So here's the deal: there are frogs living outside my highrise, and they are annoying little fukkers. As soon as the warm weather shows its nose, these buggers appear out of thin air. Every damn evening, just as it gets quiet and I am finally able to concentrate on doing something productive instead of spamming BCSB all day, they start their song and dance. Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit, croak, croak, ribbit. What's worse, they refuse to respect my authorite and don't STFU when told to do so.
The plan is as follows: seeing as I'm in Port Moody, if you're feeling real "sportbiker~ish," you can go up and down Ioco to get your daily "ride fill" before the hunt and everyone else can come straight here and meet at the downstairs' Starbucks. We will surround the building at 9:30pm sharp, blend into the shadows of the night using our black power-ranger outfits and creep up to striking positions. On my command we will launch our attack, capture said bastards (dead or alive!), proceed upstrairs to my barbecue and finally answer the age-old question we've all been pondering, "do frogs really taste like chicken?"
It's for the children.