A person who comes into the office in place of another to take up space, drink free coffee and eat free donuts, and do your shit work for you; where can I get one… oh wait I am one.
Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh dear… deary, deary, deary me.
It’s only Friday but I am already planning what to say to my boss when I call in sick on Monday, but whatever excuse I use it must be good because the boss is getting suspicious (perhaps I will call in feral).
My life, mysterious
A paradoxical nightmare
Sweet, yet bulletproof
The life of choice seems to be a sparrow: you can fly around, just like all the regal hawks and so forth, but no humans are interested in hunting you and you seem to be able to eat just about anything.
lol, rofl, lmao, NASA!!!!!!!
I thought that doing 3 hours of homework every night was way over the top, even if this was my last year of school, but I do six on an easy night anyway.
I haven’t posted anything here in so long I sort of forgot this site existed.
YYY hereby expressly waives the following, including, without limitation, any and all defenses, claims, and set-offs of any kind or nature arising directly or indirectly as a result of any of the following: (i) acceptance or notice of the acceptance of this Guaranty; (ii) notice of the existence or creation of any other documents or agreements between the parties and/or XXX; (iii) presentment, demand, notice of dishonor, protest, and all other notice whatsoever; (iv) the invalidity, irregularity, or unenforceability of the liabilities hereby guaranteed; (v) all diligence on the part of ZZZ in collection or protection of, or realization upon, any security for any of the liabilities or in enforcing any remedy available to it under any agreement between the parties hereto and/or XXX; (vi) the right of power under any statute or rule of law, to demand, or otherwise require, that ZZZ take, initiate or pursue any action against XXX or against the property of XXX standing as security for the liabilities; (vii) any defense that may now or hereafter arise by reason of the incapacity, lack of authority, death or disability of XXX, or any officer, partner or agent of XXX, any co-guarantor, or any other person or entity or the failure of ZZZ to file or enforce a claim against the estate (either in administration, bankruptcy, or any other proceeding) of XXX or any other person or entity; (viii) any duty on the part of ZZZ to disclose to YYY any facts it may now or hereafter know regarding the XXX; (ix) the defense of the statute of limitations in any action hereunder or for the collection of the indebtedness or the performance of any obligations hereby guaranteed; (x) any delay on the part of ZZZ in exercising any of its rights under this Guaranty, or otherwise; (xi) until the obligation hereby guaranteed are satisfied in full, any right of subrogation to ZZZ against XXX and any rights to enforce any remedy which ZZZ may have against XXX and any rights to participate in any security for the Note or Loan Documents; and (xii) any defense based upon an election of remedies by ZZZ which destroys or otherwise impairs any subrogation rights of YYY or the right of YYY to proceed against XXX for reimbursement, and/or any other rights of YYY to proceed against XXX, against any other guarantor, or against any other person or security, including without limitation, any defense based upon an election of remedies by ZZZ under the provision of Sec. 580d and 726 of the California Code of Civil procedure and/or any similar law of California or of any other jurisdiction; (xiv) any right to assert against ZZZ any defense (legal or equitable), set-off, counterclaim, and/or claim which YYY may now or at any time hereafter have against XXX and/or any other party liable to ZZZ in any way or manner.
Overweight, commitment-phobic George found himself somehow the object of all the ladies’ attention after his simple trip through the park, where inexplicably bees swarmed around him and the scent of lavender permeated his hair.
Mr. and Mrs. Moss lived like two different plotlines in the same novel.
If I have more black and white photographs taken of myself—or maybe only one!—maybe I can become one of the mysterious people.
Innocence corrupts.
Now that we have confirmed that it’s not a large roach but a tiny mouse skittering around our apartment, I am ready to buy a nice humane mouse trap—or at least I would be if only Google would give up at least one retail source in New York City, and not a million sources for ordering them online.
I always hope for a better childhood for myself, this time around with more parties and balloons and less taunting.
“Yes, it’s very pretty,” thought Arthur as he glared at the unexpected shining mountain of gold, “but all I was trying to do was sharpen the lead for my pencil.”
“Well, in a bit of a pickle there aren’t you Pete, spot of a jam indeed, stuck between rock salt and a hard place I’d say,” cracked Pepper and all Pete’s condiments fell about laughing.
I can’t imagine a home without clipboards.
“Now Geoff, I don’t want to be harsh, you did okay but really, the collar, I’ve seen it before, and the readings, well, they were straight out of the same old book and so I’m afraid I’m going to have to give that four bibles out of ten.”
What’s the easiest way to shoot this one in the foot?
Rage may be the cleanser, but it makes a rotten sous-chef.
Each five minutes of Social Security Administration lobby time is worth one minute of time in the normal world where the laws of physics apply and where people speak and think, unfettered and free.
On the dais, former Governor Gray Davis warmed to his subject, heartened to see the audience grow gradually more still and to hear their breathing become slow and measured; though he fleetingly wondered why so many had their eyes closed, he presumed it was for greater concentration on his words of wisdom.
Frustrated with being peppered with trivial problems whenever he was at his busiest or had a paper due, Gibson inadvertently hit upon the perfect solution: he would read aloud from any handy text book or white paper until the crowd hastily disbursed.
While wandering in a knitting store, Jake pointed out a matter of (il)logic to Tammy: one shears the sheep, cleans the wool, cards it into roving, spins it into fiber, and knits it up using a little stuffed sheep pattern, only to felt it and make it fluffy again; “what is the point,” he queries?
The majority of today’s class wasn’t as quiet as an ant pissing on cotton; It was as quiet as an ant not even thinking about pissing on cotton.
Her midterm paper, unfortunately, would not write itself, no matter how many chickens she sacrificed or incantations she muttered.
“But, Inspector Riggins, that makes no sense,” said Arthur in a perplexed little voice, “perhaps you would care to demonstrate it for me?”
“In my line of work there is just such a device,” Inspector Riggins told his friend Arthur, “and for lack of a better name, we on the force simply refer to it as “the victim’s head.””
“Surely,” thought Arthur, “you’d think there’d be someone out there who needs a device for softening bricks.”
“And you’ll note on your left the remains of a giant chicken, which, interestingly, hides a costume box and a set of clown shoes,” said the guide as she continued down the halls of the Overly Fertile Imagination.
Jerry’s boss, dismayed that his employee spent the morning listening to his Ipod and drinking coffee, sent him an email asking him why the report wasn’t finished, and Jerry who hated being nagged, replied by advising his boss that unless there was a blow-job in it for him he didn’t see the report being finished until a week from Friday.
What day does national murder your boss day fall on this year?
Unfortunately, it’s a short trip that usually just involves letting go of the parking break.
“Fuck me, but I love Firefox.”
I’ve decided that my first book will be a musical-romance novel, but I’m torn between naming it “The Fondling of the Glockenspiel” or “The Ravaging of the Glockenspiel”.
Rufus thinks that he could never punch a woman unless maybe she was trying to kill him, and even then he’s not so sure; my friend Schuster was confused by this, saying, “Not so sure about punching them, or not so sure about them wanting to kill you?, because I’m pretty sure every woman you’ve ever met wants to kill you.”
“He loves me, He loves me not,” hummed Miss Jane as she plucked at his fingers one by one, and as she looked into his pleading eyes she paused and said “don’t worry, my little Valentine, it will hurt, but I won’t feel a thing.”
You can’t tell me meteorologists aren’t just playing with weather presenters when the long range weather forecast reads “Sultry” for Tuesday, “Wet” on Wednesday and then “Hot” “Hot” “Hot” for the rest of the week.
Your own car’s indicators are not meant to let you know where you’re going but to let others know where you’re going and as such their use is not optional just because you and yours know where y’all are off to!!
“I, am like a leaf on the wind,” announced Barry loudly, much to the surprise of the remainder of the laboratory, “but not one of those leaves fluttering merrily to and fro on a whim, looking for all the world as though they haven’t a care, rather I’m like the leaf you see trapped in a vertically-planed circular orbit caused by some localised vagary of pressure differentials, constantly having it’s head smashed against the nearest wall whether it would or no, so, please, stop blowing this place up.”
Bevyn thought it was cool to refer to his banjo as “his axe” but the rest of the members in his folk troupe just thought he was a tool.
Check out this, then go place your bid on this.
So much to read, so little time to turn pages; she decided to sing it out loud in the coffeeshop instead.
The world is unquestionably vile, but some of the people living on it are unfailingly beautiful.
Who did let the dogs out?
Given the choice, would most people prefer the truth over a good narrative, or, hell, even know it if it bit them in the butt?
Is it really possible for someone to write a 100% honest and truthful autobiography, free of even the slightest embelishment or tweak here and there for taste?
“It’s not an entire disaster… I mean heck, it’s edible.”
the streaming bbc is signing off for the night, saving the queen once more, but not before informing me from afar of my own odd afternoon in my florida improvised backstage classroom with drawn blue velvet curtains and about a dozen six-year-olds: when the darkness struck it struck those kids completely dumb; the lights, i said, don’t worry guys, it’s just the lights gone out, hang on, and, heaving on the ropes that swing the velvets back, invoked the ambient sun to save their owl-eyed faces once again.
It’s a vile world after all.
Rufus thinks that maybe he should be more careful about downloading music, but my friend Schuster told him not to worry because eventually everyone would realize that music was just like sex, and that paying for it was fine as long as you didn’t make it a habit.
As inspired by: littledevilworks's I might have misheard the lyrics #2….
Dance with me to the color of the dust.
I hope the optometrist has to get out his big ruler to measure my head.
If I’m ordering a small coffee/tea/mocha latte/root beer, it’s because I want only a little coffee/tea/mocha latte/root beer, so offering me the large for only 35 cents more isn’t as helpful as you think it is.
Sal was a mild mannered customer service representative from Yorkshire 25 days out of the month, but that last week, when the moon turned full, Sal’s inner wolf would emerge and he would wander the English countryside at night bashing in the heads of random strangers with his telephone.
As inspired by: boot's to hell with your skim milk and ‘skinny’ lattes
Got a gallon of milk the other day which the homogenization had failed on and it was nicely topped with cream which I scooped off and plopped in the budding teenager’s coffee cup and she pronounced it the best thing she’d ever had and then she complained for a solid five minutes about the evils of the nanny-state and its stupid homogenization and pasteurization agenda and the demise of the milk-truck delivering milk in jars that would cool on your porch and form cream on top and… I have no idea where she gets it from.
On the advice of a respected instructor, I agreed to audit a class so far over my head that it was bound to result in the rending of garments and the gnashing of teeth and so here I sit, garments rended, teeth gnashed, feeling like a dimwitted boob (though apparently not as big a boob as one might find in Britain).
A report filed by our Scrine UK correspondent suggests that British Breasts are getting larger while dental hygiene decreases (teeth are overrated).
If I keep it up
I’ll never get thinner;
I had pie for lunch,
And more pie for dinner.
At the watering hole, the 500 pound Ovid sentence stretched its razor sharp punctuation, intimidating any who dared approach, the fresh stench of Boo Radley still on its breath.
I’d write a 500-word epic post of beauty about my new life in Kansas, but there aren’t enough Wizard of Oz jokes to make it worthwhile.
‘Have patience and endure’, said Ovid, many long years ago, certainly before my birth in January 1973, during the first in a long line of trials punishing people for hubris, both theirs and Nixon’s, and while I don’t believe in such a thing as coincidence (everything happens for a reason, let’s not kid ourselves, even that nappy-headed ho, Wittgenstein, believed this, depending on one’s interpretation of his writing, of course), I find it hard to comprehend the possibility that I might have had something to do with the way Watergate ended, for my own ego has been dragged through the mud enough to know better than to make such haughty claims to playing important historical rolls, but I digress, where was I, oh yes, Ovid and his blessed little remark, patience and endurance truly are worthy virtues, along with perseverance, hope, and decent hygiene, but the particular idea behind being able to sit quietly and wait on the God of your choice or Fortuna’s fickle wheel and to not give up, to never give up (thank you, Winston), this takes real courage, the kind Atticus Finch had when he fought the good fight knowing it was a losing battle, thanks to the townspeople’s relentless pursuit of ignorance, and Boo Radley, thank heavens for Boo Radley (did you know that Boo Radley was played by a very young Robert Duvall in that flick, I mean seriously, Robert-friekin’-Duval played a slightly dim-witted introvert, a stretch I’d say) and his willingness to rise above his so-called ‘station’ and beat the sweet living bejeezus out of the drunk bigot that successfully broke Jem’s arm and was intent on killing Scout, who was dressed like a ham at the time, long story, don’t ask, and actually I recall that Boo killed that dude, but the sheriff and Atticus decided to let things go, there had been enough destruction of innocence for one book and, oh that Harper Lee, herself an introvert of sorts, barely ever agreeing to interviews, but how can one blame her, I myself rarely want to be seen or heard by the mass of humanity and their sheep-like b-a-a-a-ing at whatever spicy little tidbit the media serves up, but…wait a minute, how the hell did I get here, this is nowhere near my point, let me quickly recap, um, Ovid, blah blah blah, endure with patience, etc., so if I ever have children (God help us all), I will sit them down and Ovid’s words will echo through the ages and I will make them read Kipling’s exceptional poem ‘If’ and memorize its lines about ‘forcing [their] heart and nerve and sinew to serve [their] turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in [them] except the will which says to them: “Hold on!”’, and in doing so endeavor to plant in their heart(s) the truth that as long as they never give up on themselves, the opinion of the world will matter not in the least.
Give it to me baby, and give it to me full-bodied or not at all.
It is virtually impossible to explain to someone in a single sentence why doctors cannot have mischievous sex with you and how this relates to The Hippocratic Oath, but if you must do such a thing, you might try explaining that it was Apollo who performed the first caesarean section upon his lover after he had her killed because a crow told him about her affair with another, and how Apollo’s son, Asclepius, went on to become a fine surgeon himself, a trade he picked up from a half-horse, half-man creature named Chiron, who not only taught him the art of surgery, but of the use of drugs, incantations, and love potions, and how this led Asclepius to later master the magical properties of Gorgon blood to revive the dead, which, you should probably add, made Zeus so mad after he learned that Asclepius was accepting money for being a doctor that he killed poor Asclepius with a thunderbolt to the head, proclaiming that all medicine thereafter could only make a person more comfortable while they either died or got better on their own; you might want to mention that the killing of Apollo’s son naturally made Apollo very mad, and that in retaliation, he killed the Cyclopes who made Zeus’ thunderbolts, but I’ve found that these extra facts usually only cloud the issue, and doesn’t do much to help people better understand their own family doctor at all, which is, I would certainly imagine, the sole purpose of any one-sentence explanation.
Somedays I want to invent something that’ll crawl back up the ‘net and strangle the next fucker who leaves me comment spam.
“Of course, then there’s the whole matter of the humans.”
Turns out it was the most boring dojo in the world.
It came as somewhat of a shock to learn that my therapy sessions with Dr. Sally (or was it Sarah, I could never quite remember), which I had assumed I had been attending three times a week for nearly a year, would no longer be required now that Rufus had discovered that the doctor was, in fact, nothing more than a product of his own imagination; my friend Schuster thought that while the whole business sounded a bit fishy, it certainly explained why the doctor had an eerie resemblance to Rufus’ mother.
The Penguin Olympics seemed like a great idea until it came time to run the hurdles.
If it’s Monday afternoon in California and Tuesday morning in Austrialia, how much further do we have to go to reach that all-important place where it’s late Friday afternoon?
Some links are too great to relegate to “just thoughts.”
My therapist thinks I worry too much about what people will think about Rufus and my friend Schuster, whom she claims are conjectures of my imagination and nothing more, but Rufus, on the other hand, thinks the doctor is kind of hot, and that she is playing a mind game on me to get him into bed; Schuster was visibly upset by the conversation and didn’t say a word, although he did admit to me later that as much as he wanted to believe Rufus was right, he was afraid the doctor presented a much stronger argument.
Though Step Four clearly stated that she’d have to make a list of all persons she had harmed, Muriel was disappointed to learn she would not be allowed to blog it.
“What good is this modern technology, anyway,” growled Ethel after her unsuccessful attempt to fax a piece of chocolate cake to her grandson.
MacLean’s intuition, tired of being marginalized by sycophants all its life, finally abandoned its host and moved into an empty brick office building that had two signs posted on the front door: FOR LEASE INQUIRE WITHIN, and HAZMAT DANGER.
“If they won’t answer my e-mails or return my phone calls,” snarled Gibson, “I might just drive over to their office and pound on their locked doors; that’ll show ‘em.”
While I was trying not to grind my teeth into powder as I read the pathetic excuses my students call resumes, I noticed the girl next to me was reading an “urban erotic” novel (I didn’t even know this was a genre until I read the back bookflap) entitled “Thong on Fire” with the blurb on the front proclaiming “If you get thrown in the snake pit, you better learn how to wriggle!”
Each morning, Wilford’s anal retentive time clock would make a meticulous mental note of the extra 4 seconds it took for Wilford to secure the coffee filters in their resealable package; the clock was proud of Wilford, just as Wilford was proud of the clock, and the two took great comfort in their relationship and were seldom far apart.
Newton’s wife badgered him to publish one of his lesser-known laws for the common good but Newton was still angry with the world-at-large over the whole apple thing so “If you’re close enough to pat it, it’s close enough to attack you,” never made it to textbooks.
Birds think they’re so cool with that flying thing, but they can’t even ski.
Time snuck up, leaving him with a drawer full of superhero t-shirts that wouldn’t fit.
“Because I’m lazy” is *not* an acceptable excuse.
As he studied the x-ray, Dr. Theopolis had the uncanny feeling that he’d seen Mr. Fitz’s bones somewhere before.
Some best friend, he didn’t even try to second-degree murder me.
What their dating profiles don’t say is what is most important, so I choose to believe only 50% of it and read the rest as interesting fiction.
After countless teeny tiny generations, fleas had finally achieved the invisibility mutation, which, for a long while, made many a pooch look like a damned hypochondriac.
When you got down to it, Maddy and her dog really had nothing in common, except a hatred of dog baths.
Mr. Ashford recycled the words with such care that even the most staunch of us, including that grumpy old Mr. Beckins, couldn’t help but smile.
He often recalled the long stretches of his life when he’d write the word ‘endure’ backwards in the foggy mirror every morning just to let the person staring back know that there was at least one person in the world pulling for him.
The study concluded that while married couples who had their feet cemented into a single block of concrete did tend to remain married slightly longer than couples who did not, the somewhat dramatic increase in the murder rate was such that funding for the so-called “Solid Marriage” program was eventually discontinued.
When suddenly, a shot rang out, and the two orphans stared as the murderer leapt out of the curtains and dashed across the stage, chased improbably by a rather short metal bird; “Must be controlled by strings,” said one orphan, “Or it’s a zombie,” said the other.
Three hours on a Saturday morning is hardly enough time to drink a lifetime’s worth of coffee, but by God, if anyone can do it, it’s me.
As inspired by: 'mouse's Duck
The duck on the woman’s plate had obviously been the victim of murder, but what was even more obvious was Rufus’ reckless desire for the woman; “Easy, my friend,” Schuster whispered to Rufus as the woman sucked noisely at one of the duck’s greasy leg bones, “lest our dinner companion decide to serve you as the next course.”
Henry didn’t believe in apocalyptic theme songs or zombies or radio-owning hermits, but Bob did, but with the body floating there in plain sight of the bird, both men suddenly realized it mattered very little what either of them believed; it was murder that was afoot, murder and them as they began the long walk back into town, the mocking caw of the bird announcing their every step.
It was a dark and stormy night when Rufus and Schuster found a body in the pond, and suddenly all that could be heard was the cawing of that damn bird.
I have nothing to do today, so I think I’ll write a novel; as for the plot, I’ll have to use all the Scrine sentences as my guide.
It had a thin, acrid flavor, like iced tea.
Full of luck dragons and apocalyptic theme songs, so perhaps not the best bedtime reading.
My mom got her Ravelry invite yesterday; even as we speak, she’s *on*, baby, and lining up her Flickr account so that she can put up actual pictures of her wip’s and stash!
The locker next to mine at the gym has a name tag that reads ‘Chico’ and I’m fighting with all the strength that heaven can spare to not add a name tag to my locker that reads ‘The Man’.
Peter’s war story was so good that both Ronald Reagan and Audie Murphy rose from the grave to take the lead role in the film, a situation that might have had studio executives squirming in their seats if Nancy hadn’t shown up, luring the President back to his grave with promises of, “Next time, honey; I promise.”
I’m trying to come up with something grand for #800, something involving an orphan, a gang of horse thieves, and a loaded gun, but alas all I can do is write about writing.
Rufus thinks that a full-time job wouldn’t be so bad as long as it was somewhere big, like a factory or a hotel, with plenty of places to sneak off to and hide so he could slack off, but my friend Schuster says this is a perfect example of wishful thinking, and that he already has that job and it’s called living in mom’s basement for thirty years.
I firmly believe that Fat Albert sang backup for The Miracles on “Love Machine”; no, on second thought, I firmly believe that The Miracles are Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids.
Schrödinger’s cat argued with Einstein about the nature of justice saying that in our legal system it’s not about the truth but about the plausibility of one story over another, but although Einstein appreciated the cat’s logic – possibly even agreeing - he still refused to lend him the bail money.
The polar bear delegate to the UN pounded his large paw on the podium vehemently roaring that if human penises started shrinking because of global warming there would be a huge outcry.
Rufus thinks that watching an Underdog cartoon is as good as the 47th time he had sex, but my friend Schuster disagrees, thinking that it’d be more like 48 or 49, and then maybe not Underdog, but something like The Hair Bear Bunch or something psychedelic like that from the 70’s.
The plumber is here
No water till 5 for me
I feel so unclean
Cornflakes in the night
By the stark light of the fridge
I will watch TV
Gene was haunted by the overlarge baby boy who kept appearing in his dreams, always in need of a diaper change.
Once you start writing
Thrills will become obsession
Your clever words haunt
The syllable scheme
of the haiku makes a poor
sugar substitute.
In a world filled with post apocalyptic dread one bunny will revolt and lead the oppressed people to freedom.
I recall wearing
a white dress, then came the pig
blood; vengeance was mine.
In his memoirs, Congressman Bowpers wrote almost poetically about stumping his way through zombie country, detailing how the crowds at night would gather to the light, raucous as hell, apolitical and hungry for change, or blood, it was often hard to tell.
The weatherman’s words for you’re completely fucked.
Bronwyn skipped the prom,
watched Night of the Living Dead,
scared herself silly.
No limo for Juan
borrowed Cadillac backseat
bench seat paradise
The hermit knew the addition of the radio to her cave might disrupt the status quo, but she just had to have her Fresh Air every day.
It turns out that the smell and dirty fingernails are not the worst things about being a fish monger.
Jimmy thought it rude
divorce papers being served
by that jerk in suede.
I swear I didn’t cheat at this, but it appears I really am a pair of boots.
the memory is
sufficient whether or not
you really got there.
Not a perfect date
Her disappearing like that
With that damn cowboy
Rosie’s new research project involved the purchase of two tonnes of tinsel, one cement mixer of sequins, half a skip of glitter and a few boxes of carefully packed Lustreware, just to be getting on with.
His date’s coy brassiere
Stubborn and immovable
A long cold shower
Rufus thinks that humming was probably invented by the pilgrims so they wouldn’t have to learn the words to all those old, boring hymns, but my friend Schuster thinks he’s confusing humming with lying, and singing with men remembering the date of their wedding anniversary.
Mary, single mom, two kids, who last year inherited her two nieces, age 5 and 7, when her brother and sister-in-law got sentenced to prison for drug offenses, was surprised when their older child, 16, who had been staying with other relatives showed up at her doorstep, but she never complained.
Muriel learned from earliest childhood to view house cleaning as a chore that is only satisfying if someone else is miserable; in retrospect, she wondered if that wasn’t the primary reason she agreed to marriage.
With a drawbar pull capacity of 71.6 tons, I complete all projects, regardless of workload, well ahead of deadline.
After six years of climbing the corporate ladder, Perkins had finally acquired enough business cards to finish his Eiffel Tower.
Bill’s excessive consumption of coffee combined with the vicissitudes of his life ensured that everything made him irritable including the moment when he won the Publisher’s Clearinghouse Sweepstakes.
As inspired by: Br. Ezra's Mirror Avoidence
Maddy avoided three-way mirrors on the principle that humans were not meant to know what their own behinds looked like, and further, that a woman should only receive information about her own behind from kindly friends.
I am self-motivated with a thrust/weight rating of 0.205 and work well with others.
Jan van de Boer surveying the patrons milling about the bar suddenly understood what happened to America and, in a rare moment of pique, opined to no one in particular that the little black dress was the only good thing to come out of the 20th century.
His penchant for sitting naked framed in the front window did not win him any friends in the neighborhood; it was the postwoman who finally took action.
If it isn’t compulsive it isn’t really gambling!
You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, even if a stitch in time does save nine, and regardless of whether you went to bed early in order to get up healthy, wealthy, and oh my God, I can’t feel my legs.
Bob believed he could handle any situation no matter how stressful as long as he had the option of changing into clean underwear later.
“I call it the morally repugnant clause,” God’s attorney said during the pre-creation meeting, “and I would strongly advice you to leave it in the contract, at least for Day 6 or there’ll be hell to pay trying to explain things later; believe me, if this thing goes to trial at some point, the burden of reasonable hope will rest on our shoulders, and frankly, I don’t think either one of us have the bank for that kind of trial.”
Henry didn’t know exactly when it happened but recently he noticed that his life began to read like liner notes from an old Paul Revere and The Raiders album, a fact that he attributed as the cause of the serious creaking and popping of his knees whenever he walked toward the vintage record store.
Rednecks in my town buy Chow-Chows if they want to seem more cerebral than Pitbull owners.
Now that my son has inherited his great-grandfather’s false teeth, I bet he doesn’t have a clue what to do with them.
Maddy’s husband appeared at her office with a box of spinach tortillini and the keys to her freshly-washed car - a gesture of reconcilliation that meant ten times more to her than flowers.
Even Willy, the blind juggler, was uncomfortable around Peter’s bone-white shins.
Ahab’s relentless pursuit of evil turned the former Rotarian and restaurateur into a cruel master who limped across the warped deck of his ship cursing, “Damn you knotty pine” every time his peg leg fell off.
The temperature the other morning was 34 degrees fahrenheit, it was raining, and I was annoyed beyond reason by the fact that the youth of America were still walking around in flip-flops, practically barefoot, thumbing their nose at conventional wisdom involving the usefulness of shoes and warm dry feet.
Every afternoon young smarmy men gather outside my window and congregate around some muscle car or another drinking beer and listening to what I can only describe as Mexican Polka (it’s as if Lawrence Welk grabbed a poorly tuned accordion and went Salsa), the squelching sounds of some unknown instrument barely audible over the deep rumblings of bass makes it clear why suicide bombings have risen in recent years.
Now this organ is one of the most wonderful examples we have of how carefully God planned everything for a particular purpose.
As inspired by: You can call me, 'Sir''s the gift of meat
The number one nutritional sports meat stick is not just for breakfast anymore.
At night I often dream that I’m Clark Gable