A long time ago in internet years, I had another blog. It was called Drat & Blast and it was co-written with a very good friend of mine. I was Drat and he was Blast. This friend is hilarious and you’d all love him if he wrote more, which he really should, because he’s a talented writer.
He also lives in Philadelphia, which as you may know, is not very close to Los Angeles. Because of our continual proximity problems, we chat online a lot.
Our conversations are, quite often, entirely ridiculous. This post is one of them. Word for word, it is a transcript of a real conversation. Honest. Nothing was changed except our names and fixing a few typos. Drat & Blast, the blog, is long gone now, but the posts remain. Enjoy.
Drat: I fucking hate onion.
Blast: I loooooove onion. Ima eat a raw onion and then breathe all up in yer face.
Drat: Raw onion is just about the worst possible food on Earth. Except maybe dill pickles.
Blast: That’s crazy talk.
Drat: At least onion doesn’t spread its weed juice all over proper food like pickles do. Not only are pickles and onion both disgusting, but somehow, everyone who serves me food automagically includes them on my plate, thereby infecting my proper food with vile odors and flavors.
Blast: Define proper food.
Drat: Proper food being whatever onions and/or pickles come on. A cheeseburger, for instance.
Blast: A cheeseburger requires onion. Most non-retarded diners recognize this.
Drat: No way, no fucking how. Get that vile, smelly, goddamn weed off my fucking plate.
Blast: Firstly, it’s a root…
Blast: Secondly, it’s the awesome.
Drat: It smells and it’s…
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