Ten years later: The Buffy Abridged Season 3 Recap

Some may be fixed to be funnier. And some may be added in because I totally forgot to do them originally? Woops.

Buffy Abridged: S3E1, Anne

Lily: Hi, remember me?

Buffy: No.

[End]

Buffy Abridged: S3E2, Dead Man’s Party

Xander: Buffy, we’re mad at you for a bunch of reasons and we’ll never forgive you ever.

Zombies: Hi, we’re zombies.

Xander: BUFFY MY BEST FRIEND! HOW HAVE YOU BEEN SWEETHEART DARLING SUGAR PLUM

[End]

Buffy Abridged: S3E3, Faith, Hope and Trick

Buffy: I don’t like Faith. She’s like the little sister I never wanted.

Joyce: Yeah, it’s a good thing you were an only child.

Dawn: 

Buffy: 

Joyce: 

Dawn: I hate both of you.

[End]

Buffy Abridged: S3E4, Beauty and the Beasts

Buffy: Debbie, did Pete give you that black eye?

Debbie: No, I just walked into a doorknob.

Buffy: And what about those claw marks?

Debbie: It was a very sharp doorknob.

[End]

Buffy Abridged: S3E5, Homecoming

Cordelia: What the hell is a “Slayerfest?”

Buffy: I don’t know, but this mysterious TV in the middle of the woods says “press play.” Seems legit. Let’s watch and find out.

Jigsaw: Hello, Buffy. I’d like to play a game.

Buffy: Oh, motherfucker.

[End]

Buffy Abridged: S3E6, Band Candy

Joyce: Hey, Buffy! I’m feeling awfully adventurous. Why don’t you take the car out for a drive?

Buffy: Wow, mom! That’s so cool of you!

Joyce: But first can you drop me off at Giles’s house? I need to have sex with him a few times.

Buffy: WHA-..

[End]

Buffy Abridged: S3E7, Revelations

Faith: Wow, B. I’m so sorry I tried to kill your boyfriend.

Buffy: It’s totally cool.

Faith: Hey, let’s never fight again. Ever. Deal?

Buffy: Deal.

[End]

Buffy Abridged: S3E8, Lover’s Walk

Drusilla: Spike, I’m breaking up with you mostly because fairies told me that east is west and west is cheese.

Spike: What?! Bloody hell, what the bloody hell am I supposed to bloody do now? Bloody hell!

Drusilla:  Lady bugs with their wings torn off and little cupcakes made out of reindeer fur.

[This is what I hear when those two have a conversation.]

Buffy Abridged: S3E9, The Wish

Anya: I’m a vengeance demon and I will grant you any wish you desire!

Cordelia: Fine, I wish for a million wishes.

Anya: That’s… That’s not how this works.

Cordelia: Then I suppose I just wish that the only girl that could ever protect us would go away. A lot. So that I can die.

Anya: …I think that you don’t understand what wishes are for.

[End]

Season two of Buffy Abridged all in one lovely clump. Once again, some may be fixed to be funnier. 

Read More

Buffy Abridged: Season One Recap

As promised, here’s all of season one in a helpful clump. (Some may have been fixed in order to maximize the funny)

Read More

A re-vamp (peh heh heh. Get it?)

Okay guys, so here’s what’s gonna happen: I’ve once again taken the time to try and re-organize my mess of a life. Because seriously it’s super messy in here. Like, ridiculously messy. Like I tried to vacuum it but then it did that thing that vacuums do when you try and vacuum on hard wood floors. You know, when it just kind of throws all the stuff back at your legs instead of actually putting it INTO the vacuum? That’s my life. 

Because I’ve taken the time to re-evaluate my life, I’m also going to take the time to re-evaluate my blogging choices. Of which I make a lot of bad ones. And probably one of my worst blogging choices was getting rid of Buffy Abridged, because that was totally fun and I was able to be silly and it didn’t take that much time. SO I will be bringing that back asap. I’m probably going to either reblog the ones that I’ve already written daily from myself (not sure if I can do that on this blog. Or if that was correct English) or possibly set up a master post of each season. Then, once those are out of the way, I’m going to try and put one daily again. And maybe when Buffy is finished I’ll move on to some other show. God knows I’d LOVE to do “The Closer” abridged. Wait, I’m so doing that. That would give me an excuse to re-watch the entire series again. Oh fuck.

And for those of you who actually enjoyed my other blog posts and my pitiful attempt at a 365: Thank you! I’m most likely going to set up a non-tumblr blog for those posts, and will probably post links to them every so often. But I need to seriously work on my writing style and my work ethic before I commit to anything like that. Aww. Look at me being all mature and talking about work ethic. Let’s all laugh about how that will never happen.

Thank y’all for reading and see ya soon!

-Ryan C. Robert

Anonymous asked: Not only do I like your blog (haha I found it) but I also am OBSESSED with you secretly. Ok here we go.. I got this idea from a Tumblr spam I got once lol.. I think you like me too and you were always too shy to admit it :3 go to crushmatches(dõt)com (wtf it wont let me link regular) and make an account there. Then look up the profile 'gottagetme19' (me obviously) I left body pictures.. if you can guess who I am hit me up and we'll hang soon. You need a C C but its free

A not-so-open letter to The Bloggess

Prologue: Okay, I know I’ve been doing a lot of letter posts lately. And by a lot, I mean two. This being my second one. So shut up that’s not even that many. Anyway, last sunday was my birthday and, considering my birthday has a giant track record of sucking beyond belief, I decided to give myself a few birthday presents. One was me going to Boston for a week (which, by the way, that post is still coming. Eventually.) and the second one was that I was finally going to build up the courage to send my inspiration, The Bloggess, a facebook message telling her how much I appreciate what she’s done. This is that message.

“Dear Jenny, 

Okay so normally I’d be far too embarrassed/riddled with uncontrollable anxiety to ever message you with anything, but considering today’s my birthday I figured what’s the worst that could happen? And then I thought about it for a little bit and decided that you sending me syphilis flavored anthrax was probably the worst that could happen. Half because that would totally suck and half because anthrax is *so* two years ago, Jenny. *Get with the times.* 

Anyway, my birthdays usually suck beyond the telling of it (imagine world war II but if they were also killing bunnies. YEAH.) but I decided that this year I’d try and make my OWN day by messaging you. Also by giving myself sushi. Both.

The reason this is such a birthday present to me is because

1. I have huge anxiety problems. Especially when it comes to talking to people that are kind of famous. Like, one time I went to a studio party where a bunch of people were on cocaine and I got nervous because everyone was really famous (and also really coke-y) and so I went to go hide in the bathroom, but on the way over there I tripped on a fire extinguisher. And for the rest of the night the owner of the studio kept asking my friend if I was okay or if I needed to go to the hospital. I WAS THE ONLY SOBER ONE.

2. I suck at staying on topic. But I’m sure you haven’t noticed.

And 3. (this is where it gets sappy. Feel free to change the channel.) You’re probably the biggest inspiration in my life. Words can’t express how much confidence you’ve given me in my own brand of ridiculously offensive, totally-not-marketable humor. A year or so ago I would sit down to write something, sit back and say to myself “No one but me will ever think this is funny,” and then I’d erase it and write something totally boring instead. Then I found your blog. Or actually I was introduced to your blog by my brother, who you totally messaged back on facebook one time. (So if you don’t message me back, I get it. I’m just not your favorite child. WHATEVER, JENNY. Can I call you Jenny? That was a trick question, *because I’m gonna anyway.*) But after I found your blog, I gained a new sense of confidence in myself and in my writing. I don’t feel as alone when I have an anxiety attack and trip over a fire extinguisher in the hallway. I don’t feel as unfunny when I successfully convince my little sister that Dr. Seuss was severely depressed and that “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish” was written about his own suicidal thoughts. I don’t feel as stupid when I tell my friends that I sent out a resume with a picture of a xanax bottle that says “EAT ME” next to it to possible employers, and no one laughs. And most importantly I no longer doubt that there’s an audience out there that would want to listen to what I have to say. Because you’ve shown me that there is. Your audience. So I’ll be taking them from you. *Hand them over and nobody gets hurt.* 

So I guess basically my birthday present to myself right now is for me to thank you. Thank you for existing. Thank you for showing me that I’m not alone. Thank you for forcing me to laugh when all I really wanted to do was cry. Thank you for inspiring me to start and keep up with my own blog. And most importantly, thank you for always being yourself, Jenny. 

I put you above all the Amanda Palmers and Joss Whedons in my life any day of the week. 

Thank you.

-Ryan C. Robert

P.S. It sucks that you can’t italicize on facebook. That would make this entire message ten times funnier. Italics make everything funny, you can quote me on that one.”

And then, I kid you not, she responded. It was short, but it still made me incredibly, incredibly happy. Besides, I imagine that the reason she didn’t write more is because she was fending off bears with laser-beam eyes, or spleen-hungry wolverines. Or wolverine from x-men. I’m not sure which but I’m pretty sure it’s one of them. Her response:

“This. was. awesome.

Even without italics. Seriously. Best present ever.

-Jenny”

Thus making this my best birthday so far. Though there really wasn’t much competition. Oh, also on my birthday Mitch Hurwitz announced that there would be another season of Arrested Development before the movie comes out. So I think my birthday is probably going to go down in history as the best birthday that ever birthday’d. Birthday.

Ottomans and why they shouldn’t even be allowed to own any empires.

I was going to write a really insightful post, but then I started reading my friend Valerie’s blog and kind of trailed off when she started talking about the Ottoman Empire. Half because I have ADD and half because Ottoman’s have their own Empire now? Why was I not informed of this? Not that I’m subscribed to any kind of furniture-country newsletter, but I assume that this is the sort of thing the President should be sending out memos for. Or he could at least put it up as his Facebook status. Let’s go, Obama. I didn’t hire you to sit there and not update me about the progression of furniture in the game of politics. But also I didn’t vote, so I guess technically I didn’t hire you at all. So what are you doing in my office? SECURITY. Just kidding. You can stay. Why? Because you made jokes about Matt Damon being a bad actor. That’s why.

I think that Ottomans having their own empire is a horrible idea, personally. I mean, do you remember when Chairs rose up and got their own country? Me neither. Because they became too technologically advanced, used those mind-erase thingies on us from Men In Black, and then flew off to Mars because they didn’t think we were intelligent enough to share the same planet. Or at least I assume that’s what happened. I really don’t remember. Because of Chairs wielding mind-erasing devices. Do we really want that again? And what if the Ottomans discover the secret to raptor restoration? Then we’re all kinds of fucked. Like ALL kinds. Do I even need to remind you of how dangerous raptors are? Because if I do, then the answer is very. 

And what’s scarier than a bunch of velociraptors being brought back from the dead? Oh. That’s right. A bunch of velociraptors being brought back from the dead and then directed to attack us by their Ottoman overlords. That’s what. 

Anyway, the point of this post is that if you give a mouse a cookie, he’s going to want a glass of milk. And so if you give an Ottoman an empire, he’s eventually going to use his newly resurrected army of zombie-raptors to enslave the human race.

That’s just how analogies work.

-Ryan C. Robert

P.S. I plan to write all about my trip to Boston soon. I was going to do that tonight, but then I realized I pretty much forgot everything that happened already. I suspect Chairs were involved.

Raptor Awareness. Also T-Rexes are scary too.

How many raptors are too many? If you answered anything over “one” then you’re either really, really stupid, or really, really brave. Or possibly you’ve never watched Jurrasic Park. It’s definitely probably one of those three.

Did you know that raptors supposedly had feathers too? And do you know why they had them? To make them faster. Or they simply understood that feathers make any outfit look fancy. I’m really not sure which one it was. But either way, they had them. Which kind of makes them all the more terrifying. And fancy looking. Seriously those things were prepared for all KINDS of theme parties. 

There’s no real point to this post. That is, except for raptor awareness. I think everyone should be aware that raptors are a thing that happened. And if we don’t learn from our mistakes, they could happen again. So, if you’re thinking of opening up a dinosaur-flavored theme park? Don’t. I promise it won’t go as well as you planned. Like, I really promise. 

I guess mostly I wanted to promote awareness because I’m writing children’s books about dinosaurs right now. Granted, it’s called “Trannysaurus Rex and the Primordial Weave,” but still. Just because it’s using its feathers for fashion does not make it any less dangerous. Wait, do T-Rexes have feathers too? And what happens if you break up with a T-Rex? Do they become your T-Rex-Ex? That was a trick question. Because if you break up with a T-Rex, he would probably eat you. And not in the good way. Actually, he’d probably eat you either way. You know how carnivores are. Always so moody.

This has been a Monday Short. Except that it’s technically Tuesday.

So this has been a Tuesday Short.

Okay…. bye.

-Ryan C. Robert

Lemon hearts

The air was brisk and cut across his face, forming scars to match the ones he felt had always been there, just beneath the surface. Normally he detested walking. He’d never willingly run the mile. But somehow on the sidewalk this night it didn’t feel like walking. His legs were numb. Everything was numb. He was frozen from head to heart and heart to toes. He felt a gentle burn from the cold beneath his chest. He should’ve brought a sweatshirt or shoes along for the late night walk, but in the moment all he saw was a door; an exit; a way out. 

Somehow the cold hurt less than being in his building. And that’s what it was. A building. Walls with nothing inside. Furniture and lights. A fireplace and food. But no warmth, and nothing to satisfy his appetite. 

He had a theory that being barefoot wasn’t that big of a deal in the long run. The snow might burn, and the sidewalk may scratch, but it didn’t matter. He had a theory that his skin would heal quickly, as always; more snow would fall and in a few hours there’d be no sign that he’d ever even gone for this mid-winter walk. As always.

The neighborhood was barren in an extravagant way. Lights were hung quietly in their place; on several lawns hollow snowmen were built with lemons for hearts; houses with hundreds of blank figurines laid about in a desperate attempt to understand the season’s message. On any other walk these things may have fooled him. He may have looked and said, “Oh, isn’t that nice?” But not today. His eyes cut straight through the figurines, the snowmen and the lights. He saw them for what they really were: empty.

Suddenly a pang of fright slipped through his lips in the form of a small gasp as he noticed that no more than 20 feet away was a family loading up in their car. Staring, not at him, but at the ice streaming from his eyes. He quickly adopted a smile and walked on with his head held high. He could handle being numb. He could handle screaming. But there’s no pain worse than having a perfectly happy stranger wish to relieve your struggle. It’s a strong, pure gesture when one lays that solemn look in your direction. The look that screams, “The world doesn’t hurt if you can see it from my end. I’d like to share that with you.” The look that should help, but only forces more tears up from your chest. And that he could not handle.

It took a block or so for him to regain his composure and drop the act. But he did. In fact, at points he even allowed himself the sheer displeasure of looking through house windows at another family. At a family at all. And he couldn’t help but wonder: Were they truly happy? Or were they just like him? He knew the answer, and it killed him to think it. But he was right. After a while, he turned his gaze straight forward and simply walked. He knew the answer and there was no reason to contemplate it anymore. It would not change with each house. It would not change whether he smelled turkey or tears. Happiness had fled the neighborhood. Of that he was sure.

A handful of houses away he saw the frame of a girl. She seemed about his height, probably his age, wearing an unflattering gray sweatshirt that screamed sorrow down the block. She was simply walking, smile on and head held high. He looked past her, and saw a family at the house she was strutting past. Their collective looks told him all he needed to know about the true state of the girl. If he walked past her, would she hide her tears from him as well? Walking side by side, would either of them eventually break down and allow their smiles to slip away?

Without thought and without reason, his pace quickened and changed direction towards the girl. He felt that if he could catch up with her, if he could just stand beside her and cry, maybe everything would be alright. But as he reached the corner she had already moved out of sight, and his tear stained cheek dried immediately.

She was gone and he was alone. The soles of his feet began to sting, his arms began to shiver, and he started a path back to his building.