How to Build Your Woman a Gazebo

Imagination Station:
If you are unfamiliar with who Sterling Rambo is, then read my blog post "Chewed to Bits by Giant Man Eating Turtles"

Sterling Rambo here. You know, the manly man of epic man proportions. Epic manly proportions. Of epicness. Oh yeah, I’m big on the adjectives baby. But you know what else I’m big on, pleasing the ladies. So, I’ve decided to help you non-epically manly men with that special someone. Here’s how to build your woman a gazebo.


1) Find someone else to build a gazebo for your woman. Like a carpenter.

2) Hire that person.

3) Watch them build a gazebo for your lovely lady.

4) When your woman walks by, yell at the carpenter. Yell something manly like “I’m a man and I’m your boss, so work.”

5) After your display of dominance has gotten your woman all hot and bothered, ask her to fetch you a lemonade since you’ve been working so hard. It’s hot out. You’re hot… well, that is of course, if you’re me. Or the guy in the Old Spice commercials.

6) Before she hands you the lemonade, rip off your shirt and squirt some water on your abs. Ladies can’t resist glistening abs. I mean, look at that Edward Cullen dude.

7) Thank her for the lemonade.

8) Now that the carpenter is done making the gazebo, set up a moonlit picnic under it for you and your lady.

9) Play this song:

10) Your woman is wooed. Congrats, you manly stud muffin of man cake mix.

EXTRA! EXTRA! Teddy Roosevelt Fights Space Zombies

Imagination Station:

REANIMATED GALAXY— Uggggghhhh.

That’s what the hoard of space zombies moan as they float towards Earth. They are expected to reach Earth’s atmosphere on Jan. 15.


This was my Christmas gift from the talented Claire
Donaldson.  This was the inspiration for the story.



The ghastly droning can be heard for miles away, but it doesn’t faze former president and current zombie hunter Theodore Roosevelt. The former Rough Rider is embracing adventure and danger, taking on the role of saving humanity from space zombies.

“Get action,” Roosevelt said about killing zombies. “Seize the moment. Man was never intended to become an oyster.”

And Roosevelt is no oyster as he squeezes the trigger of his yellow Remington ESX Laser, and the beam of concentrated energy splits open a space zombie’s brain, killing him for good.

“I am not leading this fight as a matter of aesthetic pleasure,” Roosevelt said. “I am leading because someone must lead or else the fight will not be made at all.”

The space zombies draw nearer, attracted by Roosevelt’s orange jumpsuit. The moans grow louder as their jaws hang open. Bones stick out and flesh peels off of them. They smell like a full diaper that was left to bake in the humid, summer Missouri sun. One of them licks the inside of his glass helmet.

The United States, as well as the United Nations are at a standstill as to what to do. The Republicans want to blow them all up. The Democrats want to make them citizens. Neither side can seem to compromise.

At the moment, Roosevelt is the only one protecting Earth from the impending space zombie invasion, but he realizes he can’t do it alone. He is begging world leaders, especially American leaders, to get involved.

“A typical vice of American politics is the avoidance of saying anything real on real issues,” Roosevelt said. “Do what you can, with what you have, where you are. Don't hit at all if it is honorably possible to avoid hitting; but never hit soft.”

Playground Showdown

Imagination Station:

Please play the following clip while reading the story below.  It will add to your reading experience.

On the playground of Westburg Elementry School, a legendary battle took place—a battle so epic, its story has been written on the pavement in bright pink chalk. This is the story of two eight year olds, Suzy Que and Penny Bop.


“Suzy Que,” Penny Bop called across the dry asphalt. “You and I have a date with destiny.”

Suzy Que, who was drawing a sunflower, slowly looked up, giving Penny, what’s known on the playgrounds as, the stink eye. Suzy rose, clutching the canary yellow chalk in her hand.

“I suppose we do Penny Bop. This has been a long time coming,” Suzy flung the chalk towards the ground in front of her. She smacked her hands together. Faint yellow dust plumed in front of her.

Penny gritted her teeth as the rest of the school yard froze. All they could do was watch.

“Are you sure you want to do this here? Now? You know I’m quick on the draw,” Suzy drawled.

Penny whipped her chestnut bangs away from her eyes. She grabbed her long mane, securing it in a pony tail.

Suzy tugged on her blonde pig tails, making sure they were secure. This was about to get ugly. Real ugly.

Penny grinned, “Let’s do this.”

A tumble weed rolled by as Suzy and Penny stared into each other’s eye. Their fingers moving back and forth at their sides, waiting for the other to make even the slightest move.

“Yo momma so ugly, they had to tie a pork chop around her leg just so the dog would play with her,” Suzy fired first.

“Yo momma so old that when she was in school, there was no history class.”

“Yo momma so dumb she thinks a quarterback is a refund.”

“Yo momma so dumb that she tried to put M&Ms in alphabetical order.”

“Well, yo momma so short, she gotta slam-dunk her own bus fare.”

“Yo momma so poor she can’t afford to pay attention.”

Suzy let go of the chalk in her hand. It dropped to the ground in slow motion.

“Yo momma,” Suzy blurted out. “Yo momma… she wears pajamas.”

The schoolyard burst into laughter, pointing and snickering at Suzy. Penny lifted up her finger gun, blowing above the barrel.

“I suppose I’ve won,” Penny smirked.

The tumble weed rolled by again.

“I suppose.”

And Suzy walked alone, disgraced, into the sunset.