Celebrate Good Times--C'mon

As most of you are aware by now, Mitchieville will turn 1 year old on December 30. I mentioned earlier on this week that I'm going to put up a few of my favourite posts until December 30, and I don't intend on disappointing you. Unless you didn't want me to post anything, then that would certainly be a major disappointment.

Tuesday January 11, 05, I posted a piece called *Light My Wiccan*, and it goes something like this:

As my New Years resolution, I decided I was going to join a local group in Mitchieville, to expand my horizons, if you will. I checked out a few places, but I wasn't really interested in what they had to offer, until I stumbled across a unique group called the Wiccans Of Mitchieville's Birthright, or WOMB.

It wasn't easy getting into the WOMB, I really had to force myself in. I had to grease the WOMB first, and after I penetrated it, I went to my first meeting tonight. What a mistake.

I'll have to be honest with you, the only reason I even entered the WOMB was to meet women. You see, being the Mayor of Mitchieville is a 24/7/365 job. It consumes most of my time and leaves little room for a social life. I figured if I could shove myself into the WOMB, I might be lucky enough to meet a good woman and settle down a bit, fill my life so to speak.

They asked me to bring a sacrifice to the "meeting". No problem, I brought a box of Pot O' Gold. I barely got through the door when the women basically attacked me and took the chocolates and started devouring them. It was like watching bad porn. They had chocolate all over their faces, and were making these animal grumblings and moans. It was kinda sickening, but I'm hardly a judgmental guy, so I let this slide.

Since I didn't have anything to eat for dinner, I figured I'd hit the buffet table first and grab some cold-cuts and a whiskey. Turns out that the Wiccans are vegan, and they don't drink booze. Strike one and strike two. I couldn't figure out how women so fat could survive only on vegetables, it was a mystery to me. I don't like vegetables, they seem like a tool of the devil, so I just kinda waited by the pentagram and put out some cool vibes.

The "meeting" was called to order, and we were all asked to take a seat on the floor and recite some script that all the Wiccans seemed to know. Since I didn't know it, I sang Black Magic Woman and played the air guitar. I fucking rock.

Things just didn't seem to be going well. For one thing, the WOMB were all dressed in black. I asked one of the little freaks beside me why don't they put on a splash of colour, tidy themselves up a bit, maybe even spray some perfume on themselves. That didn't go over too well. She told me that they are all unique, all individuals and don't conform to traditional society. I said to her, if you are all individuals, and are all unique, why do you all dress exactly the fucking same then?

Next came the pentagram ceremony. What a real yawner that was. Get in the pentagram, get out of the pentagram, put your left foot in the pentagram, take your left foot out of the pentagram. I thought we were doing the frickin' Hokey Pokey.

The WOMB isn't for me, I thought I'd love being in the WOMB, but the WOMB sucks. I'd like to smash the WOMB, the WOMB is cruel.

For any woman thinking of getting into the WOMB, you better think twice. The WOMB isn't for everybody, only a select few should be allowed to go into the WOMB. I thought I'd be a good member in the WOMB, that I could take the WOMB, that I could suck it up and beat the WOMB, but sadly, they won, I found I couldn't lick the WOMB.

For everyone out there who is stuck in the WOMB, get out and get help. If we all band together we can eliminate the WOMB.

I think I like that post so much because it has the acronym *WOMB* in it. Plus it's silly as hell, and the world needs more silly.

So, there ya go. Now you can get back to eating your turkey dinner, eating your turkey sandwiches, and drinking your turkey shakes.