ƒnƒCƒ‰ƒCƒg‚Í"as the poor baby cried out for dear life"

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How I met your mother ƒV[ƒYƒ“9yŒ´‘čzBedtime Stories

Marshall and Marvin were taking the bus on their way to Long Island to meet up with us.

There, there, little Marvin. Let no more tears fall. We're gonna see Mommy in no time at all. Hello there. I'm sorry for all of the noise. It's been a long day for the Eriksen boys.

Uh... what's with the rhyming?

I'm glad that you ask. To get my son sleeping is no easy task.

A few weeks ago, the job fell to my wife. And as the poor baby cried out for dear life, she read every book, but all were no use until she arrived at a mother named Goose.

for dear life •KŽ€‚É

Why, Marvin...

She noted.

...these rhymes make you tired!

And ever since then, all young Marvin's required is one book of rhymes, and to dream land he goes. Now, what shall we read? Oh, crap, I left his book in the car!

That blows.

Oh, no, what a bummer! What craptastic luck! Without Marvin's rhyme book, this ride's gonna suck! Does anyone here have some poetry maybe? Or any advice?

bummer ‚Ş‚Á‚Š‚股‚é craptastic ”j‰ó“I‚Č

Yeah! Don't have a baby!

I guess if I don't want young Marvin to wake up, the rhymes will just have to be ones that I make up. I'll whip up some poetry in seconds flat! Oh, I know! This story's called Mosby at the Bat!

whip up Žč‘‚­ě‚é craptastic ”j‰ó“I‚Č

The outlook wasn't brilliant for poor Ted's romantic life. He was deep into his thirties, and yet, still he had no wife. But then, one day whilst grading papers, life sent him a whammy. A physics prof named Lisa who'd just moved here from Miami.

Professor?

She asked timidly.

timidly ‚ą‚킲‚í

Call me Ted.

Oh. I don't want to bother you.

Please, have a seat.

He said.

I'm fairly new to teaching, and I'm looking for advice. Every night I practice giving lectures, sometimes twice. But when I teach magnetic force, I just see eyeballs glazing. I asked around, and people say your lectures are amazing. Which is really saying something, because, architecture? Yawn.

And Ted thought...

Psh, yeah, 'cause physics is so interesting.

Go on.

It's just that you're so skilled, and I'm a relative beginner. If it isn't too much trouble, can I take you out to dinner? I'd love to get some pointers, and I shouldn't keep you late. What do you say?

What do I say?

Teddy Westside's got a date!

Hooray! We cheered.

Ted's off the bench!

Our boy's back in the game!

Thank God, it's been a hundred years since Mosby scored a dame.

The last time he saw boobies was the screen-test scene in Fame.

The last girl he dated, I think Righty was her name.

Hold it. Let's not all go crazy like some wild berzerkers. What if this is just a business meal between co-workers?

Ted thought back on past failed dates.

Oh, God, that could be true. How many times have I come home to find my balls are blue?

It all depends where Ted and his new fetching young Floridian are standing in relation to that puzzling meridian called. The International Date Line. That's right, new theory. What's that, you ask?

Nobody did.

I'll now address your query! The date line is the border betwixt happiness and sorrow. On this side, you go home tonight. On this side, home tomorrow.

And then, as Barney made some gestures that were rather rude, Ted left to go meet Lisa, in a rather puzzled mood. Was this a date? He simply couldn't tell how he was faring. Then Lisa showed up. Ted rejoiced to see what she was wearing. For girls at business dinners don't have necklines that revealing! But then a friendly handshake gave poor Ted a sinking feeling. And so, the night wore on. And back and forth, the globe rotated. But still, Ted's curiosity was never fully sated. How long could this continue? He was truly fortune's pawn. Then Lisa saw the TV.

Hey, the Yankees game is on!

Of baseball...

Ted observed...

...you seem to have some firsthand knowledge.

To which the lady shrugged and said...

shrug Œ¨‚đ‚ˇ‚­‚ß‚é

I played softball in college.

Now the age-old softball stereotype's just that, and nothing more.

Yeah!

But as the Yankees got a run, Ted feared he wouldn't score. For while the date side of the line's the one we all might guess he's in, there'll be no joy in Tedville if our Lisa is a...

Yes! We win!

Then Lisa took a drink and said...

This may sound kind of random, but there actually is a reason for my rabid Yankee fandom. I guess I'll just be honest here, though crazy it may seem. My first week in New York, I dated someone on the team.

random Žv‚˘•t‚Ť rabid –Ň—ó‚Č

Which player?

I'm not saying.

Please?

What are you, a reporter?

Ted's mind began to race. The waiter came to take their order. As Lisa said...

I might like the spaghetti marinara.

Poor Ted just wondered silently...

Mariano Rivera?

And as she said...

I read this place has great chicken Milano.

Alfonso Soriano?

I want something hearty. How about blackened miso cod?

hearty ƒ{ƒŠƒ…[ƒ€‚Ě‚ ‚é

Is it Joe Girardi? Holy crap, is it A-Rod?! Okay, Ted, calm down. You've got to get yourself together. Just smile, be charming, ooze charisma, talk about the weather. For this might be a date, which means there might be hanky-panky. So, dude, be cool, relax, don't even...

Just tell me which Yankee!

I'd rather not discuss this here. But then again, I'd hate... to let a silly secret ruin such a lovely date. If there's an elephant in the room, why don't we just remove it? I dated Derek Jeter. Here's a picture that'll prove it.

As Ted looked at that cell phone pic, there were two things he reckoned. This definitely was a date, but there wouldn't be a second.

reckon ‚Ý‚Č‚ˇ

See? It worked. I said some rhymes, and out my boy did conk. Now let's enjoy the ride.

conk –°‚é

Move, jackass!

Okay, I need a brand-new tale to silence Marvin's chatter.

I don't know, that last one had some sketchy subject matter. Forgive me, but before you got here, did you smoke a joint? You don't tell kids a tale that crass!

smoke a joint ƒ}ƒŠƒtƒ@ƒiƒ^ƒoƒR‚đ‚ˇ‚é crass ‰ş•i‚Č

I guess he had a point.

I know, I said some things that were, as you say, kind of questionable. The truth is, children Marvin's age aren't really that impressionable. Do you remember anything from when you were this small?

Pumpkin picking at age three is the first thing I recall. He won't remember this. I guess it's true.

It better be. Or else we'll end up paying through the nose for Marvin's therapy.

Okay, buddy, nice chat, but I think I need a break.

Great idea. After this story! Robin Takes the Cake.

Once in an East Side bakery, your debonair Aunt Robin was making other customers think, Geez, who let this slob in? She didn't care about their stares, or who was looking on. She'd just broke up with...

debonair —ç‹Vł‚ľ‚˘ slob ƒKƒTƒc‚Č

Kevin. No, Gael. Or Scooby? Don?

Now, sometimes, when it rains it pours, and sometimes, it starts snowing, for as cream filling hit her shirt...

Hey, Robin, how's it going?

'Twas Simon, her ex-boyfriend from her younger days in Canada, but now, he looked quite different...

Um... Rhyme. Uh... thinking. Uh...

I've just been handed a news flash. The word Canada is unrhymeable. It's easier to-- I don't know... get drunk and try to climb a bull. But Canada, damn it, ask any man on the planet and watch their stammerin' stamina as they clamor and cram it into the middle of a sentence for a shot at repentance, pass the problem on to all their non-rhyming descendants. I've never met anyone who could clean up after Canada. Except my Uncle Tony from the Bronx. He's a janitor.

Show-off.

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