And then I would throw my head back and fake laugh and then the A-team would crash through the restaurant window because I've always wanted that to happen during a fancy dinner because I tire quickly of hearing about all my legal issues and can't they work out a simple restraining order without me? They're polar bears, and I don't want them anywhere near me. Case closed. Your witness. Sheesh...if only I had studied Arctic Maritime Carnivore Law like Dad had wanted.
Anyway(s), the A-team would crash in and Hannibal would be all "I love it when a plan comes together." and I'd be all "Fuck yeah, George Peppard!" and then he'd be all "Kid. You got a funny blog." and I'd be all "Thanks. You made me think I could shoot things to solve problems as a child and that no matter how many bullets came out of a gun no one would ever get hurt, and then I shot my cousin in the face with an air rifle because he was using all the blue Lego© and he definitely got hit so that was a valuable lesson. Thank you." and then he would wink because he's so bad-ass, and then Mr. T would be pitying the fool and Dirk Benedict, which is such a porn name I can't even stand it, would say something slimy and oil-covered and then Murdoch would be OFF THE HOOK wacky! because that's how crazy people are, not scary and sad like you thought and then we'd all laugh HAHAHAHAAHAHA! That was the best dinner ever.
But I forgot the idea. So you get this instead. Sorry.