Lip Spaghetti

"Aw man, I think I might start having to shave every day. And I still can't grow a real mustache."

"It's ok, you will learn."

"How do you grow a mustache?"

"Step 1: knead dough until firm. Or just push really hard."

"Eurrrrgh!" *Foop* "It worked!"

Antibacterial Handpasta

"So I was thinking about awkward today. Turns out it's all in the legs. If someone complimented your shirt, you'd think 'oh, okay.' If they complimented your pants, you'd wonder... It's like, if someone said, 'You have nice hands,' it would be fine. But it would be weird to say, 'I like your knees...'"

"I dunno--I wouldn't be entirely comfortable with people complimenting my hands. What would you say? 'Thanks. I brush regularly.'?"

"Handpaste. Gross."

"Nosepaste!"

"Just be careful not to use anti-cavity paste."

"It filled in my nostrils!"

Gun Belt

"My belt picks up the slacks."

"My suspenders pick up slacks."

"Servants pick up my slacks."

"But who would pick up their slacks?"

"It would be a never-ending conga line."

"And the end of civilization as we know it. Everyone would have their hands full just trying to keep their pants up."

"Y'know, belts don't really pick up slacks. They really just hold them up."

"This is it, slacks, I'm holding you up--open up your drawers and give me all your cash."

Sleepwalkin'

The High Gazebo is back! After a month and a half of dealing shrewdly with fish on a barge in Alaska, we are back in one piece, missing a grand total of no limbs. While there, Staab developed several talents, sleepwalking among them. What follows is a dramatization.

One night I was asleep, as I should be, and I suddenly woke my roommates with a bang on the wall, and a "let me out!" I was dreaming that I was asleep inside an empty box designed to hold a thousand pounds of fish (we called them "totes"), like those we used on the production floor. With no warning, I jumped off my top bunk, tore the sheets off my bed and threw them onto Jon, who was sleeping below me. Then I started rummaging through the stuff on the bookshelf, finally picking up an ipod. I said, "What the heck?" And Stephen, behind me asked me groggily, "Staab, what are you doing?" I replied, "Stephen, you're in here too?" It was then I realized I was completely out of my mind.

A couple days later, I again jumped down from my bed, with no warning, turned to Jon, and, pointing at the bookshelf asked him,
"Who's working here?"
"What?"
"Who's putting fish here?"
"Oh, that's me."
"Um... there's no one putting fish here."
"Oh. Yeah, sorry."
"Ugh. What? Me and my stupid hallucinations. I'm going to bed."
And I went to bed.

One night, George was lying in his bunk, reading, and I sat straight up and told him,
"George! This is the wrong tote!"
He decided to mess with me, so he said,
"No Jon. It's the right tote."
I looked at him disgustedly and said,
"No, it's the WRONG tote...ugh. I'm going to bed."

Finally, the day before we left the barge, I sat up in bed and started calmly arranging my sheets sideways to hang off my bed. Stephen asked,
"Staab, what are you doing?"
"I'm putting my sheets sideways so I can cut them in half with the forklift."
"Wouldn't scissors be easier?"
"No... do you have some?"
"No."
A little later, I told him,
"Hey! I just made shoes out of fish!"
"Staab, you can't make shoes out of fish."
"Yes you can Stephen. You just strap two fish together, and them put them on your feet."
At one point, I referenced something I termed the "pile of Steve." He justly took issue with this as being completely nonsensical, but I thought I was coherent, so I looked at him impatiently, and said, "It's metonymy."


Anyway, it was something I'd never done before and I thought it was hilarious to hear the crazy stories about things I'd said after I woke up. So I thought I'd share it with you.