Bubbler survives the Towering Inferno! (or a kitchen fire in my hotel)

There is nothing quite like being woken up at 2:30 a.m. by a fire alarm.

My presumption was that some soulless fuck pulled the fire alarm, but there was a real live fire -- kitchen fire of some sort apparently. I'm in the hotel lobby and smoke is pouring out of some room in the building. Someone's going to get fired for this ... Omaha firemen are not pleased.

I have burns over 90 percent of my body, and yes, I saved Jack Albertson, Red Buttons and some annoying-as-fuck kid by turning a steam pump with my bare hands before falling to my death.

I'm mixing fire movie metaphors and I don't give a fuck. It's late and it's cold.

Try about 8-below-zero. Some limp dick fry cook is on my shit list right about now. On the bright side, many kittens survived the night as hotel patrons could not engage in 2:30 a.m. masturbation.

 

The march to B10K resumes. Welcome back.

 

Bubbler, I'm glad that the fire alarms worked and that you're safe. keep warm.

 

Waaaaaa...


What the fuck happened to the Bubbler I used to know? Where's the spirit? Where's the guts, huh? "Ooh, we're afraid to go outside the hotel room Bubbler, we might get in trouble." Well just kiss my ass from now on! Not me! I'm not gonna take this. Wormer, he's a dead man! Marmalard, dead! Niedermeyer...

 

FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!
Heh heh heh heh

Glad you're like, OK and stuff.

 

I'm nachos.

 

The fire was probably started by a chef whose favorite place is Wal-Mart.

Seriously, Bubs, glad to hear you're OK, if a little sleep-deprived and chilly.