Happiness is found in supposedly the most unwanted place, but retrospectivly the only place it could fit.
I dreamt I was a bird sitting in an apple tree.
The sun was out and my feathers were warm.
I was resting between courting sessions when some kids snipped me off with a BB gun.
If I was a big rock singer, I’d wanna get my picture on the Cover of the Rolling Stone, but since I’m not, I’m perfectly happy playing Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show at full volume and seeing my byline come up on this sentence at Scrine.
If they’d had blogs in the 1950’s, Dagwood Bumstead’s boss, Mr. Dithers, might have given him a good swift kick in the ass for posting at work.
“The people in my district have two words for Con Ed, and they’re not ‘thank’ and ‘you.’”
Today is my birthday, and I’m forty, and all I want is to eat cake all day long until I puke.
“The sucker-punch always works,” Grams told the boys, “especially when properly delivered.”
My poppy-seed muffin is like sunshine and my one sock from lastnight warms my heart.
Her rabbitry mouth huffed for breath.
It’s a good thing I don’t have a great big pile of money, because I have no experience with big piles of money nor does anyone I know well enough to ask for advice, so if I had one I wouldn’t know how to use it and would probably do it wrong.
Birds know a lot more than you think, but cats pretty much let it all hang out.
Each morning Fru Fru came here, the coffee was delectable and she marvelled at how those ‘in the know’ had guarded the secret - the barrista milked the tree and shot the bean right before preparing each cup.
This morning when Sophie stopped by my office unannounced while I was meeting with Sophia, I chuckled, but just now when both phone lines rang exactly simultaneously with Julie on line one and Julia on line two I was Not Amused by the childish behavior of the gods.
A nightmare fever run its course, the heatwave finally broke.
“I’ve got to run like the dickens to keep from falling…wheel is humming, buzzing, cyclometer clicking out the tempo…what a floor show, rebel generalissimo, oh no say it isn’t so, I left my gland in San Francisco, once again here I go, writing songs in the undertow, Doctor Rat incognito, wearing false mustachio, what an impresario, drum shaking like a volcano, whoa you fucker, I said whoa, can’t stop it, it’s got to flow, rebel plot to overthrow, take this part pianissimo, not so fast, please, adagio, sonofabitch what vertigo, image rising from down below, intuitive signal bright rainbow, whale thinks he’s Fats Domino, if only I had a torpedo… “
A dog only has sweat glands in the nose and in the bottoms of the paws, which explains why a dog’s paws always smell like corn chips, but not why a dog’s nose smells sausages even before they’re even unwrapped.
Odd how there’s something strangely reassuring about the smell of our own stinky armpits.
If it is true that Eskimos have many words for different types of snow and Pacific Northwest Indians have many words for different types of rain, then shoudn’t it be true that in languages famous for good lovers—perhaps the Greeks or French or Italians—there should be proper words for important erogenous zone instead of the clumsy English “inner elbow” and “behind the ear?”
As inspired by: 'mouse's a case of ambrosia
Dearest most colourful and bright beautiful sparklingness Becky, you are the wind, you are the reason for our life, we watch your every movement, breathless with awe, and with each sinuous step that you take, the winds of the sky swirl hypnotically and chaotically, and we, we are swept up and are aloft, gliding through the streaming ribbons of colour that is your love.
As inspired by: skif's You know you are bored when…
After weeks spent traversing under the frighteningly bright lights of the Reality valley, the woman walked wearily through the towering stacks of words, each pile threatening to tumble down upon her, and she hoped fervently that just through mere chance she would happen upon all of the easter eggs, but she knew that it was futile because in this land, in Scrine valley, every stack contained an egg and every Scrine was lined with gold.
As inspired by: Centerfold's A case of amnesia…
Becky and her friends lay on their backs in the field watching the butterflies skywrite love letters in rainbow trails, surrounded by empty bottles, the case of ambrosia nearly finished.
A philosopher can only hold his own in a debate untill he has no thoughts on a topic…or forgot what they were.
every time that i have that option to ‘show my name in the online users list’ or not, i want to wrap myself in a flag and sing kumbaya.
As inspired by: http://elisson1.blogspot.com/2006/07/monkeyshit-metaphors.html
His metaphor-writing skills were rusty, like an iron bird statue left out in the Oregon rain.
I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity. I love electricity.
I thought you said there were three dead bears, not —what the!! the big one’s still alive!! and he’s getting up!!— and that’s when I successfully fought the grizzly bear in my dream armed with nothing but a jackknife.
I must be Bi-Polar…that would account for a lot…esspecially the bears.
“Hey there beautiful girl, don’t you change, honey, because you is beautiful the way you are,” said the homeless man as I walked to the PATH train tears hidden behind my rhinestone encrusted sunglasses; I couldn’t help smiling since it was the nicest thing I’d heard all day when he called after me, “And don’t you worry, honey, I’ll be here tomorrow to make you smile again.”
you would if you could, but even i can’t; all i know so far is that it involves red bell peppers, elephant garlic, yellow onion, cilantro, chinese five spice. and boneless pork cutlets
Tuesday, July 25, 2006: Today is the day to put in for the entire By-God month of August.
Muriel was reluctant to jump on the bandwagon by blaming the summer’s record temperatures on ‘global warming’; privately, she believed there was no climate problem that could not be made more bearable by a pitcher of ice-cold daiquiris and a very wide-brimmed hat.
On hot days, Henry would imagine himself as a knight-errant on an all-desert planet, chivalrously sweating to death inside his armor.
I went looking for my muse bright and early this morning and found the sodden bastard passed out in the hammock in the back yard, next to half a warm pitcher of lemonade and a near-empty bottle of vodka.
…you download 238 messages from one of your mailing lists and they are all about the meaning of the word “uber”….and you are tempted to read them.
Have mercy; kill me now.
The clouds felt nothing like he’d imagined, but hitting the ground a minute or so later felt exactly as he thought it would.
If all those finches at the feeder figured out how to pool their brain cells and ball themselves together, we’d have one huge winged creepy thing back there, that’s for damn sure.
To test and see if a person has a core of hardened cement, simply play the song Saving Grace from Tom Petty’s newest release, Highway Companion; signs of life include toe tapping and/or nodding of the head.
As I threw the third sweat-soaked t-shirt of the day into the laundry pile, my brain could form only one thought: Whatever the language, 39C or 103F is “hot.”
A week away from Scrine means you miss so much that you can’t even figure out where you should start.
I know there are words I haven’t used yet, but as Webster is my witness, I’m going to make the attempt to cover them all.
One Guinness is several too few.
As inspired by: Keith's Mousetachio’s Moves
“You know, that dance wasn’t nearly as safe as everyone said it was.”
Starbucks may be an evil large corporation, stomping on local coffeeshops and leveling all diversity of drinks, but damnit, I can’t stop, help! Help!
Mousetachio was king of the 80’s dance moves.
as she ran about the house, tearing things apart in search of her wedding rings: and then trembled in fear when she found her rings at the bottom of the only garbage bag that had missed the morning take out, as she had an overwhelmng feeling that God would sooner than later extract his price for granting her selfish little wish so quickly and quietly.
Abdul’s tendency to whimper in his sleep like a scared puppy was at first endearing, but later it began to grate on his wife until one day she caught herself thinking, I’ll give you something to wimper about you simpering dog.
If I was going to have a dinner party for 20 the guestlist would certainly include Cyndi Lauper.
Ralph missed by only six months keeping his vow that by the age of 60 he would live entirely free of keys and alarm clocks.
Renata wondered, as she once again discovered her face firmly stuck to her desk by a trickle of drool, if she was the only person who dealt with stress by falling asleep.
If worthiness is judged by how clean ones refrigerator is, then I am in a heap of trouble.
The morning caffeine headache turned into a heat headache, which in turn became a low blood sugar headache, and later in the day, segued into an old-fashioned tension headache.
Morally opposed to the new flavors, Mitchell had no choice but to put in his two weeks notice at the Life Savers plant.
I can honestly say that I don’t remember my feet getting tangled in my underwear nearly so often as they do since turning 45.
As inspired by: pam's casualties in the war on lice
“Listen up, God, I’m going to ask once and ask nicely, please deliver a puppy by next week or I’m going to disbelieve in you forever.”
“It looks like a piece of dynamite,” my son said after wrapping the present; “Poppop should like that.”
When your bank puts a 9-day hold on a cashier’s check from the bank down the street, and refuses to exercise even a modicum of courtesy or common sense, causing a cascade of bounced checks and awfulness, then the terrorists evil, intrusive Bushist nanny-state Republicans have won.
“Success” is having the daycare accept my daughter’s freshly (re-)de-loused head, leaving me free to sign her in and then go to work and earn a paycheck; “failure” is my kid promptly bursting into tears and clinging to me in wretched despair, because she’d prayed she would not be accepted, so she could go home and spend a glorious day of freedom with her mother.
July 2006 has just been too damned ‘interesting’.
I was as tired as a dog after too much scratching.
i know that some of us will be innordinately excited about this, even though there is no indication yet just what it might be, but what i really wanted to point out here, class, is: foreshortening? or just really,really weird legs?
don’t ever promise to match your kids in toe touches; you will be sorry.
i wasted so much time playing with this 
today i was late to work.
Kind of makes a person uncomfortable, standing in a repo lot staring at a car with a wheelchair lift attached to the back, wondering how that person’s day is going.
When she slept, the quiet flowed like pea soup, but it didn’t stain.
As inspired by: 'mouse's Stop the world, I want to get off, redux
Anecdotal evidence, however, indicates that the kids who are solely on dope from Bristol Meyers and Pfizer are still pulling the wings off flies and aiming magnifying glasses at ant hills in the age-old tradition, while the ones who are sneaking off to smoke pot behind the bunkhouse are somewhat more evolved (or perhaps just lethargic).
A few days ago the New York Times carried an article that at sleep-over kids’ summer camps this year 40 to 50-percent of the campers take daily prescription medications, mostly for ADD, depression and bi-polar.
As Joseph watched the fly crawl across his antique mahogany partners desk he experienced a flashback to 5th grade when all the boys (and many of the girls) kept collections of live flies with their wings pulled off as pets in their desks at school.
I
dreamt
I was a bird
sitting
in an apple tree.
The sun
was out
and my feathers
were warm.
I was
resting
between courting
sessions
when some kids
snipped me off
with a BB gun.
Tying the hamster to the helium balloons, Peter suspected his experiment was about to go too far.
Steven had no way of knowing that one day kids would gather around his house and stare through the dirty windows, trying with all their might to catch a glimpse of The Twine Man.
As inspired by: 'mouse's Hot Bob
Bob wasn’t one to wallow in the frightful prospect of ‘global warming’; it was bad enough just to consider ‘NorCal warming’.
Bob, sweating in the heat, rolled over, squinted at the alarm clock—4am—and he listened, but even with all the doors and windows open there wasn’t the slightest breeze to stir the wind chimes.
But I’m finding a flaw in the dog toy squeaky idea.
Beetles and centipedes and insects of every sort and color scurried from the body, throwing up a steady breeze that the children fanned themselves in as they danced around wildly, their small, bony arms jutting to the cooling music that only the girls could hear, the boys being far too shy in the face of such short-lived beauty.
First it was just one tool, a nail gun, which he took in stride because of all that had been going on over the last few years, particularly the last month, but then when he needed a screwdriver, he realized that it was also the van filled with tools that was missing, which did bother him because not only was his work vehicle now gone, but because of the recent break-ins, he’d thought it smart to lock up every hand tool of any value in the van, which meant that they, too, where now gone; but the final straw of the day came with the phone call, when he learned that his house would now disappear in 86 days, a truly devastating blow to his morale, unless, of course, he was able to rustle up some quick magic, which we all know by now, no longer means magic, but money.
for she is the Queen of Mental Imagery: so much so that i see those artificial greens legs swinging off the side of the bridge, and am going to spend the remainder of my morning trying to remember jokes about bears.
Given that, in my book, a word is not a word until it finds itself properly placed in the pages of a good, papery dictionary, what do you call a pre-dictionary word?
My knees got all wobbly just over a thought today, more than a dozen times—a delicious feeling which probably earned a few strange glances from overly attentive customers.
“Just the bill,” he said, “and you can give it to that table over there, please.”
Not that my world isn’t enriched considerably in the presence of so much enthusiasm, (certainly I’ve taken their energy and run with it), but there is a limit to how much insight I can expect from my fellow students.
I hope the person who found my webpage by googling “how to make money selling porn” is not too terribly disappointed.
After years of searching flea markets and curiousity shops, Henry finally came upon Paul Bunyan’s famous cast iron skillet, which Henry planned on using to fry up life’s bigger fish.
I’ll have to remember this one—from bad to worse to fan-fucking-tastic.
hey, this is cool, they used one of my pictures!
Is it really so much to ask that after having fun at Coney Island all day- after riding the Wonder Wheel and the Cyclone, drinking beer, eating hotdogs, listening to the Scissor Sisters and The Stills, dancing for three hours- that I should be able to get onto the F train and not be laughed at to my face for ten minutes just because there is absolutely no way in hell you will ever see the living definition of perfection which is my breasts?
We’ve caught a glimpse of the exotic creature in motion!
I’m not saying I’m part monkey, but when I’m vacuuming, I can move things around with my toes like nobody’s business.
It is possible to turn minutes into days, hours into weeks and days into forever, simply by waiting for news of a dear friend undergoing surgery to have the aneurysm in her brain clipped.
Everyone should have a friend they can call up at 4:45pm on a Friday night and say, “Come over right now and bring Guinness,” and they do.
I’ll admit that I often choose friends who end up hurting me, but I didn’t have any choice about my mother.
There’s gotta be something better out there than a pureed chicken salad sandwich.
You wouldn’t think you could get yourself kicked out of Blogathon, but the way it turns out, it’s really quite simple.
Controversy often hides in the most unlikely of places.
Criminal lawyers refer to the fees you pay them as “stupidity tax.”
Gritting his teeth, Juan told himself, Don’t say it, just don’t say, “This day can’t get any worse,” you know what happened when Job did that.
Prudence realized, in the short time it took to leap into the dumpster behind the sushi bar, that there are, in fact, fates worse than being devoured by wild dogs.
As inspired by: Jo's On Pain
After three straight days at the magickingdom, three straight days of letting the seven-year-old make the intinerary, three straight days of sleeping in a hotel bed, three straight days of ethnic and cultural diversity; only John Lee Hooker and Muddy Waters can help me now, help me to stand proudly and say, ‘I am not as young as I used to be’.
Once the jury heard that Juan choked Allen to death after Allen casually bragged he’d written a computer virus there was no way Juan was going to be convicted of anything beyond Justifiable Insecticide.
I wonder if it would be possible to commit suicide by a fatal overdose of chocolate.
National Geographic has a sensational story right now about a paralyzed man who, with the help of some sensors implanted into his brain, was able to move things using only the power of thought, which made me think, Keith, if you were paralyzed, what would you do with your new powers?, which turns out, is just about what this man did with his: check email, turn up the volume on the t.v., and have a robot arm get me some candy.
As inspired by: Jo's On Pain
“I’m upright and I’m breathing - anything else is just a bonus.”
Do you ever think about that girl in fifth grade who could touch her elbows to the floor without bending her knees, because I know I sure do.
Pain is a tangible substance and serves two purposes: to protect us, and to serve as a constant reminder that we are alive, for the time being.
I’ve heard you should always brace for final impact, but then, I’ve also heard that my grandpa’s life was spared when he tumbled down the basement stairs (again) too drunk and limber to know any better, which brings me to my point - I’m ready!
Join me, Imaginary Keith, the ghost in the pickle jar, a handful of Mr. Cooper’s bones, the village constable, a host of giants, a couple of drunks, and, I’m happy to say (just confirmed it on the phone), God himself, as the lot of us settle into a 24 hour tale of nonsense that Ralph Nader has already claimed to be, “fraught with more peril than a horny teenage boy behind the wheel of a ‘61 Corvair.”
As inspired by: too much coffe and the company of grudknows
Nothing to say really, just felt the need to go “bonza, mate”.
Friends don’t let friends blog on Typepad.
Eating chipmunks is an extremely healthy lifestyle choice, because think about it, you know how much exercise you get just trying to catch one of those things?
“As long as you’re in there,” said Bob, “could you look for my sense of humor?”
“I’m the most optimistic pessimist I know,” Bob said to the bartender.
Keith is proud to announce the opening of The Last Lemming Latte Stop Starbuck’s Franchise perched precariously cliffside.
“I saw this show last night on serial killers,” he says to me casually across the bar, “and of course I thought of you.”
Before you leave, you have to grapple with the possibility that it disappears completely, never to be seen again.
I never expected that my polite invitation would cause all of the villagers to stop by the house for dinner on the same night, and I certainly couldn’t have predicted their simple refusal to eat off of paper plates; I do believe I’ll be washing dishes all night!
You can tell yourself you’re not hoping, that logically you realise the chance of things working out are infinitesimally small, that it’s just silly to even think about remote possibilities, but when the final straw is broken and the last dash of hope is erased, you realise all of that was just fooling yourself and that the groaning sound you can hear is the final crack appearing in your broken heart.
I’ll never meet a man wearing velco-strap shoes that I’ll like.
Becky flickered softly in the corner, her many, many toes hovering a centimetre or so above the ground, and she scanned the crowd looking for someone a little bit ‘pooky’, another someone a little bit ‘soggy’ and, to complete the set, someone a little bit ‘nice’.
They say that, as a rule of thumb, health-conscious omnivores should not select food products that would perplex one’s great-great grandparents (were one somehow able to drive one’s ancestors to the supermarket); this notion would have made sense to Bob at the moment he paused in front of the Cheetos display, and distinctly heard in his internal ears the derisive shrieking of Ukranian fishwives.
I’m looking for a woman who watches television; are you the one for me?
the last great Prince enthusiast who parties like it’s 1999.
There are those still moments, when you don’t even desire anything else.
When a movie is so bad you can’t even sit through it at three in the morning, that’s a really bad movie—I’m talking to you, Snakehead Terror!
How can you resist…well…see for yourself. The University of Metaphysical Sciences
As the flea poison hissed from the cans and Keith frantically searched for his watch, breathing in what had to be impossible amounts of toxic gas, all I could think to say was, “You don’t need your watch because I can tell you what time it is - time to get out of here!”
As inspired by: The Search for Imaginary Keith
“IK, are you down there?” shouted Juan, as he lowered a rope of hope (with a bottle of beer tied at the end) down the well.
Tammy had the distinct feeling that her work was trying to subtly erase every last modicum of her personality, piece by piece, memo by memo, email by email.
Bob spent many a sleepless night, tossing and turning and wondering if he could have done anything on that day he saw Imaginary Keith fall in the well and left him there because he was late for his appointment for a haircut.
This week’s manifestation of the underlying weirdness of the universe is two new clients, both named Vanessa.
If the ‘Mousechildren are raised on nothing but homemade apricot and blackberry and strawberry and kiwi jam (and paradise jelly and other Bakerina Kitchens products) will they turn out to be well rounded liberal Democrats, will they become obnoxious foodie snobs, or will they turn Republican and buy nothing but Smucker’s Grape Jelly?
Armed with the knowledge that it was once again time for the Blogathon, Mr. Kumquat decided that buying fifty cases of Afri-Cola over the internet was completely justified after all.
yet there was no one to high five after she finally made her way into scrinecast, podcast, in fact, the twenty-first century as a whole; and was confronted by the benevolent and inspiring voice of our lovely host (can i request an ‘aoooogah’?).
Known as the Scrine System, the concept of the one sentence limit was originally implemented during the short-lived Grammar War of ‘22 - a time when periods were in short supply and tightly rationed.
and i will solve my own problems: seems i’d left my key over at netscape.
I’ll have my pirate with fruit.
We named the cat something elegant while she was a kitten, and now she only answers to “Clod” or “Lardass.”
These days we attend more first birthdays than twenty-first, and while there’s usually far less drunkenness there seem to be about the same percentage of guests throwing up by the end of the party.
Bob wanted back all the time he had spent untangling filament-thin bracelets and necklaces for other people.
As inspired by: Jo's Important!
I’ve decided I need to write myself a list of things that I can shout out loud and, hopefully, use to startle bystanders.
They’ve got too much time on their hands, sure…but It’s so cool!Wizards In Winter
I found an old map of the United States that my son had filled in as he’d practiced learning his states and capitals some time ago, noticing such strange places as Utaw and Pennsil…., Kanzes and the Dikotas, Ilinoys, Vergina, and Whioming, and thought that I wouldn’t mind visiting some of those places one day.
You can be sure that 99 out of 100 men will not tell you that their “thingie” is the uvula.
As inspired by: 'mouse's Ungoogleable
What the heck is that thingie (often a line from a poem) called that’s between the dedication page and the first chapter of a book?
Faster than a speeding chicken,
More powerful than a clip-on-bow-tie,
Able to leap dual time-zones in a single sleep.
Unexpected activities for this week; assesssing food for its ‘sogginess’ factor.
I’ve got an idea for the next James Bond movie: instead of the villian threatening the safety of the world with nuclear weapons (that’s soooo Cold War) or the destruction of public landmarks, Mr Evil should wield his power by harnessing the power of the world’s cockroaches (giant roaches would be even better, because not even the all-powerful member nations of the UN Security Council have a shoe big enough to squash that shit); not only would he be unstoppable, but there could even be some new-age psychology thrown in, where he’s got a God complex but can’t seem to get the locusts to do his bidding.
If the best things in life are free, then why does beer cost so much?
Pirates are yummy, especially when sprinkled in paprika.
As I unceremoniously shove shredded cheese from an economy size bag into little ziplock baggets, if you will, I am suddenly very grateful of my faithful dog’s Built-In Cleaning nature.