shirtless, sweaty man playing air bongos to a loop of  Kansas' "Carry On Wayward Son" is CAPTIVATING viewing. Unfortunately, at some point during the festivities, I decided that the webcam was stealing my soul, so I immersed in a class of Sprite Zero so I could relax without the the prying eyes of "Big Brother" glaring and judging me.

    Fortunately, I had the foresight to have a notebook on hand. And of course, I was able to take some very coherent notes.What's that? You would like me to share those notes with you? Well, I guess maybe I could...

  6:45 pm- Nothing yet. Just sitting here. Chillin'.

  6:46 pm- Okay, A small army of wombats  have emerged from under the bed.They seem to be friendly. I think I might try and talk to the one wearing the French World War I helmet, he seems to be the leader.

7:05 pm- Okay, I have had a talk with Christophe, and we seem to have reached an accord...They will rule the space underneath the bed(which will be called "Wombattia") and I will not interfere, and they will not cause any trouble for the space outside Wombattia. The discussions got tense for a few minutes there, but luckily cooler heads prevailed.

  7:10pm- Seriously wondering why I EVER listen to any song other than "Carry On Wayward Son" by Kansas. It is the hottest jam ever!

 7:15pm- I worry there maybe unrest in Wombattia...I hear a lot of "Rage Against the Machine" coming from under the bed, and there are rumors that Christophe has limited the wombats internet access. Currently all they can watch are "Touched By An Angel" reruns on HULU.

7:29pm-I think I can hear footsteps two blocks over.

  7:40pm- "Once I rose above the noise and confusion, just to a get a glimpse beyond this illusion. i was soaring ever higher...But I flew too high."  Amen, Kerry Livgren.

7:55pm- Christophe is dead, and Wombattia is now being led by Marcel, the leader of the resistance,and a popular wombat mime.

8:05pm-Really enjoying the texture of this bread, man. have you ever, like, FELT bread, man? I bet you haven't.

8:16pm- I think I misjudged the bread. I really don't trust it now.

8:37pm-Wombattia is eerily quiet...I suppose that is due to the mime regime.

9:12pm- eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap

9:59pm- IT'S ALMOST 10!!!!!

10:17-Now it's 10:17...How did I miss 10?

 10:34pm- The camera was not to be trusted. It has  been neutralized. huh. Neutralized...That's a fun word to say: neutralizedneutralizedneutralized...

11:24pm- I think there may be more unrest in Wombattia. I have been hearing whispers, and under the mime regime, even that is unlawful. If someone puts on even a James Taylor cd, I fear violence may erupt.

11:33pm-The whispers have grown louder...And I think I hear a wombat humming Nick Drake...I think the end may be near for the mimes.

11:48pm- Turnips

12:19 am- The Mime regime came to a swift and markedly non-silent end. Apparently, Sebastien is now in power, and the corpse of Marcel is being hung from the bedpost.These are truly trying times, my friends.

12:52 am- "Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man, though my mind could think i still was a madman"

1:45 am-Was that bookcase always in the shape of Shelley Winters?

2:26 am- I have  requested an audience with Sebastien, as I fear the continued unrest in Wombattia may soon spill out from under the bed, dealing a rather large harsh to my mellow. At the moment, I don't know if my mellow can handle even the smallest harsh.

2:49 am- Looking out the window, can see the building next door breathing...Good to know it's still alive.

3:07-I have spoken with Sebastien...I think we have reached an uneasy peace...He definitely did not appreciate my shirtlessness, or that I told him to stop throwing his fingernails at me, but I think we will still be able to co-exist.

3:27 am- This Mountain Dew tastes strangely like milk...It is also an odd, white color.

4:17 am- Man, I wish I still had Spirograph.

5:00 am- The wombats have gone.'m not sure where or why, but Wombattia is deserted.I feel sad, but oddly at peace.

5:04 am- I think I'll put on some T. Rex...After all...Life's a gas,ain't it?

I must have dozed off shortly after that. But there you have it.Sandwich Flats is six years old.

Peace, y'all.

Upcoming Milestones....

That's right, there's some important shit on the horizon here at ole Sandwich Flats..On February 28th, this here blog will have been taking up space on the tubes of this spinning blue ball for 6 years. Also, we are hurtling towards the 1500th post as well.

  Are you thinking what I'm thinking? That it would would be hella cool if the 1500th post coincided with February 28th? No, you weren't thinking about that? You were thinking about the unions in Wisconsin and the upheaval in Egypt? Well, yeah that stuff's important...But how cool would it be if my 1500th post was also on the 6th anniversary of the blog? That's right, hella cool!!

  So, all I gotta do is write 7 posts a day for the next 8 days, and KA-BLAMMO, the 1500th post will happen on the 28th. Whoo-hoo!!! I better get a typin'!!!

New Look....

I'm thinking I may revamp the ole blog here. I'm kinda thinking as long as I'm on blogspot, I'm going to take advantage of some of the things it offers. I like the current design, but it looks really bad in Google Chrome which is currently the browser I use most often, so I am thinking I might go back to one of the old blogger templates for awhile. Wow, I did not switch to italics on purpose,but I think I like the effect. I think I might write ONLY in italics now(that could be the first stage of the revamp)...In fact, I'm gonna go even bigger than that! I'm gonna LIVE only in italics!! It all starts NOW!!!

2 Years Old...

That's right, Sandwich Flats is now three days past 2 years old. I think it's called a "blogversary" or something, or I suppose it could be a blog birthday too. I don't know...I don't care. I just feel like celebrating me, so I'm doing it.
I think I'll commemorate the event by repeating my very first post, so that we can all see how far I have not come....Enjoy.

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Okay, the time is here for the “ Flying Underpants “.

I just want to, nay, I need to include this little disclaimer- You all must choose to read this story at your own risk. I will and can not accept responsibility for anything that may occur due to the reading of this story. Now, I am not necessarily saying that bad things will happen, but there are not many people who read or hear the tale of the “ Flying Underpants “ without it affecting their life in some way. Could be good, could be bad, but most likely, changes will occur. Consider yourselves warned.

Okay, with that out of the way, let’s move on, shall we ? Or, should I say, to those of you brave enough to continue, let’s move on ? Before we start, I feel that you need to know some of the sacrifices that were made to bring you this time-honored tale of intrigue, mystery, sex(ooh), khaki shorts, and of course, “ FLYING UNDERPANTS" !!!!!!!! On this project, I had a research team of eleven grad students from nearby Domino City College. Most of them were students in geology, but I gave them a song and dance about this research counting toward their Reflective GPA Scale, and they bought it !! Anyway, they did a hell of a job researching. Fortunately, there were only minor injuries to the team, and only one fatality( Joey- largely considered the Heart ‘N’ Soul of the team, was killed when a textbook he was carrying ruptured, covering his body in a highly toxic ink and parchment paste- he fought hard, but it was too late. We dedicate this tale to Joey- “ Our Little Spark Plug “ ! ) during this particular research mission. Believe me, I have lead research expeditions where up to twenty five people lost their lives in the many libraries and thrift bookstores across this great nation. It’s sad, but is certainly a risk worth taking.

Now on with the story.THE FLYING UNDERPANTS(traditional-as told by Paticus)The flying underpants is a tale that seems as old as time itself, sometimes older. However, that is not the case. Aesop could not have told this tale. Nor could have the Brothers Grimm. Dr. Suess ? Perhaps, before he sold out with that "Fox in Socks" crap. Fox in Socks ? What the hell was that ? But, I digress. Our tale is the “ Flying Underpants “. Or as I have heard it called, “ The Underpants of the Air “ Or “ Airborne Underpants “. For our purposes, we will stick with the more traditional and accepted “Flying Underpants" .

We begin in Smalltown, USA, just down the road a stretch from “ The Big City “. Our hero is a fellow by the name of Craig Benrettle, a charming young man who just happens to be the Mayor of Smalltown, USA. He lives in a small cottage by the Old Mill Stream. On Saturdays, he likes to fish. On Sundays, he has a fishfry, and all his friends come and partake in the great food. Mrs. Tuttle brings her wonderful mustard and relish potato salad. Mr. Gipple, the owner of the Watering Hole, brings sodas, beer and flavored spring water for everyone. You know the kind of party. There are games and music. Ol’ Charley plays his fiddle, with Bubba on drums, and Clovis on washtub bass.Shortly after the sun goes down, Mayor Craig enters the house and emerges a few minutes later with a large box draped in velvet. Cousin Chester plays the town song on his bugle, and then Mayor Craig opens the box.

Inside, laying in a bed of purple satin, is a XXXXXXTRA Large pair of white cotton men’s briefs. Mayor Craig lowers his head, and the rest of the partygoers follow suit. When the time is right, Craig bellows “ IT IS TIME FOR THE FLYING UNDERPANTS OF SMALLTOWN, USA !!!!!!!!!” The underpants are then hooked to the flagpole, and run up to the top. The breeze off of the Old Mill Stream blows the underpants, filling them with air, and making them appear to “ FLY “.For a few seconds, everyone puts their hand on their hearts. Mayor Craig then walks to the center of the crowd, drops his pants, and announces : “ LET THE SMALLTOWN, USA FLYING UNDERPANTS ORGY…BEEEEEEGIIIIN!!!!!!!!!!!!! “And begin it does.

THE END

There you go, my friends, there is the story of "The Flying Underpants." Thank you, and goodnight.