Eight Foot Robot

Tonight, Jim finally admitted why he avoids me by attending only the summer conventions he knows I won't be at:

"I've been meaning to tell you that I think of you every time I hear 'Domo Arrigato, Mister Roboto.' I'll go one further: I also think of you when I see Penne Rigate (the pasta). This is because seeing it makes me sing, 'do-mo arr-ee-GAHT-o pen-NAY ree-GAHT-ay.'"

Ha! Further evidence that my Humian powers of association cannot be overcome by more meatles.