“Dear Word Detective: I heard a word used to describe the substitution of song lyrics, those frequently encountered situations when someone has made up words that they thought were the lyrics but often are crazy substitutions…”
Sometimes God hides in my dish soap, and when I squirt him out, he gets angry if I’m washing the dog bowl.
“It was a big war and Elvis Costello and Harry Potter where on my team, but then there was a glitch and Harry Potter ended up on top of a building, really mad, but then Elvis Costello started shooting at him so Harry Potter jumped down and we started shooting at Elvis Costello.”
When I was a lad, we were so poor we couldn’t afford the Mac or the Cheese and only had ‘n to eat.
Hara-kiri is the only honorable path at this point.
If you’re my friend and your life isn’t going to shit, please speak up.
I’m always glad to see that the CIA is improving on their use of the television as an in-home torture device.
As inspired by: Keith's Blasphemous Accidents
Moller would occasionally be spotted on Furl and Reddit; at first he claimed he was just visiting friends, but later acknowledged a long list of idealogical differences that ultimately led to his break from the del.icio.us community.
As an outspoken proponent of propane, it didn’t take long for Luke to become the least favorite member of the East Texas BBQ Club.
unexpected downpour + broken boat motor - water skiing + fooling around with wife in leaky tent = surprisingly fun Saturday
The fact that student loans aren’t transferable means I break even by dying, but now that I have life insurance I’m actually profitable.
His testimony plagued with inconsistencies, Paul Weedle had no choice but to abandon his dream of becoming the Northwest’s leading expert on argyle socks.
It would be better if we could sell the house but still live here.
If I started a new blog, but posted only on Sundays, do you think I might trick Google into thinking I was the word of God?
All I did today was make a gallon of corn salsa and a cherry pie, so why do I feel so tired?
“Next time I appear to you to be stuck in a tree,” snarled Muriel, holding a gauze pad to the weeping graze on her arm, “please ask if I would like a helping hand - or maybe a magazine and a sandwich; do not just run up and pull on my foot.”
I’ll trade you the motor oil you spilled in the bed of the pickup, for these three baskets of clean laundry.
The ghost town shimmered under the hot desert sun, mute, mysterious, inviting.
“Get along in thar, little doggie!” shouted the tired, sweaty song wrangler as he herded the last of the strays into the corral.
Mabel found that if she honestly told people she was going to act selfishly and then did so, everything worked out fine.
As Myrathwyan sat in front of her iMac, excitement sent tremors through her slender body as she logged into the new online shop for ‘things of interest to elvenkind’.
Juan decided it was time to quit cursing the fates that had caused his country to be wild kanga-free and do something about it.
Bank withdrawl slips, business cards, phone numbers, wadded up bills, loose coins, a ballpoint pen, two shopping lists, some small screws, the directions to a meeting, lint, a broken watch, keys, some unidentifiable crumbs—and that just represents three or four day’s accumlation in my jeans pockets—I hesitate to speculate what the inside of an adult kangaroo’s pocket might contain.
Juan excitedly tore the Amazon.com package open, only to discover the ostensibily new toaster he’d ordered was used, scratched and had to be returned.
Having never been much of a fan of electric guitars, I find I like learning the electric guitar much better than I like learning on an acoustic.
Okay, I can’t draw for peanuts, but I’d like to know what that phrase even means.
Little bear lay on her back gazing at the clouds, flattening out a field of daisies, while the busy, squishy oomans walked right by making so much noise that they failed to notice her, the daisies or the bunnies.
You kind of blow your cover once you’ve hit a guy with a piece of rebar. (Burn Notice)
Bear, being unable to read, was not bothered by the world news as the discarded newspaper fluttered quite prettily on the dancing breeze over the field of wildflowers.
Impossible “coincidences” shook the foundations of Juan’s secular humanism.
Dr. Higgins firmly believed in the future of the upright dog, which he called Canine uprighteous (sometimes confused with Feline self-righteous, or common house cat), and would spend his days tirelessly reconstructing his bone collection, imagining just how it would look.
I suspect all cats and dogs consider their true name to be ‘Fang’, even (especially) the pink-ribboned ones named Tiddles.
The little bear looked up, startled, but couldn’t see who was in front of her, as her view was obscured by the giant jam jar stuck over her nose.
Bear startled at the hiss from the aluminum can when he bit it, but quickly discovered he liked the contents of the case of beer the panicked picnickers had left behind.
As little bear roamed amongst the cedars, she heard the sweet, sweet sound of buzzing bees.
Eddie seldom used the word scram, but when he did, he meant it.
Sated, Bear napped under the shade of a cedar tree next to a field of summer wildflowers which was abuzz with the sound of bees.
Meanwhile, deep in a hedge on a hill on an island 13 miles off the coast of Rhode Island, Bee found a wild rose rugosa blossom drenched in a perfume that would make French parfumiers, Persian bakers and New York City tea merchants giddy with desire.
On the sunny side of the patch, up high, Bear found the first ripe blackberries of the year.
Bear sat in the middle of the stream and let the salmon come to him.
Hara-kiri is the only honorable path at this point.
If anyone’s suffering from insomnia, I have a 30-page commercial lease you can read which is guaranteed to lull you to sleep by page 11.
The future of old sayings is always questionable; for instance, in the future, the growing clone population will no doubt find it offensive to hear “chip off the old block.”
I fully understand the concept of entropy and I don’t need dead coffeemakers and broken watch bands to repeat the stupid concept to me over and over.
I’m a giant glue ball.
I haven’t given up on life, just the parts that cost money.
I used to lust after the 1949-1954 5-window chevy pickups, but now I’ve only got eyes for the 1946 Chevy.
We won’t even talk about the boat on which a young (?) woman gave an impromptu drunken lap dance to the accompaniment of “Kids in America” by Kim Wilde.
I am not being sarcastic, but rather, genuinely curious: Why would you dock your boat on one of the sweetest, sleepiest, most verdant, salt-scented islands in the Atlantic, and then spend your weekend with your boat in the slip while your stereo system blares “Jessie’s Girl” by Rick Springfield on repeat play, over and over and over and over?
“Dad, can I have the front section of the newspaper—I want to see who died or had their legs sliced off on a thrill ride or whatever.”
I’d like to go through a day without speaking.
I read in the paper today that Beckham just wants his family to “continue to live ordinary, everyday lives.”
William realized, too late, that, a) his kitchen knives were truly razor sharp, and b) he’d really really pissed off his wife
Charged with numerous counts of copyright infringement by SOCAN, Canadian hairdresser, Beatrice M., demanded to know how much money went to Olivia every time she played her “Let’s Get Physical” CD while she gave perms.
“The demise of the American sentence can be traced back nearly 60 years,” Henry told his editor, “so yes, I do think it’s unfair of you to say I was the one who got the ball rolling.”
Given that my land-line phone died a month ago and I didn’t miss it, it’s now time to cancel the phone and determine if a man can live by high-speed internet alone.
If it were all by ‘design’, wouldn’t they be square and stackable?
But I have found a paradox in that I cant find enough people to help me eat it before it goes bad!
Marian resisted retirement when they put that new-age coffee shop RIGHT across from the circulation desk, but packed the typewriter away for good when the new library system offered tag clouds instead of good honest Library of Congress Subject Headings in an appropriately controlled browse list.
Ross would probably eat more papayas if they didn’t smell so much like his little brother’s gym shoes.
His motives smelled of 2-day-old armpits, so I kept to the shadows, just in case.
The city I live in is looking more and more like an Internet pop-up ad every day.
Whatever a “bottlo” is, it has evil, library-supplanting powers, and therefore we must hate it.
The very tall woman gestured towards a part of the library that was ‘just for her’ and in all the excitement the little girl nearly forgot to breathe.
They may not be wild yet, but the New York Times (in a stunning feat of social commentary only possible in such a venerable paper) recently sighted librarians who weren’t total grandmas.
When asked his occupation, Peter would often reply, “I’m an explorer,” but would seldom elaborate on his constant search for the perfect breakfast gravy.
“No, I said I want you to find my G-spot, not have you spot me a G,” said Katy, handing back Roland’s $1000.
“Don’t date, sleep with, marry or even become close friends with neurotic women—it ain’t worth it, trust me on this, kid.”
Maintaining the secret location of the hideout was not the only problem plaguing the members of the Neurotic Justice League.
Oh shit, I totally forgot about today’s Alzheimer’s meeting!
“How ironic that when young people get married and promise to cleave only unto their spouses, they can never factor in the myriad midlife sex drive debilitators that happen at the worst possible times, and last, heaven help you, ‘til death do you part - oh, honey, that veil is just perfect.”
“Why can’t people just enjoy sex without all this mushy emotional baggage crap,” complained Andy to his long-suffering bartender, “I’m tired of hurting and being hurt and just once in my life I’d like a simple roll in the hay with someone who wants the same.”
At today’s meeting, I abruptly stood up in front of a roomful of scathingly doubtful librarians and explained to them that not all of Web 2.0 involves interacting on MySpace like a bunch of crazed 15 year-olds, thank you very much.
For some reason, teenage cats offer the highest quality petting experience; they have finally learned how not to scratch you, and they have not yet realized they’re too cool to be seen with you.
“You shouldn’t have any trouble remembering to remove your new artificial brain for its routine maintenance,” Dr. Shloigan told Peter, “but remembering to put it back in, now that’s the tricky part.”
It’s going to be another beautiful day!
Juan never revealed to anyone that he would drop everything and dedicate his life to her if only Tina Turner would give him a sign.
It’s not cheating, Yolanda told herself, rationalizing that sex with her 6’3” black, ex-football-player lover existed in an entirely separate universe from her 20-year marriage with her 5’5” skinny white husband.
Why do we have to ask why?
It slowly began to dawn on Julie that it was going to be a long, uphill battle to manipulate the Scrine website into being all about cats and the people who love them.
When I saw the chickens pecking at the loose change, I knew they’d become Capitalists and could no longer be trusted.
You could very well lose your nose in an argument over some finer point of math.
It seems only yesterday that she reveled in being able to sit outside with shorts on, and regrets that it won’t be many more days until she longs for a little crispness in the air.
For the aging fiber ingestor, the chickpea is a perfect little ball of joy.
“Well,” said Bronwyn, “I’ve read the article and can sum it up thusly: Yes, we need to comply, unless we are exempt, but no one can say for sure whether we’re exempt because the government is still drafting the exemptions as well as the penalties for failure to comply…why are you all looking at me like that?”
“Our customer has asked if we’re equipped to submit certifications of compliance for this complicated new law on heavy metal and hazardous materials in China, which we’ve never had to submit before; here’s a really painful article about it by a pair of lawyers,” at which Bronwyn’s ears pricked up ever so slightly.
“I’m going to have a midlife crisis,” explained Juan to no one in particular, “just as soon as I can schedule it in.”
“It’s true,” said Round Watermelon Smith to Bronwyn, “that you’ll definitely have more damp earth, creosote, diesel and beans from a can than you would in law school; then again, in law school you won’t have nearly as many Pinkertons trying to break your legs—that is, unless your grades are really, really terrible.”
Patrick rolled over, smelled sour sweat on silk sheets and realized he’d sold his soul to the devil and his hobo days were over.
Wally rolled over, smelled the damp earth, creosote and diesel and went back to sleep, content in the knowledge that he was still a hobo.
Getting the howitzer out of the attic was proving to be much harder than Henry had hoped.
If you find yourself on hold with Big Appliance Co. for nearly two hours, and decide to vacuum the pool while waiting, do not…I repeat…do NOT place the phone in your cleavage to free up both hands..it will end badly.
Today’s white peaches were not quite as juicy as the famous shower mangoes, but they still required eating over a sink and washing up to my elbows afterward.
There’s no sign of intelligent life on this planet.
How the hell do people learn to play the guitar?
My father is happiest with the drill driver in one hand and a screwdriver in the other, taking something apart in my house.
If you can’t buy it or sell it on Craigslist, you don’t need it or not need it, respectively.
For the first time in my life, the song on the radio lined up with the clicking of my turn signal this afternoon; unfortunately, the experience wasn’t as miraculous as I’d hoped because the aforementioned song was Bad Company, “Feel Like Making Love,” which did not inspire revelatory feelings in my heart.
The phrase “you can never have too many” apparently has its limits.
The coffee ducks gathered and conspired about their latest plan to make Juanita’s phone ring at the exact moment between when she flipped the coffeemaker switch on and when she put the pot back into place, hopefully distracting her into bringing the pot with her as she searched for the hidden-by-the-ducks cellphone and the coffeemaker began spewing its contents over the counter and onto the floor.
As Luanne wrote up her personal ad, she hesitated over the freezer fetish, feeling sure that she was alone in the world.
Jerry assumed that everyone liked to hang upside down in their basements like a side of beef the way he did.
having given up the ph.d quest over two years ago, can it be imagined that i might even contemplate re-entry into the hoary halls of academe to secure a masters in aesthetics in order to have at least something to show for my decade’s labor, and would they even take me?
Being crabby made Lester very happy.
Rosemary despaired that she hadn’t yet lost a smidgen of weight on the Park Your Car Twelve Blocks From Your Office And Set Your Watch Ahead Ten Minutes diet.
When he accidently bumped into the Devil on the train, Henry apologized profusely, going as far as to compliment the Devil on his fresh smelling breath; the Devil accepted Henry’s apology and compliments, but assured him that “back home, my breath is much worse.”
It’s not as bad as you’d think.
I think it’s time to have a bit of fun with synonyms.
As inspired by: Keith's Like Dish Soap, A Little God Goes A Long Way
Nothing makes a god grumpier than having his fresh lavender scent tainted by whuffy doggy wetness.
Sometimes God hides in my dish soap, and when I squirt him out, he gets angry if I’m washing the dog bowl.
I now have an irresistible urge to take my espresso down to the riverbank, just to see what happens.
In forwarding my daughters’ musical education, I’ve lately taken to pointing out, “You know, there’s a song about that,” such as “Splish Splash” (Bobby Darrin), “In My Room” (Beach Boys), “Rhubarb Pie” (John Fogerty), “Strawberry Jam” (Michelle Shocked), “Cherry Pie” (Sade), “Me and My Gin” (Bessie Smith), “Big Balls” (AC/DC), “Summer in the City” (Lovin’ Spoonful), and on and on and on, to the point where I smile and say, “You know,” and pause and they chorus, “There’s a song about that,” and wait for me to reveal its name so we can run and cue it up on the jukebox.
Through the magic of extra-dark choclate, Juan was transported back to a spring day over 36 years ago, reliving its sights, sounds, smells, and of course, tastes.
“Burritos should NOT have hazelnuts in them.”
Having recovered his stolen legs from the sheriff, Thomas got on with his day.
His head was hard, his stubborness legendary, yet even the simplest of observers that day plainly saw the greater strength of Peggy’s big stick.
Somehow the drowned men suddenly became a drowned baby, which surrounded by the inaction of medical personnel, I brought back to life with hastily remembered cpr, for which I was rewarded with a healthy soaking of vomited water and the soul-filling joy of my role as savior.
I’m telling you, when the tallest man meets the shortest man, I can’t help but think that Scrine sentences are coming to life.
Last year a small bird drowned in our pool and was discovered by one of my son’s friends as they all plunged into the water without looking; but I like this year’s retelling of the story much better than last year’s, because now the story includes not a small dead sparrow, but rather a three-foot, black crow floating straight-up in the water (“and I swear this part is true, Dad”) with dead eyes that won’t look away.
The coffee ducks are out to get me this morning.
Raylene gazed at the doorway that was overflowing with mismatched chairs, broken suitcases and spare pens as she realised just why it was that the group had not yet had their inaugural meeting.
Whenever he scrubbed his powder-burned feet, Henry would wonder if circus life had been his best choice.
I’ve never been able to stand on my head, but I am very good at naps, which is, I’m sure you’ll agree, the more practical skill.
Sunday always gets in the way.
Is the river moving, or are we?
/begin fantasy/ The sun is shining, a slight breeze is blowing, the lawnmower is broken, the beer is cold and a hammock hangs invitingly in the shade. /end fantasy/
More time wouldn’t help; I just need less of the things that fill it.
Hating to take out the trash, Henry developed an almost uncanny ability to balance anything and everything atop the small kitchen can, although in retrospect, he soon realized that the talent brought him little satisfaction, and certainly no respect.
“Egg custard is an honourable, and an ancient alternative to cream; commercial powder custard is not…(i)t’s better to halve the quantities, than to serve a great floury bowlful.”
“What many people don’t know is that ‘fool’ comes from the French verb fouler, to crush; it’s not a description of someone prepared to pay the price of half a pint of cream.”
I’m STARVING….I so need an apple.
Sure, it seemed insightful, whimsical and witty at 12.02, but it was probably just about ducks.
Enlightenment tickles.
Who brings three bags of loose tea to work, for the brewing of impossibly fragrant and beautiful iced teas, and then leaves her tea strainer at home?
I’m glad the sun comes up without any real effort on my part.
Been there
done that
highly overrated
music’s better here
the dance goes on
people
playful imaginations
draw me back
inevitably
bodhisattva of mangoes
margaritas
all seek enlightenment together
HUMANS
NEXT 56 YRS
PROCEED WITH KINDNESS
As the whiskery, pooky and soggy man entered the gloom, he thought he could make out a glittering and tall mound of ice which seemed to contain a girl of many colours and shapes.
Happy to exchange mangoes and margaritas for information on the whereabouts of our wise and pooky ‘mouse.
If my dog really liked me, she wouldn’t jingle her tags in my ear at 4:00 every morning.
If my cat really liked me, she wouldn’t sleep in my office while I worked.
Sure the books are good, but I like browsing the quiet.
Jeremiah looked out the window at the fog sticking to the world. He pondered the meaning of things: Were to lose one friend for another, to give up something just as it become atainable, to dismiss something just as it becomes intruiging…were that the meaning… To distinguish from those who would stand behind their previous assumptions and those who would abandon them for meaning which…may not make more sense but may be more satisfying.
Clearly, as anyone will tell you, a heated toilet seat is not a need but I’ve gotta tell you, when the alternative is ascending the throne in a room where the temperature is approaching 0 degrees Celsius (and probably from the wrong side) my convictions on that matter begin to waver.
Every object holds a memory, and in a way, the happy ones are more painful than the sad.
Paging through Christopher Moore’s “Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal,” ‘mouse found the section he’d been looking for, which read, “…when one reaches the place of Buddhahood and realizes there is no Buddha because everything is Buddha, when one reaches enlightenment, but make a decision that he will not evolve to nirvana until all sentient beings have preceded him there, then he is a bodhisattva,” upon which, ‘mouse, unable to think of any better last words said, “So long and thanks for all the [garbled],” and disappeared with a slight popping noise.
From coast to coast, from continent to continent, all fell silent and waited for the telltale click that would signify the rollover.
The fifth sentence posted to Scrine, and ‘mouse’s first was, “I’m saving my first sentence until I think of something really insightful to say.”
Watching the clock doesn’t bring the future about any faster, but putting words on screen and periods where they belong are steps on the journey toward… “Hey, why are we all in this handbasket and why is it getting so hot in here!”
“Of course, Arthur,” replied Merlin, weaving slightly on his feet as he raised his voice in the hall to be heard above the clinking of mead goblets, “a young man like you in his prime, freshly crowned King, ought to take a wife at this time - and I have forseen the very one: the beauteous Guenevere, daughter of Leodegrance, you remember him, guy with all the real estate - and she (for a while) she will be a great credit to you as queen … until” - the wizard paused for a quick swallow of mead - “she falls in love with your best friend - no, not that one, dimwit, the other one - and the scandal erodes both your legendary confidence and your credibility as monarch over a united land, and causes your kingdom to fall, until in the end both you and England are a mere husk of your former selves - but hey, if you’re sure about this, let’s get on the road and fetch that bride!”
Enlightenment reached out and tickled him with her featherlight touch.
Hiding in the electric lines, the demon destroyed the toaster, two coffeemakers and the dishwasher (twice) in just three months.