Every week or so, I look back through the photos of Second Life dance performance that I’ve posted on Flickr.
Sometimes, I smile.
Sometimes, I wince.
And then there’s the times... well... you know...
I like to call this portion of our trip:
Don’t Make Me Call The Dance Police.
Well, that's one snowman who won't be running for Senate.
Santa just changed his mind. Rudolph can sit in the sleigh with Santa.
I'd like to solve the puzzle, Pat.
pssst. Web. (piano)
Yeah, I go nuts over Honeycrisp apples, too.
Dammit. Did the Russians hack the Next thermostat again?
Shipping these six Supermans via Krypton Prime.
I... I... I've got nothing. (No, this is not getting a Rule 34. Hell no.)
I really hope that's sand, because... ew.
I... okay, I just did that one. You know, one day, I'm going to make a meatloafman.
This is why my boss insists on making their own coffee.
Santa's like "Fuck this, I'm gone!"
Quit chatting and get dancing!
Um... 10101001000110110101010? Seriously? Who spell checked that?
Lynxa tends to kill her dance partners. If you can't see Lynxa's dance partner, RUN!
It's like the snowman's eyes follow you everywhere.
Okay, you and the apple have had enough of a moment. Get back to dancing.
Santa wanted a Cessna. I told him bad idea. He insisted. Oh well.
This is what Amazon Wish Lists looked like in the 19th Century.
Go home, giraffe. You're drunk.
Thanks to Global Warming, the Polar Express has been shut down. It's now a ferryboat.
Did you find that in the basement of The Alamo?
Okay, so he's a sociopathic murderer. But he's covered by my HMO.
And he referred me to this guy.
Give yourself a round of applause!
Did someone call...
The Santa Dance Police?
Thank you, and stay tuned next Sunday for the next thrilling episode.
"Hey. It's Cave. Someone's not daaaancing. Come on. You know the law - testing IS NOT a dance exemption. Don't make me call the dance police"
- Cave Johnson, Portal 2 Perpetual Testing Initiative Expansion Pack.