I would suggest that this is still infinitely less disturbing than the possibility of someone in Detroit having a live octopus in their pants, ziploc or no ziploc. Yet this is the mental picture I am now stuck with. Curse you, mrissa!
Um, the dead octopuses spontaneously generate in JLA due to all of the combined superfandom of the superfans in Hockey Town.
There you go. You just think really hard about it, and at the right moment, you'll have a dead octopus in your hands.
Yes, and the red light we saw in the sky on the way home from my great-aunt's house on Christmas Eve when I was 5 was Rudolph's nose.
It's because you used to have to win 8 times to with the Cup.
I believe there are guides online as to exactly how to sneak the octopus into the Joe (I know I read a guide in the Freep years ago). I believe it involves plastic wrap and duct tape and an abdomen. Hopefully not a really hairy one.
Oh, I love my team.
If anybody I didn't know ever, ever, ever made me witness his buddy ripping duct tape off his abdomen in order to get a plastic wrapped dead octopus off of there in order that he could fling it past me at the ice, there would be no roundness of o Minnesotan enough to cover the amount of sorry he would feel the need to say to me.
But I'm glad you love your team.
If you are worried about the potential of an undead octopus, avoid Tom Holt's BLONDE BOMBSHELL . . .
Until today I was entirely ignorant of this Detroit perversion. Gosh, to think I have lived four decades in ignorance. Gosh, to think that I could have lived four more, likewise. Mourn my loss.
It may, or may not, strike some as an interesting coincidence that I was just today admiring a cow-orker-s efforts in making a tentacular scarf
But really, if Detroit fans had to throw something with eight legs, couldn't it just be four chickens, instead?
I am now contemplating under what circumstances I would say, "A dead octopus in your pants? Couldn't you just have four dead chickens tied together in your pants instead?"
Oh, dear heaven, the continued giggling, it hurts us, precious. Laughter is good for the soul, but somewhat painful to broken ribses.
I haven't been keeping up on FB, if in fact it is on FB. You broke your ribs? Don't do that, it hurts. (I know, thank God I was here.)
Down here, it's catfish. Not that it's often called for. I suppose you could slide one up your sleeve, for true convenience in extraction. They may fling a bit better than the cephalopods.
Thus leading to the common refrain: Is that a catfish up your sleeve, or are you just happy to see me?
Fortunately, your birthday is coming up.
Octopuses can come in really small sizes (at least the dead ones at Whole Foods)--I can see putting several in your pocket, though if no bag was involved, you might not want to wear those pants again.
And I'm glad for the explanation--I thought octopuses were a soccer phenomenon...but that one was live (and large).
I'd be even more concerned if live ones were involved.
It apparently falls to me to note that "Boston Garden" - when we are discussing the place where people gather to see various arena-type events - is always singular. Actually these days it is Some Bank Whose Name We Can't Remember Garden, but everyone still calls it Boston Garden (actually, Bastan Gahden, but let's not be picky). But it is never plural, no no no no.
I had not previously considered the question of how the Red Wings fans get the dead cephalopods (notice how cleverly I avoided the long-burning flamewar about the proper plural of "octopus," there?) into the arena. I do not know that I should be thankful to Timprov for opening this avenue of thought in my mind.
I am oddly heartened to know that you are not bothering with Some Bank.
An octopus could probably be concealed in top hats, rasta caps, especially large berets...
I'm deeply disturbed on behalf of the octopus/octopi/octopodes, because they are by and large bright and sweet-natured things that twitch the very tips of their tentacles when they dream like puppies dreaming of running.
On the other hand, I really, really love this transcribed conversation.
Why did / does Vernor need to see a live lobster? I can't remember if the Scripps-Birch Aquarium has them, but there and Sea World would be good local-to-him starting points.
There was a bit of unfortunate description.