ASK HAT (SAT): Who do we have to screw to get a drink around here?

OK, so this week the guest Hyperion is Me (Schro from Schrodinger's
Kitten). Since Tracy Lynn and I are buds, we decided to go out for a few
drinks and answer the questions. This is the transcript of the tape
recording we made at the bar. It may be a bit shorter than the average
column, but what can I say, we were a bit preoccupied. And if anyone
has any tylenol, send it over. Please, I'm begging you. Tylenol.

Dear Ask HAT,

Is Tracy Lynn real or just a super cool computer?

Signed,
Hoping For A Fembot


Schro: 42. Oh wait, that wasn't the question. I think she's
definitely got some sort of deep blue thing going on. I hear she
plays a lot of chess in her spare time. And thermonuclear war.

But...I have seen her riding around on the back of a motorcycle with
Andrew McCarthy, so that might give you a clue as to her true makeup.


Tracy Lynn: Ok, first of all, I do not play chess. Ever. Literally
hundreds of people have tried to teach me, only to give up in utter
failure and disgust.
Thermonuclear war, on the other hand, was my major.
As to whether or not I am a fembot, well, I COULD tell you, but then
I'd have to kill you. It's up to you, really. I'm ok either way.
And dude, sweet Kim Cattrall/ Mannequin reference! Well done!

Schro: Would you like to play a game? TL, we need to teach a class on
how to rule the world, you think? Because really, chess is a game for
people with inferiority complexes that don't have the balls to play
with real people. We will get your Napoleon ass, dear reader, off
the couch and declare war on Thailand. They would welcome the confusion.

Dude, any McCarthy reference is a good reference.


Tracy Lynn: Yeah, but we don't have inferiority complexes. We ROCK!
And so I suggest that we also declare war on Switzerland, those smug
fondue eating bastards.

Schro: Switzerland it is. Ricola-whores, all of them.

Tracy Lynn: Yeah, I hate that crap. NEXT QUESTION!


Dear Ask HAT,


What's on your bedroom floor?

Signed,
Curious


Tracy Lynn: What the hell kind of pervy question is that? That's just
creepy, man. Schro, why would anyone want to know what's on my
bedroom floor, for crissakes?

Schro: The audacity! The rudeness! They must have heard about that
dead body. Either that, or they're hoping you're going to tell them
something extremely pervy, like a massive collection of crude rude
sex toys. Not that it's what's on my bedroom floor. ahem.

Tracy Lynn: You know, Schro, that's the kind of thing that makes me
mad. Because everybody knows that you need to keep your sex toys in a
DRAWER. DUH.
Besides, we moved the body last week. Now it's just clothes and shit.
Oh, and Kato under the bed.

Schro: Who the hell keeps toys in the drawer? You're asking for trouble
since that's the first place people look when they come to your
house! You need to put them under your bed in a box. A leather box.

Then again, maybe it's only my freaky friends that look for toys
before they bother opening the medicine cabinet. Just hope the lights
don't go out, and your mother in law finds a big white chunky taper
candle, which isn't a candle.


Tracy Lynn: Dude, did you not just hear me say that Kato is under the
bed?! How big a bed do you think I have? And what kind of friend looks
for sex toys? THAT is freaky. In fact, I don't think I'd even want to know.
And what kind of mother in law is lurking in your bedroom?


Schro: Sure, sure...Kato is code for 'sex swing'. Give it up.

You know, a nice girl would let her mother in law stay in the bedroom
while you sleep on the couch. No wonder you're single.

Tracy Lynn: Dude, no kidding. And Kato is the cat, you pervert.

You know, I'm not even missing the asshattery of Hyperion.

Schro: Asshat! Asshat! George Washington Rule! Are we done? Thank god.

Tracy Lynn:You betcha! Who do we have to screw to get more drinks over here?
And some chips and salsa! We like chips and salsa.



And with that, dear readers, we shall end this weeks column, as
neither of us can clearly recall our undoubtedly excellent adventures
after this point, due to the crappiness of the batteries in the
recorder, the cuteness of the waiter and the potency of the beverages.
I seem to remember the chips and salsa being pretty right on, as well.
Anyway, we shall return next week, full of vim and vigour and quite
possibly tylenol. Keep those questions coming, because we definitely
have answers. If only we could remember where we put them.