Let Get Flicked

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What is a Fuzzball?


  • One question I hear more than any other is What's a Fuzzball??" Allow me to explain:

    A Fuzzball is a 30-year-old fallen debutante who lives in Houston, TX with a bossy dog and an even bossier parrot who she SWEARS is the reincarnation of Napoleon Bonaparte.

    A Fuzzball prefers animals to most people, because people can really suck sometimes.

    A Fuzzball loves music, ALL music ALL of the time. If she's not listening to it, then she's singing it.

    A Fuzzball has a mad love for all things British, especially their actors.

    A Fuzzball is blissfully happy in a bookstore, preferably one with good music playing in the background. If you look under a Fuzzball's bed you'll usually find an entire library of books that she has dropped there after falling asleep reading.

    Fuzzballs are usually incurable romantics, ridiculously optimistic, and bent on making the world a happier place.

    Your typical Fuzzball will probably have a completely bizarre sense of humor. Just go with it, it will take you to funny places.

    You should also be aware that Fuzzballs are giant nerds. Seriously. Science fiction, computers, the whole shebang.

    Fuzzballs are also budding photographers. They love looking at the world through a lens and finding new ways to be creative.

    Oh...and you can also look for a Fuzzball in one of the best movies ever made. ;)

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Comments

sister

seriously, post the sheedy story. hahahaha

Tracy

Courtesy of Sheedy:

The fart machine actually belonged to Bowie I think--it was a remote controlled Radio Shack make and it had like 4 or 5 different fart sounds, although only one actually sounded like a real fart. I worked at Wehner at the time and I had access to every room in the building 24/7. One night while closing up I decided that stashing the machine under a seat in room 118 would be a great idea--I had most of my classes in that room and I thought it would be entertaining to set it off in class.

One of the best side stories to this story is that I left it under this one seat for about a week and I would set it off via remote whenever I walked by the room while I was working in the building and class was in session. There is no telling how many farts went off in there during quiet class time.

Anyways, the first time I went to class with the fart machine installed I was very anxious to set it off--I couldn't wait to see the looks on people's faces once the farts started rolling out. I stashed the machine three rows down from where I normally sat in every class. I was keyed on the fart chair before class to see who would be the unlucky Aggie to sit in it. There were two bystanders sitting on either side of the fart chair when class started and I thought we were set. Then, to my initial delight, this girl comes in and sits right in the fart chair and I'm thinking, "Awesome, full speed ahead". Unfortunately, my excitement was immediately dispelled when I realized this girl only had ONE FREAKING ARM! That's right, a one armed girl sat directly in the fart machine chair. I know some of you know the girl I am talking about. She had a twin sister with two arms and I would see one on campus one day and the other the next--at first I just thought it was a nice prosthesis. I didn't have the heart to set that thing off while she was sitting in chair. The fart machine chair experiment would have to wait.

Fast forward another class period. Daigle, Bowie, Libby Ginsbach, and John Calendar join me on the back row for New Product Management. They are all aware of the fart machine planted just 8 feet away. The prof hands out a quiz and silence falls over the room. I reach into my pocket and grasp the fart remote. I know there is only one good fart sound in that machine and I have a 1 in 5 chance of hitting it on the first try. I collect myself and check my composure; the last thing I want is to bust out laughing at the initial sound of the fart because that would look very suspicious. I wait for a particularly quite moment and then I unleash the fart. BAM! Awkward looks immediately befall the faces of those around the machine, but I'm still not sure many around them even realized what the sound was. I wait another 30 seconds..."BBBBLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPP!" This is the fart that really gets me. The laughter begins to boil within me like volcano. All five of us on the back row have the same look of painful constipation on our faces in an attempt to keep from laughing out loud in class. My eyes well with tears and I can barely catch my breath. My stomach is sore from the powerful gut-laugh contractions in my abdomen. The poor victims begin to look around, glancing first at their neighbors, then behind them, and then sheepishly back down at their papers. It was pure genius and I controlled it all at my finger tips.

Noise on the back row begins to cause a bit of a stir in that section of the class. Classmates stare at us like we are crazy but they just don't realize the hilarity of the situation. It is now 5 minutes into the quiz and I haven't even read the first question yet. Bowie looks at me with a pained stare of disbelief--it's like he was laughing so hard but he did not want me to set it off again for fear that we would all explode and give ourselves up. I think I remember "shushing" coming from Libby, like she didn't want me to hit it again. I contemplated the consequences for about ten seconds...then complete silence...and "BBBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!"

If you were there you would have thought the back row was being tortured somehow by remote. The same looks of confusion surfaced on my classmates at ground zero--it may have been because one of them actually had a mustache, I don't know. The same strained breathing and epileptic movements emanated from the back row. After the third bomb it seriously took about 3 or 4 minutes for us all to calm down. My body was tired from fighting the laughter--I felt like I had just run 10 miles. I chose not to set it off again. Before I knew it, the quiz was over and I literally had not answered one question on it. I turned it in after jotted down a bunch of BS and made my out of class. It was glorious.

SuzanH

That is a hilarious story.

Also, Houston has TUNNELS? That is just wrong. Sick and wrong.

Calina

hi was up

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