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Welcome to the first ever Pudding Tray. The article, I mean... Not an actual tray of pudding... There might have been some of those before, I don't know... I am your incoherent host, OiNutter. Please ladies! Give me some space! Hahah, oh those girls... always flocking around me and screaming wildly whenever they hear my name. It's almost as if I had paid them fifty-seven US dollars each... per day... for three months... written on my special Pudding Tray checks... Which I didn't. *Cough*
I realize that some of you may not know me, so for those two of you (and you KNOW who you are) I'm going to do something special. I've decided to start our new relationship off right by telling you a huge lie: this article has a topic. That's right, it has a topic and it's uh... cat pants. Yeah. This is where you go to get your cat pants news of the month. Now let's never speak of that again.
You may be asking "OMG WTK IS THIS? How did I get here? Why are there badgers in my pockets?" so I've made up a simple diagram to show you just what Pudding Tray is and how it relates to you:
Some points I would like to better clarify:
-Pudding Tray may be an article. I really don't know. It might be wearable.
-Pudding Tray contains no less than 27 veiled personal slams targeting KingKashue every month.
-Pudding Tray is what I think about when the Martians are giving away free cybernetic implants again... silly aliens...
-Pudding Tray is immune to your puny bullets. You just can't kill it like that. Sorry.
-Pudding Tray is not life. Any attempts to compare it to life or uncover hidden meanings will result in a brutal beating applied to your kitchen utensils and maybe a hearty chortle hidden in your sock drawer.
-King Kashue is a big fat dumbface.
-Pudding Tray shall from now on be referred to as "Manbeat's Dog."
-Pudding Tray does not respect your wussy ham sandwich.
-Pudding Tray is what political prisoners are forced to read in the future.
-Pudding Tray is life. How can you not see that? You must be really dumb.
-Pudding Tray is late. That's not a generalization.
-Pudding Tray is a collection of words that would normally make sense together. There are also pictures that have absolutely no relevance. I've never seen them?
^Homeworld2's spokesmodel demonstrating the cell phone feature of Nokia's new N-Gage... thing.
Before I tell you what Pudding Tray is, how about I tell you about myself? Yes, I like that idea! Thank you for supporting that idea by reading my staff page before you read this article!
So uh... what's up with MMORPGs? I'm strangely attracted to them... yet nothing ever seems to happen. I've tried many, and yet it's usually the same experience. You kill things. A lot. I mean, that's a prime staple of many games, no doubt about that, but normally there is some purpose to what you do... like a story or something. They should make MMORPGs single player from now on. That way, they can make them less like an MMORPG. You can save the princess and 20568 other players haven't saved her before you. Sure, the player-based economy and geo-political systems would suffer a little, but who's going to care? Nobody will know! You'll be so sequestered from the rest of humanity that you won't even have to worry about buying that set of armor just because it looks cool. On second thought, those games should be turned into zero player games. Having a single player in that kind of world gives them too much of a chance to screw it over. Everyone should just be able to watch the game play itself. It would be like reality TV.
Wow, that chunk of deep thought exhausted my brain! Time to go to the zoo to test out my new animal repellant... The fewsals won't know what hit them!
Hmm... I'm still here... That's kind of odd and exciting.
^Woah!! Europe! That's just what I was waiting for! Seeya, suckers! I'm gonna be the king of Europe as soon as I can scrounge up four hundred buckaroos!!
..
...
Oh man... I've only got $399... That sign may say you can get Europe for a flat three ninety-nine, but I know how it REALLY is. It's like... buying webspace or something. I mean... If you want a DOMAIN too, you gotta shell out that extra dollar. It's the same in this situation: if you want the Magic Crown of Europe (Collector's Edition, natch) then you have to add in that dollar. Besides, it's five dollars extra if you want to use your own name while ruling Europe with an iron fist. If you don't do it, they just give you some randomized name. I don't want to be called something stupid like King Kashue because of a random name generator. That would suck. Besides, you've got to add in shipping and handling when you're purchasing a continent. True story.
Would we know if penguins were fake?
^Best... Pseudocode... Ever^
Speaking of such, let me tell a story about how Pudding Tray came to be. One day I was sitting in my room that I share with only seven other people, trimming the skin around a wound that I suspect was mafia-inflicted. Or maybe paper-inflicted. MafiaPaper-inflicted. Anyway, Chico, or Despot, or someone walked in and shouted something like "OMG you cut your fingar orf!!!" and then vomited 47.2 consecutive times. Actually, I think it was Mumbly Joe. Nobody vomits like Mumbly Joe. No wait... I'm thinking about a different story. I think that this time it was Lord Smythe. At the time he was in town performing various unrelated studies and experiments that all related to pants in some way. Anyway, he walks in and seeing the malaria I was about to get from licking the printer too many times, he tells me about this doctor named KingKashue. Only, KingKashue isn't a doctor. He's just some big burly guy. Only Lord Smyth didn't know that. So he tells me to go to the doctor. This is ironic because now Lord Smyt is KK's Wearing Pants 101 professor at Oxford. And they... hold on... gotta take a break here... I'll finish this story in a minute...
...Man... That coffee break turned into a three-week party! I both love and hate it when that happens!
^SO BEAUTIFUL!!!^
So... As I was saying... Oh yeah, the story about the ham eating contest. Anyway, Lord Smy and I were neck and neck with only one ham left to win the contest. So of course I grab for the ham, but Lord Sm's hand gets like really, really long and such and slaps the ham out of my reach after giving a high-five to someone in the audience. It would have been really cool if I weren't drooling all over the place. So everyone is slipping all around and sliding into manatees and chandeliers, so of course the troutpant salesman next door gets all mad and comes over to yell at me AND SLIPS ON THE HAM! Can you believe it? Well Lord S's fingers had gone back to normal so he decided to casually walk out and avoid suspicion because the Troutpan salesma and he are archrivals. But then I realized that Lord 's nameplate was left on the table an- err... Where was I going with this?
I think it's best for me to stop this article here.
Remember to join me next month when we will have done this 2ice!