In Which I Am Haunted by a Strange Little Man from the '90s and Harassed by Meatballs

This weekend, Kenny Blogginz came over for some Ninja Warrior marathonin' with Iain and me—and he brought with him a terrifying relic of days gone by, which he'd recently rescued from the home of a friend, whose sister had it tacked on her wall once upon a time (sans irony).

At first he merely teased us with glimpses of the artifact…

…and then, oh lord, it was soon becoming all too clear what he'd brought into our midst:

The hideous thing was slowly unfurled:

And then revealed in all its dubious glory:

Why, Maude, why?!

Now, I'm not saying it's definitely related, but when our dinner arrived, the Italian sausage and meatballs we'd ordered (to accompany what turned out to be three metric fucktons of spaghetti Iain and I will be eating every meal for the foreseeable future) were arranged in such a way that I was immediately in need of a fainting couch.

Actual meat.


COINCIDENCE?! I think not.

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