Pizza Can Be So Misleading

In more ways than one.

And yes, Sandee, you are seeing Seymour actually ladling tomato sauce atop a pizza in progress, courtesy of another of his hosts, Lynn Abbott.

"Unlike in Skunk's kitchen, this one turned out GOOD!  PHFFFFFT!"

With Lynn supervising, I'm sure it did.  But we digress.

Scamstress Falicia Mogab thought to spring upon one of my characters a very old, tired scam template, one involving her dying without child, and having money in the bank that she wanted my character to access (via her crooked bannister) for widows and orphans.

To quote Seymour, PHFFFFFFFFFT!!

"You didn't do it right".

Meh.

Anyway, that was her scam.  It deserved an edit.  It literally cried out for one.  For reasons not even Seymour can explain, pizza became a central theme in that edit:


Doughnation from  Mrs. Falicia Mogab
Bishop To Knight Level 3[38 rue des martyrs cocody
Abidjan, Ivory Coast.
faliciamogab@yahoo.co.jp

Dearest one in pizza crust,

I am from  Kuwait. I went out for a pizza.  Now I'm in Ivory Coast.  To say that my GPS sucks is the understatement of the millennium.  When I left for the pizza, I was married to Mr. Mark  Mogab , who worked with Kuwait embassy in Liechtenstein for nine years before he died waiting on me to return with the pizza.  We were married for eleven years without a child. He was a eunuch in the Kuwaiti Embassy in Liechtenstein and here I am in Ivory Coast.  How DNC is this?  Apparently only Wikileaks and the Russians know.

Before his death from starvation, he became a bored again Muslim atheist. Since his death I decided to remarry and give my new spouse the pizza, if he can knock me up to get a child outside my matrimonial home which the atheist korant is for before it was against before it was ambivalent and decided that more cowbell was the answer when compared to a Coke bottle vs a goat baphomet dildo. You followed that, right?

Currently, I am here in Ivory Coast, waiting for the pizza.  There's no one here that knows what a pizza is.  There was an Italian family here on holiday, but they were killed when the ox cart they were riding in was stomped by an elephant listening to an ipad.  Why is that allowed?  To make matters more surreal, recently my doctor told me that I have serious sickness which is a dietary aversion to pizza problem. What disturbs me most is how my genital part is hanging at my knees and army ants are trying to have at it.  Knowing my condition I sent out ships to all corners of the Earth.  On board were the Twelve:  the twat waffle, the douche canoe, the corrupt genital that lost the White House, her spouse with the addiction to intern genital humidors, the CA botoxed former speaker of the horse, cnn, and the other so-called geeawds of legends, though geeawds they were in their own atrophied minds. 

After all is said and done -- which regarding the pizza is very in doubt just now -- I has decided to donate this pizza to church or those who utilize this dough the way I was planning to before all this really stupid sh*t happened here. 
 
The atheist korant doesn't really say anything about this other than some gibberish in Farsi about camel sex and cous cous.  I took this decision on the pizza because I do not have any much more time to wait on this gawddamned thing and my husband relatives are not here; they're in Kaliforlornia applying for welfare.   I do not want a situation where this pizza will be used in an unspeakable manner, assuming it ever gets made. That's why I'm taking this decision. I'm not afraid of burritos, but I'm less likely to get one here.

I do not need a telephone communication in this regard because there is no f**king way this will make one lick of sense. In God all things are possible, except when it comes to getting a pizza ordered here in Ivory Coast. As soon as I get an answer I will give you contact of the restaurant here in Abidjan.  Maybe you can get them to understand what a pizza is. My happiness is that with you taking over this order, I don't have to put up with this sh*t anymore and I can try to find my way back home to Kuwait, Liechtenstein or that damned welfare office in Fresno.

Reply "me" and if you're among the first 100 people to do so, no one here will have any idea what you're talking about.  Hope to get an answer other than "me".
 
Send me the following information, as per below.

Your full name ..........
Address ...........
Age ...............
occupation ........
Photo ...............

Type of Pizza ................
 
Still touched by an anvil which explains many things.
Yours in pizza crust,
Sister Falicia Mogab.  

 

The scammer was probably too nonplused to know what it means to be nonplused; she just knowd that after reading the above, a reply was probably going as far as her pizza was.  

The Hunt For Porkyman Whoa

My pet rock, Seymour, apparently misunderstands the Pokémon phenom.

He swears that people are using a phone app to hunt down porkymen.

Whoa.

If I didn't know any better, I'd think that my pet rock is taking a shot at me.

Pet rock *TOING*

I do believe Seymour IS dissing me.

Especially when Seymour showed me pictures of the 'porkymans' that he'd collected as part of the game:

Porky, yes...man...*BUZZZER*

...getting closer...

...yeah, I'd call that a porkyman...

...Seymour found hisself a whole bar of porkymans...

...most certainly a porkyman with a moron in the background...

...looks a bit more like a porkyhun...

...or a punkinman...'n spouse...

...then this looks like a hokeyone...

"I didn't put that there!!!  PHFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I think Seymour thinks I just ruined his game with that one.  Probably did.

A Peek Into The Life Of Seymour In Pictures

Seymour and his former gal pal, Jane, on the beach in Japan

A few posts back, I mentioned that I had photos to back up some of the claims that I'd made on my pet rock's travelling behalf.

I'm dipping into the archives to share a few (aka, it's a slow post week).

"PHHFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT!!!"

In case you hadn't gathered it, that was Seymour's way of responding to my 'aka'.

Anyway...the first photo in the series here is Seymour and his Iowa-growd (and filched from) gal pal, Jane.  They are on the beach outside of the Moooo! Bar on Shiraishi Island, in the Inland Sea, south of Kyushu.  They were hosted there in summer of 2007 by fellow blogger and writer Amy Chavez, aka "Cow Lady".

Yes, she is the covert "Cow Lady" who rescued Seymour from, er..."domestic difficulties" in Ohio, shortly after his tenure in Japan ended.  He returned, sans Jane.

Yes, I told you I had a photo of the "Cow Lady".  Ain't she udderly adorable?

From there, Seymour went to Texas, where -- I say it again -- he married a wind chime.  Yes, he did.  Granted, it was at the insistence of his hostess there, Monica Newton McCawley.

Yes, that's Windy and Seymour, just before the wedding ceremony that brought them back as a couple. 

And here is the 'wedding' ceremony, Texas-style:

Which went okay, I guess...until the honeymooning couple were off to North Carolina, meeting two more of my good blogging friends, Mayden and Pixie:

This is Seymour, thoroughly enjoying meeting Pixie.

However, during the visit, Seymour partook of a Halloween party with a table decoration named "Skull", which Windy was not amused by.

Here Seymour meets 'Skull', apparently while Windy fumes off-camera. 

Anyway, when it was time for Seymour's next jaunt -- to Virginia -- to spend time with the talented writer/artist Janine, Windy did not accompany him.  Too bad, too:  Seymour got the full cultural treatment in Virginia.

He got to see historical sites in Washington, DC.

Seymour learned the art of making pizza (which he rather inconveniently forgot when he got back here).

Seymour became rather bookish there, learning much about his own heritage.

Seymour learned a thing or two about painting...which he thankfully didn't try to take up here.

And Seymour cracked a little 'bubbly' for New Years Eve, 2011.  Which might explain a later escapade in '13, but I digress...

Meantime, Windy decided to pull the plug on her and Seymour when he returned from Virginia, so she went back to Texas, while he decided a trip closer to home was due.  So Seymour went triathaloning with my older sister in Aurora, CO, and then was off to Loveland, to meet my other sister's equestrian triad...

Seymour gets an impromptu ride on Lena, while...

Mara looks on and Renny clowns with Seymour...

And Seymour even winds up getting photoshopped...he wanted to keep the moustache, claiming it made him a "geologic stud".

At present, Seymour is in Califorlornia, hosted by yet another blogging friend, Sandee.  Though, I must say, Seymour's behavior has been a bit...uh...disconcerting.  However, when he's good...

He's seeing double at the Encinal Yacht Club...

Or donning a life vest before yachting off the Califorlornia coast.  Not a bad life for a pet rock.

See...told you I had pictures.  You thought I was making all this up, huh?  I even have Seymour and his pals here reading one of Monica's published friend's books (Paula Bruno):

Or fare from my home state of Iowa...

Seymour and his pet rock sidekick, Element (a gift for Seymour from his North Carolina friend for life, Mayden) love looking at the pictures of Iowa's four seasons and rural Americana.  He'd also like to go visit Devil's Backbone State Park, just to see if it really looks like the Devil's backbone.  Having climbed around on it as a kid, I can assure him it is...especially at my middle-aged status now.

So...next up for Seymour (assuming he doesn't get arrested again before he comes home in May)...a trip to rural Arkansas.

Perhaps he'll bring peace betwixt the Hatfields and McCoys.

Or target practice.

"PHFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTT!!!"

He Knows If You've Been Bad...

I just knowd I'd saved this card for more than 20 years, for a reason.

As some of you may know, I let my pet rock, Seymour, take on a scammer that sent an offer to his email address. Vic(toria) Seaman, an alleged Darfur refugee, whose assasinated Pa had, afore he wuz kilt, put away $6.5 million USD for Vic(toria) in a Swiss bank for her. BUT -- don't you just hate the "BUT" when it crops into something that sounds too good to be true -- it was set up so that Vic(toria) Seaman couldn't access the cash without first enlisting the help of a foreigner "of good repute".

And that was where Seymour came in, of quartz...*ducking boos and throwd geodes*.

Granite *ducking agin*, Seymour's kinda new at this kinda thing. And they threw a full ensemble at him: Vic(toria) Seaman, refugee; Rev. John Leeds, Darfur refugee camp manager; Ms. Patty Cakes (really), Swiss banker; Dumu Iroko, bannister-at-law, Senegal; and later, Carmi Bebo, bannister-at-law, Senegal. But with a wee bit of my help now and then, Seymour managed to confuse the snarf out of Vic(toria) Seaman; get cursed by Rev. Leeds; piss off Ms Cakes; and get Iroko fired, resulting in Carmi Bebo being retained as legal counsel.

The emails are long and tortured, and Seymour's in enough trouble with his wind chime spouse, Windy, who doesn't know how scambaits work, and saw that Vic(toria) was referring to Seymour as her "future huband". More on that anuddah time.

At any rate, I'm not transcribing the whole scambait herein, especially since it's still ongoing; it'd take too long and be too tedious, between the moments of pure mirth. BUT -- do you sense a theme here? -- I did want to let you know, as well as Seymour, who's gonna get blamed for it, what I dun.

Since the second bannister gave me an address...and I had this Xmas card that I've held onto for over 20 years...well...*TOING*...even if the address given ain't legit...well...I printed a copy of it, and overseas airmailed it to Bebo. On behalf of all of them.

Yeah, I know: odds are, none of them will ever see it. Yeah, I know: I just wasted a few bucks (less than $4) to do that. Yeah, I know: it ain't Xmas time quite yet.

BUT -- you hadda know that was coming -- I just couldn't resist.

And best of all? They'll all think it came from Seymour.

"Did NOT!"

BUT they won't know that. Granite *ducking agin*, Santa will; BUT if anyone rates as 'bad' in his book....well....y'know. They'd all be wise to cover their chimneys, iffen they got 'em, a month and a half from now.