| Hey, there dudes! Or, uh, dudettes. Or whatever? You've reached the voicemail of me! Michelangelo! Mikey! ... You just haven't reached me personally, and that kind of sucks, doesn't it?
But dudes, not to worry! I kind of know how to actually work this thing, so if you leave me your name and number and stuff, I'll totally call you back! | comments: 4 party dudes or Party on!   |
| Michelangelo scratched his head and looked at his small collection of stuff.
Ah, stuff.
There was his skateboard, and his Cowabunga Carl head, and his prized pizza pan and-
Well. That was about it. Turtles traveled light. The semester had ended, and he was getting homesick without his brothers and someone had to be there to keep the peace between Donnie and Raph while Leo was away, right? Totally.
So, Mikey was leaving. Today. There was another cattle train headed up from the mainland to New York, so he could totally chill out with the bovines for a few hours, and then? Then, it was home sweet home.
Where he'd be far more careful not to lodge more appliances in the television screen ever again.
[And this is it for Mikey, dudes! Super-slowplay if you want to say good bye, as I work and all, and otherwise, this is the green one's farewell post. It's been radical!] | | comments: 10 party dudes or Party on! |
| Whoever said that a turtle couldn't do the electric slide had clearly never seen Michelangelo in his element.
Step step step! Clap!
Whoever said that Michelangelo wasn't capable of dancing had clearly never seen him groove to the tunes, adding in his own moves for good measure.
Step kick step! Clap! Step kick kick- SMASH.
Whoever said that Michelangeo was coordinated enough to dance without causing mass chaos had clearly never seen him attempt doing so before.
Michelangelo stared at the television set, his mouth agape, as it was now more of a 'lamp-o-vision,' really.
...
"MICHELANGELO!!!"
And so, once again, Mikey found himself hiding on a cattle train bound for Fandom.
"Bummer."
"Moo."
[[NFI, NFB, OOC is love, Mikey's coming baaaaaaaack, yay!]] | | comments: 4 party dudes or Party on! |
| Revelling in his recovered bipedal abilities and rather pleased to get back to his own dorm room to wallow gleefully in his own mess (mostly his own mess, if he had a hat, he'd tip it to the messmaking prowess of his roomie), Michelangelo did a few laps, jumped up and down a few times, pretended to tidy for a bit, put on his assorted accessories again, ordered himself a pizza, and fed Jude's fish, Fish.
He then occupied himself playing videogames.
Something roared from somewhere outside.
"Dude, for a snowboarding game, this thing has some wild sound effects."
(OOC: You Know You Roleplay Too Much When... you pay for internet time while waiting for a movie at the mall. Door is closed, but if you aren't afraid to brave the mess, the post is most certainly open (My Mall-Time expires in 40 minutes though!)) | | comments: 8 party dudes or Party on! |
| When Mikey had gone to sleep in his bed on Sunday night, he had been, of course, a turtle.
But when he had woken up on Monday morning, he was a turtle, tangled up in an orange mask that was too long to wear as a wee turtle belt, let alone a mask, and was marveling at how smooshy the ground was, here. He'd take a step, and squish into the pillow. It was rather remarkable, really.
After a bit of effort, Mikey the turtle had managed to find his way free from the big squishy thing and he was now scoot-scooting his way across the squishy bedsheet terrain to freed-
No, wait, he had just scoot-scooted off of the bed. And now he was tangled in that masky-belt and on his shell, wiggling his wee little turtle legs in the air. What an interesting morning!
Were he more aware of the state of the room, he'd have been really grateful that he had shoveled some of his stuff away from his bed last night to locate pizza, and he was relatively out in the open where people could see him.
(OOC: And with that, I'm done with FH for a few weeks on vacation. Valentine is in limbo, Lumiere is nuts, and Mikey is now a weetiny turtle. Modding rights have been sorted out around the crowd and will encompass the roomie, his girlie, and the brother-units. However it works out, go nuts- I'm outta here!) | | comments: Party on! |
| Michelangelo was sleeping this morning. Honest.
He had his covers pulled up over his head, and he was totally making a point to fake snore and everything right up until Rikku left the room.
After all, what kind of dude would he be if, after the generous bestowings of pizza that he had recieved to stay out of the hair of the two lovebirds, he went and did something like make weirded-out 'eeeeeeeew dude' noises on their anniversary?
So, Michelangelo?
Totally asleep.
(For the roomie! Or whoever.) | | comments: 43 party dudes or Party on! |
| Mikey was in the dorms. The dorms were shiny. They had indoor plumbing and hallways and actual doors and windows and all kinds of things that one didn't have in a sewer.
Naturally, Mikey was thrilled.
"DUDE! It's a DOORKNOB! Dude, it's beautiful and it is mine and I love it so much and now I'm gonna go into my room!"
He wasn't trying to butter it up, of course. He hadn't been paying attention to the announcement earlier. He was just that excited to have a room in a building that was not a cabin or a sewer.
"And it's a room!"
He stepped inside, looked at the mess, and blinked.
"And it's already set up post-apocalypse style in preparation of my arrival!"
This was Mikey clearing a place on the floor with one foot, setting down his skateboard and his giant foamy turtle head, shutting the door, and attempting to find his bed.
(Open- mostly for slowplay, as I'm headed for work in an hour and a half.) | | comments: 19 party dudes or Party on! |
| Michelangelo was feeling content and lazy, and decided that this morning would be a good time to write a linkdroppy letter to Splinter. As you do. After all, since Leo stopped writing home, it would probably be best that someone at least check in with their rat-dude father.
~~~~
( Dear Splinter, )
~~~~
Mikey then proceeded to fold the letter and tuck it under his pillow for safekeeping, and wiggled about on his bed, attempting to work on brilliant plans for pizza-creation on a campfire that would not culminate in the creation of the world's most zesty Frisbee.
(OOC: Linkdroppy like WHOA. Open for interaction, if you're okay with super, super, SUPER slowplay, as I'm planning on sleeping, and then working, and then heading down to visit family for a while.) | | comments: Party on! |
| There was mooing. And straw. And more mooing. And that unmistakable smell of manure. And the loud clickety-clack of a train rumbling over tracks on a lazy late-spring day.
And, somewhere amongst that mooing, and that straw, and that clickety-clacking sound, stowed away stealthily on a lazy late-spring day, there were turtles. Turtles of the ninja variety. Turtles who were in so much trouble, indeed.
( How much trouble? )
(OOC: Preplayed with ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) turtle_techie and turtle_toughguy. No interaction possible, but OOC comments are totally awesome, dudes! And props go to Donnie, who coded this post, too!) | | comments: 1 party dude or Party on! |
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chipper