Awesomesquad Assemble! 4: Mark of the Oil Beast

Before I get started, I would like to let Chris Thorn know that he does not need to waste those precious few moments he has left in his sad, decrepit life by reading my blog. Chris, since I am giving you the option to go, I do not want to hear any shit from you about me wasting your life.  I hope you enjoy the time I am giving back to you and can only expect that you will use that time to facebook stalk me. Also, I would check my grammar, but fuck you.

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The hallway was dark, quiet, and deserted. On one end, a group of leaders of the terrorist organization known as” Murderhorn,” gathered together. They pointed their AK-47s into the black, shooting at whatever movement they hallucinate. One of the men was attempting to pick the lock and break into the room closest to them. On the other end of the hallway, around the corner, a group of badasses armed to the teeth with custom weaponry was planning their next move. A black-haired man wearing guy liner, a pair of tight fitting jeans, and a leather vest was standing up against the wall next to a woman in full body armor. She has more firepower on her than a fireworks shop owner with a score to settle. The terrorists broke through the doors and rushed in, closing the doors behind them. The terrorists left behind a group of five heavily armed thugs to buy some time.

Our two mysterious figures concealed in the dark looked to the opposing wall, where two of their team members are also concealed. The man in the front, wearing a white cloak and a camelback hydration system(product placement), turned to the man behind him and said, “Everett, you blind them, and I will run up and fuck their shit up.” he then continued to the rest of the team, “Once I have them distracted, you three will run up and engage them. They will show no mercy, so don’t expect or give any.”

He crouched down and quickly, but silently moved forward. When he was almost within sight of the group guarding the door, a small cube flew through the air, over the head of the cloaked man, and towards the thugs. They watched as the cube fell into the middle of them and exploded into a flash of blinding white light. The men stumbled around for a second or two before regaining the use of their eyes. When they did, the man in the white cloak was standing perfectly still in the center of the circle the bad guys had formed. The armed thugs pointed their fully automatic guns at the cloaked individual  and began to fire.

The cloaked man grabbed the barrel of one of the man’s guns, pulled it past him, and then grabbed onto the gun holder’s shoulder and firing hand from behind. The other thugs shot at the cloaked man, but the bullets merely hit their comrade. The cloaked man, used his human shield’s gun to shoot at the other thugs, taking out one of them. The other three members of the cloaked man’s team came forward and quickly dispatched of the remaining guards using their own style of combat. The woman using Tai Kwon Do, the man in the leather vest using magic(not the really gay magic, only the slightly gay kind), and Everett using wrist mounted flame throwers.

“OK,” Everett said with a breath of relief, “Now to get through the door.”

The man in the cloak looked to the woman and asked, “Would you mind doing the honor, Lady Caggiano?”

“Certainly,” Lady Caggiano stated as she walked up to the door. She landed one solid kick on the door knob, and the door exploded like something out of a Michael Bay movie, fire and all. The team ran through the gaping hole where the door used to be to see one terrorist, a woman in a black catsuit and wire rimmed glasses, standing guard at the door on the opposite end of the room, ready to kick some ass.

Sarah Palin?

The leader of the group took a sip from his camelback hydration system (product placement), and ran at the  woman. The woman instinctively shot at him. The bullets, although making their mark, only slowed the progress of the man in the cloak slightly. By the time he reached her, she had shot her last bullet, and was frantically attempting to reload. One swift roundhouse kick from the cloaked man knocked the gun from her hand, out of her reach and unloaded. She was basically fucked at this point.

She did a backflip or two to get away from the cloaked man, and then set herself in a defensive position (which is not a sexual position, but more of a fighting one). All the while, making those weird noises that one usually associates with a white person doing karate.

The man in the cloak strode towards her and said, “I am not afraid to hit a woman.” He then produced his pole arm that for some reason was unnoticeable until just then, and buried its blade in her stomach.

She looked at him as if he had just insulted her and said, “But I can see Russia from my house!”

The cloaked man replied, “I don’t care,” and forced the woman off of his pole arm with his foot. She fell to a crumpled and very dead heap on the floor.

His teammates walked up from behind him, Lady Caggiano glaring at him.

“What,” he asked.

“You’re not afraid to hit a woman?” Lady Caggiano snapped.

“Holyshit, that was actually Sarah Palin!” The man in the leather vest exclaimed, staring at the dead woman on the floor.

“ But I didn’t hit her,” the cloaked man pointed out, “I penetrated her with my justice stick.”

“No, seriously guys, this is actually Sarah Palin. Thunder, you killed her!” The man in the leather vest continued.

Lady Caggiano replied hotly, “First of all, I really think it is a bad idea to make domestic abuse jokes to the people who we know control the media. And secondly, that sounded so dirty.”

“Ok, you two, calm down,” Everett stated, “We need to get through these doors and apprehend these terrorists.”

“Am I the only one who finds it weird that there was just a joke, not even 400 words ago that pointed out her resemblance to Sarah Palin, and it actually turns out to be Sarah Palin? What the fuck?” the man asked.

“Shut up, Criss,” Thunder snapped, “You’re breaking the fourth wall again. I don’t care if you are magic, stop doing that, it creeps us all out. Oh, and what did I fucking say about that hair? Put your Goddamn fedora back on.”

Seriously, you look like an asshole.

Criss Angel silently obeyed, and the group moved closed in on the door. On the other side, they heard the frantic whisperings of the remaining terrorists.

“C’mon,” Thunder commanded, “We need to defeat these douchebags and save their hostage so that we can get back to base and get wasted!” Thunder then raised his fist to the air, and called out, “KAPLAH!!!”

“KAPLAH!!!” the other team members called out in unison.

They all stepped away from the door and Everett raised his fist at the door. There was the sound of a faint click, and a grappling hook shot from the reel on the back of his hand and embedded itself in the double doors. With a slight jerk back from Everett, the doors were ripped from their frame and flew over the teams heads. The door was followed by a hail of gunfire. The grappling hook released its grip from the door and Everett and the rest of the team took cover.

Thunder looked over to Criss. “You got this?” he asked in a whisper.

Criss simply nodded, sat quietly with his eyes closed for a second, and then moved to the door way. He raised both of his arms, and started walking forward. The bullets aggressively flew at him, but every single one that hit him passed through without leaving so much as a bruise. With a flick of the wrist, the bullets’ trajectories shifted, and now orbited Criss.  After moving a few feet closer to the shooters, he let both of his hands drop, and the bullet-satellites launched themselves at their former masters. The men dropped to the ground as lead-filled heaps of death. Criss turned to face his teammates, put a smirk on his face, and flicked them the devil horns.

“Oh, thank God you have arrived Awesomesquad!” a voice cried from the corner. A voice, which the entire group was disappointed to realize that belonged to a man and not an attractive brunette named Olivia Wilde. A blond man sporting a flesh colored beard and some soiled, expensive looking clothes came crawling out of a dark corner in a similar fashion to Gollum’s way of walking.

“Holy shit,” Criss cried out, “Is that Spencer Pratt?!?!”

what a douche

“Yea, I’m fucking Spencer Pratt,” the hostage snapped, “Who the fuck would I be, not the most important person on the face of the planet? Get with the game, retard.”

Lady Caggiano, whose mothering instinct suddenly kicked in, rushed over to the crawling douche-bag and asked, “Omigosh, are you OK?”

“Yea I’m fine,” Spencer replied, “They slapped me around and made me wear a dress, but other than that I’m ok”. “I am hungry though,” he continued, “Does anybody have anything to eat?” He looked at Lady Caggiano again, closer this time, and followed her form from her legs to her chest and back down again. “You got a nice set of legs on you, baby,” he added in what he thought was a seductive voice, “I wouldn’t mind chewing on them. PPPPPUUUUUURRRRRRRR!”

The look of caring melted from Lady Caggiano’s face, and she replied flatly, “Chew on this.” She raised her revolver, whom she calls “Ole Shooty Killy” and drove a bullet into Spencer’s brain. He drops back to the ground like the dead log that his personality has reflected for his entire life. “What?” She said as she looked to the rest of the group. That was not the feminist in me that did that, it was the part of me that hates Spencer Pratt, which is actually all of me.”

Thunder replied, “Hey, if we would have had the chance to kill him, we would have, so don’t sweat it.” He turned to the entire group as he continued, “See, this is why we had that catchy one-liner seminar. Good work, Lady Caggiano. Very catchy indeed.”

“Thank You, Thunder,I am pretty awesome, aren’t I?” Lady Caggiano replied. “But I think we should look around and see what these members of Murderhorn had with them,” she then suggested.

Thunder nodded, “Good idea, see if they have any cash on them. I like it.” The three men started to rummage through the pockets of the disceased, a flicker of greed in their eyes.”

“That’s not what I meant by seeing what they had with them,”  Lady Caggiano said in a mildly disgusted voice, “but since you guys seem so intent on stealing from the dead, I CALL DIBS ON SPENCER PRATT’S WALLET!!!”

This call was met by groans from the three men, but  groans quickly died and the four continued on. However, the groans resumed when Lady Caggiano pulled out $500 from the douchebag’s wallet. After several minutes, and collecting at least a thousand dollars worth of spoils, the group as a whole turned to a lone briefcase near one of the leader’s bodies. Thunder opened it, and its contents spilled to the floor. The papers, which all seemed to be important terroristy documents, shared a particular symbol on the top right corner of every page. Our group of heroes gasped unanimously, for they instantly recognized the symbol and the company it belonged to. They stared at the yellow and green symbol in amazement until the bottom of the briefcase, which Thunder was still holding, fell out, and revealed a digital clock counting down towards zero. 1:00, :59, :58…

The feeling that some serious shit was about to hit the fan dropped into Thunder’s stomach as he realized what it was. “BOMB! RUUUNNNNN!!!!”

The four teammates left the suitcase bomb and the crucial documents on the floor as the dashed out of the room and back through the other room and hallway. Thunder, who was bringing up the rear, grabbed one lone document with the symbol on it, lifted his wrist to right in front of his face, and commanded, “Jesse, get the Awesomeplane! started, and bring it around front. This place is going to blow!” :45, :44, :43…

A voice on the other end replied, “Ok, we will be waiting for you.”

The group picked up their pace, and lept over the dead bodies of all of the thugs they killed. As Thunder lept over one body, its hand reached up and attached itself to his ankle, bringing the leader crashing to the earth with an “AAARRRGGGGHHHH!”:22, :21…

His teammates stopped to help him, but Thunder cried, “Just go!”

With a slight hesitation,the group once again ran for their lives towards the exit. The man who was by all accounts not dead, climbed on top of Thunder, pinning Thunder’s hands against the floor,  pulled out his Baretta and aimed it at our hero’s head. “Prepare to die, you bloody wanker.” The man said in a British accent (duh). :15, :14…

Just as the man was about to pull the trigger, Thunder was able to free one of his hands as grabbed a hold of the gun and moved it away from his skull. Thunder pushed the British terrorist off of his person, and was back on his feat in a flash. The terrorist ran at the cloaked man while shooting like a deranged lunatic. Thunder then whipped out his Justice Stick again (all dick jokes aside, where the fuck does he hide that thing?) and stabbed the man in the heart. “Fuck you, your taxes, and your tea, you goddamn Brit,” Thunder growled as he twisted The Justice stick and pushed again, forcing the blade out of the man’s back. He then made a jerking motion  back to remove the pole arm from the once-thought-to-be-dead-but-now-actually-dead man  and once again sprinted to the exit.:05, :04…

Meanwhile, Everett, Criss, and Lady Caggiano climbed aboard the Awesomeplane! out of breath, and worried of what has become of their cloaked leader. Everett, climbed into the cockpit and called, “Minigan is still in there, we can’t leave yet!”

“I’ll give him as much time as I can, but that place is about to blow, and we have to be airborne when that happens, or else we are going to sink with the rest of this island!”

Meanwhile, back inside the building, thunder was racing towards the exit. He quickly turned the corner and saw the open door. He ran at the door, faster than even he thought was possible, while all noises were drowned out by the rushing of his blood to his brain. :02, :01, :00. He did, however, hear the explosion. Thunder sprinted harder. He feared to look back, but it didn’t matter; the the light of fireball rushing down the hallway was enough of an indication of what was behind him. He burst through the door to see the Awesomeplane! about to leave his ass behind. “What the Fuck?!?!” he cried out, still running at it.

Suddenly, the door to the aircraft opened, and his team members beckoned him in. [picture this next bit occurring in slow motion for maximum effect] Pumping his legs with all he’s got, Thunder launched himself off the edge of the concrete platform just at the said platform exploded. The shockwave from the explosion pushed Thunder enough so that he flew straight into the cabin of the Awesomeplane!. [end slow motion]

“Blamo!” Lady Caggiano exclaimed as she helped Thunder to his feet.

“It’s good to see you make it out of there  in one piece, Minigan,” Emily Kohlberg, the team psychologist, affirmed happily, “the party would have sucked tonight if we would have had to make it a vigil.”

“I’m glad to hear I didn’t ruin the party,” Thunder said jokingly, “It’s just too bad that Jimmy was so busy spending time with his girlfriend that he couldn’t join this team and be a part of this awesomeness.”

“Good work team,” a familiar voice eminated from the onboard TV.

“Thank’s Spottswoode,” Thunder said, “Sadly, we could not save the hostage.

“Who was it?” Emily asked.

Ashley replied, “Spencer Pratt.”

“Oh,” Spottswoode interjected, “So you killed him. That’s fine; I would have done the same.”

“We kind of figured that the world would be better off without him,” Thunder stated,”We did, however, learn something new about who funds Murderhorn while we were in there.” Thunder showed Emily and The camera feeding to Spottswoode the symbol on the upper right hand corner of the document he retrieved.

“Oh my God,” Spottswoode uttered, “We have a serious situation on our hands if that company is funding Murderhorn, but lets worry about that after the party.”

The entire group agreed, and proceeded on their way back to their base, making jokes about Jimmy Kohlberg all the while.

Well, see if I let you into my superhero club now, Jimmy. Fucking dick.

Outside the window, the Island that housed the Murderhorn organization sank down to the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico, probably causing more damage to the already beaten ecosystem.

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If you have not read the first three Awesomesquad blogs, you can find them: right here, over here, and way over there.

Anyway, as with my other Awesomesquad Assemble! posts, I am going to update you on our progress. First off, I would like to say that I contacted many of the people that I want in my group, but I do not know personally. Only one had replied, but his reply was a “yes” so fuck yea! The problem is that he is a public figure (kinda), so we needed to figure out how to get him completely out of the public eye. Sadly, the only possible way to do this was to ruin his name.  Seeing that this was the only option, and he was surprisingly into this whole “superhero team” idea, he agreed to go through with it. I had him cheat on his wife, get caught, and let the media have a field day. Now, you may be saying to yourself that that is counterproductive if I want him to be out of the public eye, but I disagree. I call this tactic the “John Gosslin Ditch.” What it does is makes the person who does it despicable in the eyes of the public. For a while, the couple will be featured on the cover of every shitty gossip magazine in every grocery store, but eventually the media will only focus on the victim (aka the spouse) and the person who committed it will fall into obscurity, only to be brought up in passing. So far, my man has done an excellent job at employing the John Gosslin Ditch. I would like to applaud Jesse James in his determination, and in his desire to not break Sandra Bullock’s heart by being tortured and murdered, but instead by committing adultery. Kudos to you, good sir; your ancestors would be proud.

Pictured- American Hero

Secondly, I have acquired our headquarters! Seeing as though this blog is public, It would be unwise of me to tell you the location or post a picture of it, but then again, I did just specifically state that Jesse James is in my group, so fuck it.

Tada!

There is an industrial complex near my house, and one of them is sitting there, empty and ready to be sold. Once I figure out who is going to be the rich person who funds everything, I will have him acquire it. Then, we can get under way constructing the super secret tunnel that runs from our base to my house. That will make things convenient for me if no one else. It also adds the theme of trying to protect the ones you love, but you bring them closer to the danger. If you don’t know what I am talking about, it is the reason Peter Parker bitches out of getting in MJ’s pants at the end of the first Spiderman movie

I have begun work on creating the symbol for the group. I have an idea in mind, but I still need to draw it up first. Next time I update, I hope to have some of the choices up for some type of voting process. Yay Democracy!

Next item of business: new members. I actually only have one new member this time and he is going to be my genetic engineer. I work with the man at the WS, so not only do I know that he is smart, I also know that he is a good writer and a fairly decent worker. The person I am talking about is (of course) Sean McCormick! (Sorry Bill and Terry)

He even comes with his own costume and laser gun!

Sean is unfortunately focusing his work on seaweed or some strange shit, so if he would alter our genes,  we would look something like this:

Dudes, I think that weed was bad. I'm totally tripping balls.

-which I still have not decided whether this would be a good or a bad thing. Anyway, he would need to go through some extensive training before he would be allowed to modify anyone in Awesomesquad, but I think that our heightened reflexes/ heat vision would be well worth the wait. And with Danica McKellar looking at his equations, we can be sure that his math will be done correctly. See, there IS a good reason to have a math genius on the team.

I would love to see her lowest common denominator.

I have also decided on who is going to be the boxing instructer! After careful deliberation, and after weighing the pros and the cons of each candidate, I have decided that the title goes to…

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I forget what I was talking about. Fuck. Oh yea, that’s right, the fighting coach. Yea, the person who has that spot is Damien Walters. If that name sounds familiar to you, it is because you have probably read my Awesomesquad blogs before. He is also my gymnastics instructor. If you are wondering why I would let a gymnast also teach me how to fight, you are sane. I would have never chosen him as my fight coach if it wasn’t for this picture:

That is Mr. Walters in the Kickass costume. He was a stuntman in it. But not only was he the stuntman, he was also the assistant fight coordinator for the movie. That’s badass, and it makes him worthy of the second position. I also chose him because neither my brother nor the owner of my gym has mentioned the Awesomesquad blog posts to me other than when my brother accepted the challenge. And I am pretty sure that he has forgotten all about it since then. So yea, fuck those guys. Besides, one less team member means one less paycheck and one less person that could be shot/ killed/ captured/ tortured/ go rogue. A more elite team is probably in our best interest.

So as it stands, here who is in my team so far:

Me- Leader

Ashley Caggiano- Second in Command

Damien Walters- Gymnastics/ boxing trainer

Everett Bradford- Weapons tech

Criss Angel- Magician

Derren Brown- Mind hacker

DMZ-computer hacker

Jesse James- Vehicle builder

Emily Kohlberg- Psychologist

Sean McCormick- Genetic Biologist

Danica McKellar- Math Nerd

This asian dude- Ninja/ covert ops

That’s 11 people so far, but I still need the medic and the rich person to fund everything, so I still cannot complete this group and make sure everything is up and running yet. This disturbs me because our Rouges gallery is growing with every blog post. Our latest villain is the most diabolical yet. He rose to power of a major corporation specifically to make that company bring about the end of days. His soul purpose is to destroy America. He also wants Al Gore to feel the pain of unfathomable sadness, but Hell, we all want that now and again.

The man I speak of gets his power from the tears of environmentalists and from the blood of manatees. Currently, he resides in his volcano lair off the cost of Haiti, where his earthquake machine undoubtedly caused the devastation in that country earlier this year. He enjoys destroying the environment, raising the price of oil, and going on boat rides. The man I am talking about is Tony Hayward of BP.

The son of a bitch

As of this moment, he looks like your normal, everyday, British prick. But with his current power, and his minions who work for the U.S. Government (Texas Representative Joe Barton is still sucking Hayward’s dick), Hayward is quite possibly unstoppable. I have calculated that if his power continues to go unchecked, he could morph into a monster the likes of which have never been seen. Here is my estimate of what he is going to look like this time next year if no one stops him:

God help us

That shoddy photo-shopping is accurate; he will become a sentient mud-beast with shape shifting abilities. He must be brought down. This also means that the symbol on the upper right hand corner of the papers in the briefcase was… Oh my God

For now, I am calling all of the members who have already accepted my offer to join Awesomesquad to actually assemble so that we can defeat this monster. We even have Cracked.com behind us on this one. That basically gives us the go ahead to do something.

Give peace a chance, but only after you have exhausted all of the ways you can fight a war.

Awesomesquad Assemble 3!: Attack of the Fashionista

Well, here we go again.

Wait, that isn’t the right tone for this blog. Let me try again.

JESUS-DRADLE-SPINNING CHRIST, ANOTHER AWESOMESQUAD BLOG!!!!! EVERYONE GET DRUNK AND  PARTAAAY!!!

Woo! Doug wrote another blog!!!

[clears throat] That’s better. I am particularly happy about this blog, since I haven’t updated ya’ll since September on this topic. Here is a refresher: I have decided to create my own superhero team, and I have been scouring the interwebz for suitable people. Here is my list of people so far and their job:

Me: Leader/ something I will discuss later in this blog.

Ashley Caggiano: Second in Command/ Jane of all trades

Everett Bradford: Weapons Technician

Jessie James: Mechanic/ Vehicle Builder

Criss Angel: Mindfreak. More commonly known as WITCH! BURN HIM!!

Damien Walters: Gymnastic Trainer

My brother or the owner of my gym: boxing instructor (I will update this too)

Derren Brown: Mentalist aka less cool Criss Angel

GMZ: Hacker

Emily Kohlberg: Psychologist

If you want a full description of why I picked these people, and who our  nemesises (what the fuck is the plural form of “nemesis?) are, look at the first two. they are here and here

Before I go into the updates, I would like to congratulate Lady Caggiano for being promoted to the Second in command in my team. Ashley, I would say that you owe me oral now, but that would constitute sexual harassment, and even my team cannot avoid those lawsuits. Instead, I will make the idea of oral optional. Congratulations again.

For the first update, I am going to talk about the name. If you remember, I hadn’t come up with a name for my group, so I left it up to you guys. Unfortunatly, I forgot that no one really gives a shit about me (otherwise you would post a comment) and you left me hanging. After a while, I realized that I had already come up with a pants-shittingly fantastic name for the group. Yes, the group name is “Team Anal Rape and Murder Our Enemies.” TARAMOE for short. I can hear it now, a bunch of pissed off Muslims in some shithole of a country that is in the Middle East (Originally, I thought the Middle East was a burger joint for the longest time. I just found out yesterday what it really is). They are shooting at things with no regard for human life, civility, or even ammo rationing. But suddenly, the winds pick up. A thundering roar comes down from the sky like a meteor. They begin to piss themselves with fear.

“Derka, Derka, TARAMOE derka, derka!” They cry out.

A kick ass Plane designed by Jessie James shoots two rocket powered chainsaws at the enemy’s machine gun turrets. They explode with such huge fireballs that even Michael Bay would think it’s over the top. As the Plane is hovering (yea, my plane can hover, What of it?) over the group of terrified terrorists, the bottom hatch opens up. Lady Caggiano rappels down a rope while firing off an AK-47 with one hand. She is followed by Everett Bradford, who is shooting flames out of his one hand, electricity out of his other, and wielding a sword with his other. I fall straight to the ground, about forty feet. I am wearing a cloak similar to the one in Assassin’s Creed. My brother and/ or the owner of my gym throw down my pole arm, or what I like to call “My justice stick.” I reach up and snatch it out of the air. My partially conceled face smirks ominously, and I tap a keg of whoopass on the terrorists.

like this, only 1573 times more badass

The boxing instructor, and Damien Walters repel down to the desert floor, but you shouldn’t be looking at them; you should be focused on how awesome I am being. Shit, you missed it! I just stabbed a guy with my justice stick (wow did that sound gay) it went straight through him and caught another baddie between the ribs, puncturing his right lung. I pull it out, spin it around while it makes that cool “whoosh” noise, and beat the faith out of  another guy right before I send my palm at an upwards angle towards his nose. The cartilage pierces his skull and enters his brain. He is dead before he hits the ground.

Somewhere in the background, Damien Walters is doing back flips or some strange shit.  By this point, the battle has moved away from him, so he just looks like some random dude doing flips and shit in the desert.

The last terrorists still alive run away screaming like little girly-men which is insulting to women because Lady Caggiano kicked some fucking ass during this battle. You didn’t notice because you were too focused on me.

“I scream to our fleeing enemies, “Derka, Derka Muhammad Jihad, jihad derka TARAMOE, Bitches,” which roughly translates to “ You just got fucking pwned by TARAMOE, bitches!”

We then head home for debriefing and our traditional celebratory hooker run.

Oh, and actually I lied. The name of the group is Awesomesquad; TARAMOE was my second choice.

Anyway, update #2: my position in the team.

Recently I have rediscovered a rare gift that I have. I was at a party; I was a little drunk, and we were playing “are you smarter than a fifth grader?” my team won because I answered a question before my mind could doubt myself. The question was “what happens to light  when it moves through water or glass?” I blurted out, “It moves slower.” I was fucking right. And since I am technically sober right now, I can assure you that I still doubt my answer.

This brings me to my contribution to the team. As long as I remain a little drunk, I gain amazing abilities. I don’t mean I gain confidence; I mean that I become good at things I am not normally good at. It happens all the time: darts, pool, Pictionary, Are you smarter than a fifth grader, driving. I become very talented at these things when I am half way to hammered. Now, for me to function, I will need to have alcohol with me at all times during an excursion, but I have figured out a solution to this. That solution is Tucker Max Death Mix. It is one bottle of Everclear, one quart of Gatorade, and one Redbull in a camelback hydration system.

my awesomesquad brand awesomepotion!

So for that story I just fucked your mind with, you should have seen me take sips in between fighting each terrorist.

Update #3: boxing instructor

I still haven’t picked one yet, mainly because they suck and haven’t been fighting for that spot. My brother said he would train to punch someone so hard that they threw up, but he hasn’t, and I don’t think the owner has even read any of the Awesome Squad! Posts, so he doesn’t have a fucking clue as to what’s going on.

But I still want one of them to be the boxing instructor, so I am just going to commit some heinous liable on both of them. Maybe this will get them off of their lazy asses and fight for that spot, Goddamn it.

  1. My brother is gay. I mean, really gay. I mean, the posterchild of the gay stereotype. He seriously loves some huge black dong.
  2. The owner of my gym strangles babies.
  3. My brother (who is really gay) takes shits on cop cars. He then proceeded to spread the poo all over the hood of the car-using his face.
  4. The owner of my gym buys mail order brides just to sell them into the sex slave trade.
  5. My brother (the gay) stabs homeless people with syringes filled with AIDS.
  6. The owner of my gym hates America. He pisses on the flag regularly.

If you are wondering if I am afraid that they will kick my ass when they read this, I am not, because those twunts won’t read it. And if they do, DO SOMETHING ABOUT WHAT I SAID, BITCHES. *

*please don’t kill me.

However, Misty did give me a good alternate. So now Benny “The Jet” Urquidez is in the running.

Update #4: New Members!

I know that my group is getting kind of big, but these next few people are important. I still have people that need to be added, but I don’t know who they are yet, but I’ll get to that later.  Here are the newest additions:

This dude: Ninja/ covert ops

I have no clue who this guy is.  Let’s just call him “Series of Japanese Symbols.” Hey, that’s less offensive than my original ideas “Kung Pow Chicken,” or “Engrish.” Of course, I doubt he has an extensive knowledge of breaking and entering, but I also think he is a for realsies ninja, so he probably does. And if he doesn’t I’m sure there is a website for that kind of stuff.

Danica McKellar: Mathmatician/ spy

Yes it does. Don't lie.

Everyone knows that whatever you are taught in Math classes growing up is only useful until you reach college, and then it depends on your major.  At least that’s what the Math Professors want you to think; the truth is that no one uses trigonometry in real life. But, That show Numb3rs has got me convinced that people who are Mathsy are capable of solving any crime with the magic of mathematics, and using numbers as letters. 80085. See, I just solved like fifty crimes right now, simply by spelling boobs with numbers.

And if you are wondering why I chose Danica McKellar to be in my team, it is because she is a Math genius.

I would like to convert her fractions into decimals

She as written two books about math :Math Doesn’t Suck and Kiss My Math. Both of which encourage middle school girls to learn Math.

She also coauthored a scientific paper  (dealing with some boring math shit) with a fellow student and a professor. The result of the paper is the Chase-McKellar-Winn Theorem.

If you’re wondering how a mathematician can be a spy, look at this picture.

This is Danica when she was younger. Does she look more familiar? If you ever saw an episode of The Wonder Years, she should. That’s right, Winnie from the Wonder Years is a Math genius. And a damn fine one to boot. She doesn’t do a lot of acting now, but who can blame her? She had to kiss Fred Savage in the pilot episode of The Wonder Years! That would effectively end any woman’s love for acting.The fact that she is not a lesbian now is nothing short of a miracle. Plus the fact that she kissed Fred Savage and did not run away screaming is a testament to her acting ability.

These are the remaining positions that still need to be filled:

  1. Rich person who funds everything-?????- he will need to buy the tools needed to build Everett’s weapons and Jessie’s vehicles, the abandoned warehouse that we will convert into our super-secret HQ, the gym equipment for the gymnastic area and the boxing area, and whatever magic cards, top hats, trick coins, etc. that Criss and Derren will need.
  2. Genetic biologist-?????- someone willing to manipulate the teams genes to give them heightened reflexes, heightened senses, higher running speed, and more agility and stamina.
  3. Medic- ?????- someone who can tend to our wounds. I can handle some of the minor stuff, but it would be necessary to have a professional in the team in case shit goes down.

Update #5: the Villian

I had always been suspicious of this villian, but I just thought that the person was too strange for my taste. I did not sense any evil coming from this, that is, until I saw this video.

Now this video was a little subtle, but the point it was trying to convey is that Lady Gaga has a penis. But then I saw this picture.

I see plenty of hooha, but no gaga

I think this settles the debate about If Lady Gaga is a lady, or if she has a gaga. This did invoke more questions from me, however. I did some researching, and I discovered that Lady Gaga is actually an alien that wants to enslave the Human race. I was able to aquire a picture of Lady Gaga in her true form. Brace yourselves.

Actually, this is less terrifying than what she looks like normally.

Sadly, Lady Caggiano loves Lady Gaga, so this will cause some major conflicts to arise amongst the group. But eventually good will win out, and Ashley will fight against Gaga.

Later

Awesomesquad Assemble 2: Rise of the K-Oh, Damn That’s A Fine Ass!

Can a honky get a motherfuckin WOOT?!

honky

As you can tell by my previous exclamation, I am rather excited. I got my second tattoo this weekend and it turned out better than expected. I also got to spend time with my PA friends, which only happens once every couple of planetary revolutions. Basically, it was a party. Other than two of my friends missing (including my one best friend) all of my closest friends came together almost coincidentally to the house of a kid I’ve never talked to before. A couple of my friends were going, and they invited me along.

It was at said party that I realized how not fun I am. There was a beer pong tournament going. I did not play because I had to drive myself home, and I am responsible like that. Instead, I sat near the table and watched. After a while I began to think of how disgusting that game is. The ping pong balls were on the floor more often than in the cups, and at one point, a ball landed in a shoe. To “clean it off” you dip the ball into a cup of water that one has dunked the ball into countless times before.  As I watched, all I could think about was whether or not the players washed their hands. Worse yet, I thought all of this and still wanted to play.

my friends are partiers

my friends are partiers

Ok, enough about me and how I suck at life, but still miraculously still have friends, and onto what you really wanted to read: Updates from my last blog!

I’ve added three new members, and two of them are women. Goodbye sausage fest-Hello coed mixer!

The first is Ashley Caggiano and she is my Jane of all trades. Her mastery in Tai kwon do will make the group hard to beat when we combine it with the kickboxing skills of my brother and/or the gym owner. Also, (and this is going to sound sexist) she can cook and clean. If you are offended by that reason, continue reading before you write me angry comments. I say that she can cook and clean because I’ve seen her do both. I work with her, and she is pretty much the only person that cleans the Writer’s Studio. I’m not saying that she would be the maid; I’m saying that she would teach the group to not be slobs. And as for the cooking, she makes awesome cupcakes and baked goods in general. ashleyI know that After a hard day of fighting bad guys, and  possibly losing the big baddie that we were trying to capture, it would sure lift everyone’s spirits if someone quickly whipped up a batch of fudge brownies. She also gave me a bunch of good reasons in her comment on my last blog post. This brings me to the most important reason that I am hiring her to my team: Her balls. Not only did she have the tenacity to ask to join, but she also gave many good reasons of why she should be allowed in. I need that kind of incentive and determination on my team. To anyone else who wants to join, sorry but posting a comment to persuade me to join only works once.

The Second person is someone that Miss Caggiano suggested. I looked into his credentials, and I have decided that GMZ should definitely be my hacker. It takes a maverick renegade like GMZ to turn the world on its head. I am confident that he could hack into the Dutch Mafia’s computer system and  get the information on the choco-cannibi smuggling plans, and the schematics to the bomb that will blow up the Hershey factory.

The third addition to my group of crime fighters is my friend Emily Kohlberg, who will be the team psychologist. This position does effectively destroy one of Ashley’s arguments, but its worth it. Not only will Emily keep the peace, and the mental health of the team at a healthy “sane,” she can also question the people we capture alive with Derren. While Derren uses mind manipulation his own way, Emily can use the Hannibal Lector method (IE digging into the painful memories of our detainees past to extract information.) Granted, she may not be 100% suitable for hand to hand combat. I’m not saying she’s fat; I’m saying that we don’t want our resident psychologist to be killing people. She could totally kick some ass if she wanted though.

I also have an update on the debate you have anxiously forgotten all about: who will be the boxing instructor? On Friday as I was drinking with my brother, I spoke of the blog post and the debate, and he informed me that he was certified as a boxing coach a week or so ago. I also told him of the gym owner being able to punch a man in the stomach hard enough to make the man throw up, and he said that he will learn to do that. This puts my brother ahead in this competition I didn’t even know I was going to have. If the owner of my gym wants to be in my group he’s gonna need to step it up a notch.

And finally, our second villain is Kim Kardashian’s evil twin Kim Kardassian. Kim KardassianShe is a formidable opponent because her hypnotic ass can cause a zombie like state or even fighting between the males in the group. She could even be able to hypnotize the ladies, but it will be more difficult. It will be up to the women to save the (currently unnamed squad) from the evil clutches of a perfect badonkadonk.

Peace of shit

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