Useless Thread MMI: Plushie Diplomacy Appreciation Thread

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Matilda Ekh had a perfect first quarter going 5-for-5 from the field, helping the Hokies get out to a double-digit lead that would be enough of a cushion down the stretch as Tech earned its sixth ACC victory of the season Sunday afternoon. Ekh finished with 23 points, Carleigh Wenzel scored 21 and two other Hokies, Carys Baker (14) and Rose Micheaux (13), were also in double figures for the homestanding Hokies.



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Lasagna HQ: The Malaysian Expansion

By some twisted miracle, we made it to Malaysia without being arrested for international cruise ship theft.

The moment we docked, Brenda was on a mission.

“I need a headquarters,” she declared, storming off into Kuala Lumpur like a woman possessed.

Brenda Buys a Building

Somehow—I still don’t understand how—Brenda found a high-rise building for sale within hours.

“This,” she announced, gesturing to a crumbling, graffiti-covered structure, “is the future home of the Lasagna Empire.”

Hargrave stared at the very obviously condemned building.

“It’s a death trap,” he said.

“Nah, mate. Just needs a bit of a spit shine.”

Juan, ever the visionary, squinted up at the broken windows. “Can we put a giant plushie on the roof?”

Brenda clapped him on the back. “You’re thinking big, mate. I like it.”

The Purchase

Within an hour, Brenda had somehow convinced a local businessman to sell her the property for an undisclosed sum.

“We don’t even have money!” I hissed at her.

She winked. “Didn’t say I paid in cash.”

I didn’t ask. I really, really didn’t want to know.

The Plushie-Lasagna Master Plan

Brenda gathered us around a dirty plastic table outside a noodle shop and laid out her grand plan.

“We make this place the Plushie-Lasagna Megacenter of Southeast Asia.”

Hargrave sighed heavily. “Why does that phrase even exist?”

“We’ll have plushie stores on the lower floors, lasagna restaurants on the upper floors, and—” she grinned wildly “—a penthouse for our corporate office.”

Juan threw his hands in the air. “Plushie Paradise!”

I rubbed my temples. “Do you even have a business license?”

Brenda waved me off. “We’ll sort that later.”

Hargrave sat back. “I give this two weeks before the Malaysian government shuts you down.”

Brenda smirked. “Two weeks? Mate, this is gonna last a lifetime.”

And with that, Brenda’s Lasagna Empire had its headquarters.

For now.
 
The next morning, Brenda barged into our rented room, slamming a makeshift blueprint down on the table.

“Alright, mates, listen up,” she declared, waving a half-eaten slice of lasagna like a baton. “Phase One of the Lasagna-Plushie Megacenter begins now.”

Hargrave, half-asleep, groaned. “Oh good. Another nightmare.”

Renovation Chaos

With zero permits and no skilled labor, Juan and Brenda took matters into their own hands.

Juan tried to paint the outside of the building but kept falling off the ladder. Eventually, he just dropped the bucket off the roof, coating a passing businessman in neon orange paint.

Brenda hired local teenagers to clear out the building in exchange for free lasagna—which Juan was cooking in a trash can in the alley.

“I think this is illegal,” I muttered to Hargrave.

“This?” he scoffed. “Try everything they’ve ever done.

The Malaysian Authorities Get Involved

By Day Three, the Malaysian government noticed.

An official-looking man in a suit showed up with a clipboard. “You do not have a business permit,” he informed Brenda.

She flashed her biggest, most insincere smile. “That’s an optional step, mate.”

The official blinked. “No. No, it’s not.”

Brenda patted his shoulder. “Well, that’s just your opinion.”

Brenda’s New Catchphrase

At that moment, Juan burst out of the building, covered in plaster dust, holding a giant plush orangutan.

“We need more plushies!” he yelled. “This is just a baby empire, Brenda!”

Brenda threw an arm around Juan. “That’s right, mate. This is just a cheeky little banger of a global takeover!”

I groaned. “Please don’t make that a catchphrase.”

Too late.

The Plushie-Heist Escape Plan

By the end of the week, our building was condemned (again), our lasagna stand had been shut down for health code violations, and Interpol might have been involved.

It was time to leave.

“We’re not done here,” Brenda growled as we fled through Kuala Lumpur’s crowded streets. “Malaysia just wasn’t ready for us.”

“So what now?” I asked.

Brenda grinned. “We take this banger of a global takeover to the next level.”

Hargrave sighed. “I regret my entire career.”

And with that, we boarded a plane to our next disaster.
 

Plushie-Lasagna Diplomacy in India

After barely escaping Malaysia with Interpol breathing down our necks, Brenda had one goal in mind: expanding into India.

A billion potential customers!” she shouted over the airplane’s intercom. (She wasn’t supposed to have access to it.) “Lasagna and plushies for everyone!”

Juan, stuffing his face with airplane peanuts, nodded. “I hear they love cricket. Maybe we can sell plushie crickets.”

I groaned. “That’s not—never mind.”

Hargrave, now permanently exhausted, simply muttered, “I hope the plane crashes.”

The Taj Mahal Incident

Landing in Delhi, Brenda wasted no time. She set up a rickety folding table directly outside the Taj Mahal, proudly displaying plushies shaped like the famous monument. Each one came with a tiny compartment for storing lasagna.

Tourists were both horrified and intrigued.

A guide walked by, eyes widening in disgust. “You cannot do this here.”

Brenda ignored him. “You, sir, look like you need some Taj-a-lasagna™!”

Juan, meanwhile, had completely misunderstood India’s culture. He ran through the crowd holding a plush cow, shouting, “Sacred plushies! Get your sacred plushies!”

I whispered to Hargrave, “We’re getting arrested, aren’t we?”

He nodded.

The Bollywood Disaster

Brenda’s next big idea? Breaking into Bollywood.

She somehow snuck onto a movie set, interrupting a dramatic romance scene by hurling lasagna samples at the actors.

The director was furious. “Who is this woman?!”

Brenda bowed theatrically. “I am the future of Bollywood cuisine, mate!”

Security dragged us out immediately.

Juan pouted. “I wanted to dance in a big musical number.”

Brenda dusted herself off. “Onward, then. We’re going international, baby.”

I sighed. “We’re already international.”

She ignored me. “Pack your bags, boys! We’re heading to Russia—AGAIN!”

Hargrave facepalmed. “This is my actual hell.”

And so, against all reason, we boarded a plane to Moscow.
 

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