Put out an AmberBock Alert!!!

MISSING PERSON

Missing Since: December 20, 2006
Name: Liquid Courage

Height: 6'0"

Weight: 190

Hair: very short blonde (due to fire mishap)

Eyes: blue and often bloodshot

Last Seen Wearing: jeans, white t-shirt, hunting cap & water wings

Could Be In The Company Of:

&

If you have any knowledge of his whereabouts, please email whereislc@yahoo.com.

If found, he needs his "medication". And probably some hot wings.

Retreat!

Ah, “Retreat!” Mofo’s backup battle cry. But that’s not what I’m talking bout this time. I’m talking bout an actual retreat.

Me, the Slut, PI, the Rev, and SK all went camping for the Regional Superhero Retreat & Workshop that was held last weekend. Mofo couldn’t make it this year cause of his being on his little whirlwind tour of the country, where he’s probably still stuck about 4 and a ½ hours outside of town. Again.

So this Retreat, think of it as like one of those Jamboree things that Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts do. Everybody meets up with their troop, I mean team; sets up tents that are strategically placed between the bathrooms and fire pits; starts drinking and mingling; and frequently gettin’ it on with some fellow superheroes from other teams. Hmmm… I guess you could also say that it’s kinda like Woodstock too.

But there’s classes and games and whatnot too, and I don’t think that Woodstock had those. Well, at least the classes. So Jamboree wins out.

Anyhoo, we went and got all set up and did the first day/night festivities (some of us did more than others), and the next day and a half we spent goin to some of the classes. Lemme pull out the agender and tell you what we all went to:

-Black Power!: Diversity in the workplace
-There’s More Than Mapquest?: The best way to get to your emergencies
-Superhero Brutality: What we should learn from the King Rodney incident
-Somebody’s gonna lose a super-powered eye!: Safety first
-Rage Against the Dying of the Light, but Not Against Your Teammates: Channel your inner rage
-Balloon Animals- Not as Phallic as You Think: Learn to use balloon animals for community service projects!
-It Burns When I Pee: a counseling session for those who’ve slept with The Slut

And there were some others, but those were some of the best.

We had a blast that weekend, pretty much like every time we all go to the Retreat. And we all can’t wait to go back next year. Next year isn’t camping though, they decided to spice it up a bit and have it in the mountains. Good, ‘cause I love me some snow bunnies. The girls I mean, not the actual bunnies. ‘Cause that’d be wrong and gross.

If you get the chance to go to Retreat next year, I highly recommend it. It’ll really jazz you up about fightin crime. So much so that you’ll be spending most of your time back on the street bustin bad guys and not rememberin to blog. Which is good, because the super criminals always tend to go into overdrive when all the super heroes in the region go away for the weekend. It takes a while to get things under control.

Hasta la bye bye.

LC

I need to put a trackin device on that little guy

Anybody seen Bongo? You know Bongo. He’s about yea high, this wide, black and brown with a little silver, and cute little red eyes. You know… Bongo?

I haven’t seen my little buddy in like 2 weeks and I’m starting to get worried about him. He’s probably lonely and scared. And his daddy misses him something aweful.

So, if any of you guys out there in Interwebland see him, let me know.


LC

Legal Beagle

Legal Beagle’s my new attorney. AND he’s an actual Beagle. I swears.

I had to get a new one after my old attorney, Ira Lowenstein, skipped town on his own bail with his new secretary Macey.

Anyways, I had to find a new lawyer after the cops broke up my friendly neighborhood underground superhero fight club, and threatened to arrest me for unlawful somethingoranother. Whiles I was letting my fingers do the walking in the ol’ Yellow Pages, I came across his ad. It said something about digging though garbage and sniffing out the truth or something. It was his picture of him holding a gavel in his mouth that sold me. Soooo cute.

The whole cute thing is just an act though. He’s really super-duper smart, I mean like super genius smart, and is really really serious. And he took my case pro boner because he really has a red rocket on for the cops who always call him “McGruff”. Hee hee.. it is kinda funny though. Don’t tell him I said that.

So it looks like I’m in good hands, er paws, with Legal Beagle. He says they have no case because I made everyone sign waivers and there’s nothing in the city coordinates about having fight clubs. But he says just to be safe I need to shut it all down.

Damn. Just when I was having a good, makin’ money hobby. Guess I’ll go back to either my arts n crafts or my pictures of the homeless people of the ‘Boro.

Heh heh heh… “McGruff”.

LC

Welcome (back) to Rumble Dome-o-sphere!

So I managed to get rid of all those shirts I made in preparation for whoopin’ Doofus McJerky’s arse. And I also managed to make some extra money, friends and a whole new hobby all at the same time.

I let people fight each other! Actually, I let people pay me to let them fight each other in the Rumble Dome-o-sphere and then let people watch them. It’s not as sleazy as it sounds. Well…lookin’ back at it now, I guess it kinda is.

And I know what you’re thinkin, you’re thinkin that I’m tryin to be like that Underground Superhero Fight Club or whatever the hell it was I was involved in back a few months ago. Well, nuh uh. Not me. These fights are just between guys who need to blow off a little steam with each other, and the people watching are their friends. So noone’s gettin all abducted and forced to fight like in all those cool, I mean disturbing, movies that you get to see on Showtime every now and then. It’s all on the up and ups.

I mean, I have the space; the free time; refereeing skills; and I can always use the cash… so why the Hell not?

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a waiver to hammer out that protects my behind and a contract to negotiate between Julio Ice-glacier-ous and his teammate Inflate-a-Bill.

LC

That wiley, Irish bastard!

Frickin’ Dinky McGhee. I don’t know how in the hell he did it, but he managed to escape my brilliant trap to beat the ever-lovin-Lucky Charms outta him.

I left a trail of Guinessess for him leading to the, what I have now taken to calling, The Rumble Dome-o-sphere. I was waiting in said Rumble Dome-o-sphere with my 2 handles of empty Beam. I remember waiting for what seemed like ages until I couldn’t wait any longer and had to go get some Taco Bell.

So I left and got some delicious Double Decker tacos, Cheesy Gordita Crunches and beef & bean burritos. Man that was some good slightly Mexican food.

But no Drinky McGhee. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Just like the number of successful robberies that Stupid O’Stupid has pulled off. Well, I don’t know that for sure, but that’s the word on the street anyways.

So I now I have ta come up with a new plan to catch that potatoe humping douche all over again. Which is really a shame, cause I had some t-shirts made up that said “2 guys enter, one of ‘em leaves…” on the front and “Welcome to Rumble Dome-o-sphere!” on the back. They really kick ass. Now I guess I have to unload ‘em on the Ebay like Mofo had to do for his “The Masked Mofo: Superhero of the Year” shirts that he made before 2002’s Superhero of the Year banquet where he didn’t win Superhero of the Year. I got my shirt for $2.50. It gave me a rash.

LC

Brilliant!

Stupid, Irish son of a bitch!

No, not Bono. Well, not this time anyways. Don’t even get me started on him. I still owe him big time for that time in Belfast.

This time I mean a different stupid, Irish son of a bitch: Drinky McGhee.

He’s gone and pissed me off for the last time. Go and sully my good name all over town (and probably out of it too) will you? I’m gonna give you the beating of a potatoe eatin’, sister kissin’ lifetime. That’s what I’m gonna do!

First I gotta find him, then BAM! Right in the ol’ potatoe sack.

I have Batman-style devised the bestest plan ever to catch that red-headed retard too. And I can tell you guys and not worry about him finding out, because I know full well that Seamus O’Jackoff can’t read above a 1st grade level.

I’m gonna just line up some Guinness in a row all ET/Reeses Pieces style, and then have him walk into a room where I’ll be waiting after having drinked 2 handles of Beam. Oooh, I should probably make sure that those beers aren’t full when he gets ‘em. No wait, screw that! I want him “powered up” (bastard can’t even get an original power). I want to be able to say that I whipped his pale white and freckled ass while he was at full strength.

After I’ve beaten the Rueben sandwich out of him, I’ll take him over to the Police Station and throw him in the drunk tank. Then he’ll have to answer for all the crap he’s been pulling.

Now to go and set my brilliant plan into Action Jackson.

LC