AO's One-Stop Diplomacy Shop!, Members, send us your ambassadors

Antarctic Oasis Regional Diplomatic Corps
"Pretending to like each other since 2007"

Attention, regionmates, powerful and not-so-powerful alike! Following a Top Secret Charter Nations Discussion (oooooooooo!), we elected to establish an official Regional Diplomatic Corps, to be summoned to regional headquarters when the occasion arises. In the meantime, however, if you got a nation or even just a puppet in our midst, you are welcome to appoint your ambassador to the region. Make him cute, make him funny, make him making lots of money, make him a chick, we don't care! Just provide a name, some biographical details, additional info on his/her staff, if applicable, and we'll put his/her record on file. Awards will be handed out later for Cutest Ambassador, Hottest Ambassador, Most Criminally Insane Ambassador, Most Unbelievably Underqualified Ambassador, Most Laughably Incredible Ambassador, Biggest Tits, Most Likely to Succeed, Ambassador with Whom We'd Rather Be Stranded on a Desert Island, Lifetime Achievement laurels, and of course, the ever-popular Swimsuit Competition! So what are you waiting for?! Credential some no-good bum today!

Oh, and another thing: listing vitals is good, but roleplay is better. Try to make it funny if you can, interesting if you can't. Don't put us to sleep; this is Antarctic Oasis, for God's sake!

And remember, first one to appoint an ambassador gets to be Dean!

Sincerely,
Some guy they hired
Really important-sounding but effectively insignificant title
The Indomitable Kilted Legions of Lois-Must-Die
Charter Nation of some sort

[P.S. If you do not have a nation and/or puppet in the region, please use this thread to establish relations with the region.]

This post has been edited by Kenny on Jun 15 2007, 07:02 AM

[OOC]Anyone surprised that I'm the first to respond?

Anywho, time to introduce Karmicaria's regional ambassador. /OOC

"I feel like all we've been doing is assigning ambassadors. When is it going to end?" Samara was starting to whine. It was obviously getting on Tristan's nerves.

"Well, what did you expect. You are the Foreign Affairs minister, dear. Now, this one isn't that bad. It's for the AO. We picked an ambassador months ago."

"Then why weren't they assigned?"

"Other stuff came up. More important stuff."

"What in the world could be more important?"

"Nothing. Never mind." Tristan stared at the ground. "Anyway, we have assigned Carole Higgins. She would be perfect an an ambassador to Antarctic Oasis. Just look at her measurements...er, I mean her profile." he handed yet another file to Samara, who sighed as she grabbed it.

"Yeah, she's good. Send that along with a letter or something to..." she paused looking a little confused. "Who would we send that to?"

"I'm not sure, Sammy."

"Hell! Just send it to a Kennyite and they'll, in theory, get it to the right place."

Name: Carole Higgins
Sex: Yes, I mean Female
Age: 27
Born: In Elleria City
Former jobs: Guess. No? Okay, Karmicarian Callgirl.

Now acting ambassador to Antarctic Oasis. She has no assistant or doesn't require anyone else to help her with the job.

Hobbies and interests include, partying, visiting the burlesque on occasion (for the women, not the men), seeing how many other ambassadors she can either piss off or otherwise annoy. Trying to get Dahlia's job.

This post has been edited by karmicaria on Mar 15 2007, 08:53 PM

Time for the Palentine's regional ambasador


Name: Mayumi "Cutey" Sakai
Age:26
Sex: Female
Occupation: Palentine Joshi Wrestling Woman's Champion, former Tag team partner of Co-Empress Jhessan Spaulding.(in the Palentine it does pay to know important people).
Hobbies: wrestling, riding her Harley, kareoke singing, and photography.
Goals: to continue to defend her title.

And now ours...

Name: Austin Kilarny
Age: 29
Sex: Male
Occupation: Undersecretary of UN Affairs, former Clerk of Aki Court of Common Pleas.
Hobbies: Sport, Tooling around with Computers, Hanging out, Harrassing telemarketers.
Goals: Finally establish the Antarctic HealthCareNet.
Bribery: Just giving people $5.

[OOC: Can we put some roleplay behind the announcement of your ambassadors, even if it's just a official-sounding notice from your foreign ministry? Reading the same survey over and over does get tiresome. I'll have my own before long, but unlike you I haven't thought of anybody yet. ]

The Noor Muffler Man, the Kennyite Ambassador, was bent double in the small office of Rory Relp, his translator sitting on his knee

"So, Mr Muffler Man, what is it you want to see me about"

The muffler man was silent. His 'translator' spoke

"The Muffler Man wishes to notify your government that the Kennyites wish for your nation to send an envoy to the Region of Antartic Oasis"

"I see" responded Sir Rory "Well, I'll get right on selecting a suitable person"

"Excellent" replied the translator, as he left with the Muffler Man"

Sir Rory exited his office, clasping a file, which he handed to the Permanent Under Secreaty of State for Foriegn and Regional Affairs

"Deal with this, Carstairs, I've got to see the Governor this afternoon"

The PUS picked up the folder, sat down at hiis desk, and when Sir Rory left the room, he got up, picked up the folder, marched down one of the lavish corridors and entered another office, facing a portly man leaning back in his chair writing poetry

"I say, can you think of something that rhymes with Lilly?"

"Hilly? Milly? Willy? Anyway, Sir Rory wants this sorted" he said, placing the docket on the desk.

"I can't do that, I have to meet a rather nice girl at a coffee shop in fifteen minutes!"

"Tough!" replied carstairs, and left the room

The portly man picked up the docket, walked down the hall, which, in this part of the building, was plainly furnished and entered another door

"Carstairs want's this sorted Carruthers, get on it"

"Righto" replied Carruthers, picking up the docket and immediately leaving through another door

Carruthers continued down a corridor, which was scattered with debris: spare artwork, old newspapers, obsolete documents, and more, and entered in another door, to face a man working

"I say..."

"Busy"

"Well..

"Busy!"

"Really?" repleid Carruthers, incredulously. No-one ever worked in the Foriegn and Rgional Office

"Yes"

Carruthers left the room still with the docket, strolled down the corridor, and entered to face a man with a pile of papers on his desk

"I say, Carruthers, I have just the thing for you!"

"Really?" said Carruthers, heading over to the young man

"Yes, a second hand Riley Seven, a Falcon, to be precise. Owners only looking for one hundred gunieas for her"

"Excellent! Let them know I'm interested!"

"Will do; do you want me to sort out the insurence?"

"That would be helpful. Anyway, I want you to sort this out..." replied Carruthers, shewing him the docket

"Right, I know just the chaps for this"

Fifteen minutes later, in a gable room at the top of the building, two elderly and lowly civil servents were pouring over the document. One was old, wiry and had grey hair and a large, unkempt, moustache, the other was slightly younger, but more weatherbeaten and rotund. The second man spoke

"Can't we just ignore it?"

"We can't do that, the insurance man gave it to us"

"Hmm. Well, i like this chap"

"Really, well, I preferred this bloke"

They both looked at each other, and said in unison

"Closest to the bull!" left their seats, and headed towards an old dartboard, picking up one dart each as they went. The younger man went first, with the dart hitting the board about three inches from the bull. The elder one followed, through his dart, and approached the board. His was closer.

"That's settled, we send Hubert Puddledweller"

They both re-examined the document, and wondered if they made the right choice. Or they would have done, if they cared:

"You wanted to see me, Master?"

"Yes, Vanessa. Please, come in."

"Is this about the Deathstrike thing? Because that's already completely taken care of."

"I know, Nessie. Relax. It's a completely different matter. Lady Deathstrike will have their embassy, and I'll my own interests in that arena personally from here on out. Not that you couldn't do it, but my interests are personal, and not part of your job description. No, what I wanted to speak with you about was some extra duties. It's up to you whether you'd like to take care of them yourself or if you'd like to appoint someone to take on this new position."

"Alright. I already have a great deal on my plate, but there's a few good people under me that could do an admirable job of almost any task you set them to. What's the job?"

"We need to have an ambassador to the region. I know what you're thinking, but this is slightly different from what you currently do. You take the lead in regional affairs. This ambassador will be primarily dealing with intraregional politics. Embassies, exchange programs, fluffy PR stuff like that. They will be under your direct supervision, as our Acolyte of Regional Affairs."

Vanessa ponders a moment, then snaps her fingers.

"I've got just the girl! The Oasis should love her, even though her appearance is a little......unusual. She's fairly bright, though prone to sudden hysterical parties. She has a level head, and is very friendly."

"Who do you have in mind?"

"Tatyanna Corvus."

"Isn't she the one with the...uh..."

"Yes, Master."

"Are you sure that she'll be accepted by the people-"

"Very friendly, Master. They'll love her."

"Where did you dig her up, anyways?"

"In my last year going for my Masters in Economics, I tutored her and a few others in their first year courses. She's a bright girl, so I told her to look me up after she graduated if she wanted a job. She was smart enough to remember my name and to come looking for me. She's about 25, now, and ready to prove herself to the world. The region should be a good start, I'd think."

"Very well, then. Have the necessary paperwork drafted up. I'll get our press people to work out a suitable release for it. That should be ready to go in time for the morning paper."

"Yes Master. Right away, Master."

Footsteps echoed through the hallway deep under the ice of the Imperial Enclave. Gerrit Khush Denbrough made his way past dark doors and blinking panels. He had never been down in this wing- it was off-limits.

Finally reaching the door he had been told to find, he stood, straightened his uniform, and knocked. Sliding open with a hiss, he walked into the darkened room.

For a moment, there was darkness, and his eyes struggled to adjust as the door slid closed behind him, cutting the light. Suddenly, an overhead light illuminated a figure several meters away.

"Hunt Captain Denbrough. Stand to attention." the figure said.

Denbrough snapped-to. He had been a Hunt Captain in the Imperial Marine Commandos, but that had been years ago- he worked in the Directorate of Foreign Affairs now.

"You have been given a new assignment. You are now the ambassador to the Antarctic Oasis."

Denbrough's thoughts raced. Who was this man? Why was he being given a new embassy?"

"You are wondering who I am and why you were chosen. Who I am is irrelevant- suffice to say that the Governor-General answers to me. As to the second inquiriy, you have proven to be most capable of managing an embassy. Your record in the Fleet has also shown you most capable of making tough decisions."

Denbourgh allowed himself a tight smile. Those schoolchildren on Danbus had been asking for it, flying the Imperial Flag upside-down. Good thing the commandos had been there...

"You will report in three days. Your staff will be composed of Consular Ektar, Legate-speaker Sandamkhar, and Consul-researcher Parmedial. There are many who have faith in your abilities. Do not disappoint them."

the light shut off, leaving Denbrough in the dark for another moment. Suddenly, the door behind him opened, and he walked out. As he relaxed outside, the door shut quickly, and he looked it over. He was surprised to see the words "Storage #34" in light writing- he had missed it before.

He stood there for a few seconds, then turned on his heels and walked off to assemble his team.

"Uh, Mister Ramirez?"

Pedro rolled his eyes and looked up from the papers on hi desk. "What is it, George?"

"We still need to appoint an ambassador to the region." George said.

"Do we have to?"

"Well, I...I suppose not."

Pedro shook his head. "No, we really need to. Think we can make Patrick do it?"

"Sir?"

"Patrick, George. You know. Patrick. Fitzgerald."

"Uh, sir. We've already been over this. Patrick is just a newspaper boy from Il Mezzo del Nulla." George reminded him.

"So?"

"So, he doesn't have any power in the government. I've told you that before."

"He has power if I say he does." Pedro responded petulantly.

George sighed. "If you say so, sir."

"Fine. Whatever. Who can we ship off to be our ambassador?"

George pulled out the manila envelop he'd been holding and handed to Pedro. "We've got two people in mind so far. Mikey Mao, he's from right here in Roccia Lucida and Big Bertha, uh, she's that gym teacher in Il Mezzo del Nulla."

"George! Are you INSANE!?!" Pedro shouted, leaping up from his desk.

"Sir?"

"Where's Suzanne?!"

George sighed. "I'll go get her."

George stepped out of the office, shaking his head as he went. Who in their right mind put this idiot in charge of the government? George thought as he walked down the hall to Suzanne Chambers' office.

"Miss Chambers?" George said as he knocked on the door.

"What's he doing now, George?" Suzanne asked.

"Well, first, he wanted to get Patrick to decide who our new ambassador to the region is..."

"Oh, great. He's on that again. Seriously, who is this Patrick guy, anyway?" Suzanne asked.

George shrugged as he sat down across from Suzanne. "Just some newspaper boy from Il Mezzo del Nulla. Mister Ramirez met him there during his last campaign tour."

"It amazes me that the people here keep voting for Pedro. Although, you know what all the other nations in the region keep saying about us...we are pretty clueless."

"Yes, ma'am. Anyway, Mister Ramirez wanted me to come get you."

"Okay, George, let's go sort out whatever Pedro's decided he wanted to screw up today."

Suzanne and George got up from their chairs and walked down the hall into Pedro's office.

"Suzanne! Good! Just the person I wanted to see." Pedro said. "George, where'd you put that file?"

"It's on your desk, sir." George said.

"Thanks, George. Okay, Suzanne, let's appoint an ambassador."

"Who are our candidates?" Suzanne asked.

"Uh, George? What's this file say?" Pedro asked.

"Okay, Miss Chambers, our two candidates are Mikey Mao and Big Bertha."

"Isn't Big Bertha that gym teacher in Il Mezzo del Nulla?"

George nodded.

"There is no way we're going to inflict that...woman...on the rest of the region! They'd probably all decide to either attack us or kick us out of the region." Suzanne said. "Who's the other one?"

"His name is Mikey Mao. He's an 84-year-old hot dog vendor here in Roccia Lucida." George started.

"Wait, you mean that little old guy with the hot dogs down at the 52nd Street Bridge?" Pedro asked.

"Oh him! He's such a sweet old man." Suzanne said. "Everyone will love him."

"Perfect." Pedro said. "George, bring him in and we'll talk to him."

****

"Mister Ramirez? I have Mister Mao here." George said when he walked into the office two hours later.

"Good, George. Bring him in."

"Right this way, Mister Mao." George said, escorting Mikey Mao into the office.

"Hi, Mister Mao, I'm Pedro Ramirez." Pedro said, extending his hand to Mikey.

"Heh? You'll have to speak up, sonny, I can't hear so good no more." Mikey said.

"I said: I'm Pedro Ramirez."

"'Course you are! I already knew that, Mister Ramirez."

"Oh. Well. You see, Mikey...can I call you Mikey?"

"That's my name, ain't it?"

"Uh, yeah. So, you see, we need to appoint an ambassador to the region."

"Yeah? So?"

"Well, the thing is, I'd like that ambassador to be you."

Mikey raised his eyebrows. "Sorry, did you say you want me to be an ambassador?"

"Yes."

"Wow. You must have been running low on options."

"Well, frankly, it was either you or Big Bertha."

"Mother of God!"

"Exactly."

"So, what would I have to do?"

"I'm not really sure."

"Oh. In that case, sure, why not."

"Thank you, Mikey. And congratulations, Mister Ambassador." Pedro said, shaking Mikey's hand. "George, would you escort the ambassador out, please?"

"Yes, sir."

Pedro grabbed a piece of paper from his desk and began writing:

Meanwhile, on the other side of the continent there was another clueless Chief Executive with a Spanish name discharging his duties as president -- actually, he'd already finished that part when Tehrani entered his office to find him and an attractive, shapely young woman hurriedly putting their clothes back on.

"Oh, hey, Alex," the Destructor greeted him, not the least bit startled to have one of his underlings walk in at an inopportune moment. "I was just--"

"I didn't ask," Tehrani said impatiently. "You don't have to say anything."

"I know, it's just that ... Jadis here is one of our commandos returning from Chechnya, and I thought she deserved a hero's welcome! Heh-heh."

"Disgusting, Mr. President. Why did you have to say anything when I already told you didn't?"

"To brag, mostly," Fernanda laughed, waving at the hot brunette as she left. "See ya, Jadis."

"My name isn't Jadis!" the woman shouted as Tehrani shut the door behind her.

"Awesome girl!" Fernanda marveled as he flopped back down into his office recliner, buttoning up his shirt. "We oughtta make her our regional ambassador!"

"Actually, that's why I'm here, Mr. President," Tehrani replied, slapping a file on his desk. "We've already found somebody."

"Screw that," the president said as he picked up the folder. "Jadis is quite talented. She does this thing--"

"Mr. President, please," the secretary begged. "I don't have time for your usual shenanigans. Our corporate backers have already signed off on this appointee, and we need your approval before we can send their name to Congress."

Fernanda opened the file. "So who's the schmuck we have in mind for this embassy?"

"Actually, sir, it's the tattooed lady at the local carnival."

The president held up the photo. "This is a man, genius."

"I wouldn't tell him that. It took three expensive sexual-discrimination lawsuits for him to land that gig."

"So we're sending a carnie to Regional Headquarters? What happened to that guy with the Ph.D. in political science whose name you guys were floating?"

Tehrani pointed to the ambassador's photo. "This is the guy with a Ph.D. in political science, sir."

"Really? And what about the circus contortionist?"

"He is a circus contortionist, Mr. President."

"Eww!" Fernanda threw the open file across the desk and leaned back in his chair. "Fine. He'll do. Whatever. Tell this ..." (he glanced down at the file) "... Lenny Beteta ... to start packing. And to stay the hell away from me."

"Will do, Mr. President."

"Good. Now get out of the way. My 4:00 is here."

"Hola!" sang a familiar voice as the office door swang open.

Tehrani whirled around to find Elizabeth Cutler-Newington, completely naked except for her KCRC sash. He turned to give Fernanda a dirty look.

"Relax, Alex. It's just a photo-op for nudist rights." He rose from his chair, growling approvingly. "Man, Elizabeth! You're lookin' more bootylicious every time I see you! Turn around! Let me see that ..."

By this time Tehrani had shut the door. Debbie sat at her usual spot just outside the president's office. She glanced at him, then sighed and shook her head as she continued typing.

"I think from now on you should schedule all his meetings with me in my office," he said to her. "I lose fewer lunches that way."

Debbie rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Mr. Tehrani," she said.

When Binwad Fogglescloff was a student, he’d really liked mornings. Waking up early – his tiny little room seemed to hold an impossible volume of sunlight – he’d lie in for hours, stretching, yawning, and turning over, drifting in and out of sleep, under no pressure to do anything. Just lying there, wrapped in comfort: it was the best. Then, about two years in, he’d discovered there were even better things to do in his bed; but at the same time, the beauty of morning had been shattered. It was all streaked make-up and embarrassed talk, and above all the desperation of trying to remember her name. He was pretty sure it began with a J…

He’d loitered in graduate school for a year, and used his renewed powers of geekiness to reclaim his mornings for a while, but then, curse his luck, he’d had to land a well-paid job and suddenly found himself spending his Sundays, when he should rightfully be puffing up his pillows and stretching from elbows to toes, quietly examining her clothes to see if any of them had her name in it. It rhymed with…was it…hmm…no…

Today had been such a morning, and it had not ended well. He still wasn’t entirely sure what name the raging monstrosity that had wreaked a hurricane-like path of destruction through his slightly-but-increasingly throbbing head was called; he was very much assured, though, that it was not Suzanna.

He sat down to breakfast glumly. That was always the worst: the beer hadn’t given him a hangover. She had. Ugh. He set the kettle on and scrabbled around for coffee – his friends thought he was weird and called him ‘Pierre’, the humour of which he completely failed to grasp, but he just liked a drink with a taste – and then went to get cereal. Cereals weren’t so common in Gruenberg ten years ago, but as with everything else the modernisation of the economy had had cultural effects, and now badly-translated cereals were easier to get than a disused plutonium warhead. Which were pretty easy to get.

He’d tried Sugar Smash!! but, though they tasted ok, the sight of the excessive exclamation marks always annoyed him, so he’d moved onto the more calmly punctuated Loopy Fun Grains. Not only were they just about edible so long as they didn’t soak in milk for longer than five seconds, you got free toys every packet. As with other non-native fads, Gruenberger firms had initially been quick to catch the general idea but sketchy on the details, and the now defunct Chocco Morning Shine brand’s ‘Scorpions Of The World’ promotion had proven one of the most disastrous in the history of marketing, but they’d improved. At the moment it was ‘Teenage Stereotypes’. So far he had three Goths, two Sluts, two Nerds and one Stoner, and this pack had yielded a new one: an Emo, with Realistic Improved Slashing Action!, according to the packaging. After fiddling with the figure for a couple of moments, he put it on the shelf next to his other collections – ‘The World’s Greatest Generals’, ‘Monsters Of The Night’, ‘Cereal Killers’, and ‘Famous Mongoloids’ – and sat down to eat his breakfast. He didn’t like reading the paper – nothing ever seemed to happen anymore – so instead he just browsed the back of the packet. Nutritional information, serving suggestion – ‘1. Put in bowl; 2. Add milk; 3. Eat’ – and safety warning: ‘may contain cereal products’. And a competition.

He read it with interest. Usually it was a free bike or CD player or something, but this time it was a Fantastic Trip Of A Lifetime! His toast popped up, and he went to get it, pouring himself another cup of coffee. He sat back down, regarded his sombre goldfish for a while, and then played with the Emo for a little while longer. He particularly liked the way its razor blade never actually touched the wrist. Finally, he sighed, grabbed a pen, and announced “Fuck it!” proudly, to his goldfish and the Emo.

Somewhere deep in the fortress like Imperial Palace the Emperor is in discussion with his closest advisors.

Sir, don't you think it is time we appointed an ambassador to the region?

Isn't that Erik's job? After all he is the foreign minister. Besides I'm still recovering from my injuries sustained during the attack.

Be serious sir, that was just a story we leaked so you could get a vacation. You are fine now. Also I thought you might be interested to know that ministry guidelines firmly establish that the regional ambassador is the head of our diplomatic corps.

So anyone I appoint would be the superior to all other ambassadors? Even our UN ambassador?

That is correct sir.

Interesting. Do you have anyone in mind?

Actually sir, I do. Take a look at her file.

Looks promising. Especially the part about her prior association with Guthrum. Making her his boss will be perfect. Consider her our new ambassador to the region, whatever salary she demands.

"Hey, anyone awake?"

Mahk Hargraw, permanently doomed to be the One Sober Guy of the Party, owing to an unfortunate allergy to barley, wheat, and all known fruits, picked his way across the mess that was the central chamber. Avoiding snoring colleagues, an upturned chair and the hyperactive cocker spaniel that had showed up the night before (no-one had claimed it, and neither would it hold still for long enough to check its collar), he limped into the bathroom. Mercifully, no-one was being sick.

"Hey Andy, is that you in there?"

A positive-sounding moan.

"Sweet. Look, man, I need your help with something."

A couple of grunts and wild gesticulations seemed to Mahk to say "Sure! I'm happy to help! Also, I am entirely sober!"

"I knew you'd be a friend. See, our region is asking me for a delegate - in fact, they have been for months - and y'know, I'm just so busy with affairs of state..."

Grunt.

"Thanks. I'll go call a taxi."

Trey hunched over his desk. He looked back and forth from Heather, his secretary, to the folders on his desk.

"We gotta send a what?" Trey looked down at his desk. He had information on the other diplomats arrayed in front of him, "What in the hell is this supposed to be, a brothel for the Kennyites? Don't they have enough?" He picked up a picture of Hubert Puddledweller, "This one doesn't even look like a woman,"

"That's not a woman, sir,"

"Well that's the Kennyite's business," he looked up at his secretary, "Who the hell should we send?"

"You know the Foreign Minister has been complaining pretty loudly about not being able to leave the country," she replied.

"If she wasn't hot, I'd have shot her a long time ago for that," He pulled out a picture of Tatyanna Corvus, "You're right though..."

"Sir?"

"This one's a woman, right?"

"Sorta sir,"

"She's got big ears,"

"You're not looking at her ears sir,"

"That's true," He pulled out a picture of Carole Higgins, "Woman?"

"Yes sir,"

"Good, I'll be keeping this one then. Send 'em Julia, I don't think it'll be a problem with them. I know it won't be a problem with her,"

"Yes sir,"

"Send her in here before she leaves though. I'm gonna see if she can't get more pictures of Ms. Higgins,"


*Sirens wail, guns fire, automobiles are on fire, people are protesting, police in riot gear fire automatic weapons into the crowds until they disperse. Two scantily clad, extremely attractive females and one man in a suit walk up to the screen and block out the violence behind them, as they do the sounds die down to nothing*

"This is the Douria Evening News, I'm Chris Morris, this is our top story,"

Chris Morris: Douria today has taken a step towards regional integration, appointing Julia Grigyan as ambassador to the Antarctic Oasis Regional Diplomatic Corp. Kimberly?

Kimberly: Apparently she's been, like, heading the foreign ministry for, like, a decade. I didn't think Trey would, like, actually appoint someone to the job that is so totally qualified. He's not, like, exactly known for... HEY! THAT'S MY TOP.

Chris Morris: Yes it was, repercussions from this are generally understood to be positive, as with all decision made for the good of the people on behalf of Douria and Christom. Julia was unavailable for comment, but it was generally understood that she was getting freaky with the emperor. Candace?

Candace: Not that hard to believe Chris. After the break we're going to do a piece on the killer penguin infestation in southern Christom, and Laura has a recipe for pumpkin pie.

Kimberly: Wait, who's Laura? HEY! THAT'S MY TOP.

*We'll be back after these important messages!*

OOC: Going to model her personality on what I know of Yulia Tymoshenko, but try to be a bit funnier with her. The real one's was a major player in the orange revolution in Ukraine and current Prime Minister of Ukraine. Also one of the hottest ladies in government anywhere in the world. Seems to fit in with some of the ambassadors so far.

OOC: Surprising that I missed this.

IC: In a society like Snefaldia's, it is hard to be so strange, eccentric, and individualistic that other people want nothing to do with you and actively wish you and all your friends harm. Truth be told, it's difficult in any society to be that weird. The question then arises: what do you do with someone like that?

The answer, of course, is to pawn them off onto other people you don't like, so that they may feel the discomfort, displeasure, and dishappines (is that even a word?) that you might feel in that person's presence, no matter how qualified, intelligent, or nice they might be.

These are, almost exactly, the same thoughts that crossed First Minister Ren Dirh's mind as he stared at the announcement, just coming across his desk now, about ambassadors to the Antarctic Oasis region, which Snefaldia has belonged to for months now. Once more he cursed the ineptness of the government, throwing in an extra curse for the jackass who had stolen his parking space this morning, and the other jackass who had overcooked his steak at dinner last night. He suspected they were the same person, but had no proof.

I will finally be rid of that awful man... he mumbled to himself, a slightly unnerving smile on his face. Never again will he bother me in the middle of the night...

He smiled to himself contentedly as he sealed the envelope and rocked back in his chair, chuckling to himself.